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gilbirda · 1 year

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The Vampire Bat

For DPxDC Week!

Day 1: Lazarus Pit.

[Read on AO3]

---

Jazz met him for the first time when she was doing that internship years ago. It had been a once-in-a-lifetime chance and she bet everything she had on making a good impression on the Arkham Asylum director.

(For whatever good it did, because even if she had made an impression she had to leave Gotham before the end of her internship. Danny needed her.)

She found him hurt and alone, with death all over him, still smelling like graveyard dirt.

He couldn’t be much younger than her, even if he was tall and very fit under the burial black suit.

Jazz followed him around, half wondering how a revenant was walking the streets of Gotham and half keeping an eye so he wouldn’t find a quick second death. She wanted to see as well if the guy, like all revenants, instinctively walked home or a familiar place - if he had loved ones that gave a light on the mystery, she wanted to talk to them.

Soon he was picked up and brought to a hospital, where he would be properly taken care of.

She hoped she wouldn't meet him again, but if she did, she wanted to solve this mystery.

***

Jazz met him again by chance, some years later.

She was on a forced vacation after Danny complained she was too bossy and he was a grown man now and ‘I don’t need you breathing down my neck all the time!’ and ugh-

So. Yeah. She was subtly sent a link to the Arkham Asylum job portal and details about her new flashy apartment in the city. Completely furnished.

Subtlety was not Danny’s (or his friends’) specialty.

So here she was trying to figure out if she wanted to go back to her dream or not, and if she really could just walk back in and ask for a second chance, when she felt him.

Her senses had gotten sharper with time - her liminality ramping up in the time it took Team Phantom to settle Danny as the ruler of the Infinite Realms. Somewhere along the way they accepted the fact that neither of them was completely human anymore, with Jazz herself embracing it rather easily given the circumstances.

Her only complaint? Having to consume ectoplasm regularly to compensate for her inability to make the stuff herself.

That’s why when she sensed the revenant from years ago, she could pinpoint his location easier than she did when she was younger.

She sniffed him out, finding that his smell had changed with time - the baseline graveyard dirt stink was still there, just buried under the most potent ectoplasmic fragrance she ever detected in the Living world.

He was not a ghost. He still had the warm middletones of a Living creature. But he was familiar enough to make her mouth water.

Jazz watched him, carefully following him around as he walked around the isles in the Classical section of Gotham’s Public Library. Everything he touched, everything he breathed at, smelled so deliciously that she got sidetracked imagining how he would taste.

She needed to know.

So bad.

Maybe this vacation thing wasn’t that awful of an idea after all.

***

She found him again, but in the craziest way possible. Also, maybe she had found out one of the city’s biggest secrets by accident.

Her mystery guy was a vigilante.

Not that it changed anything for her, mind you; it even made things more exciting. If he was used to the weird stuff going on in Gotham then she could approach him more directly and not lose time in silly games.

Once again she followed him around like a, well, like a ghost, having fun with the chase around the rooftops without him noticing. Or maybe he did? Sometimes she caught him looking around at the shadows, stopping to check them before doing his next jump.

It wasn’t until a few nights later, when she had to stop her chase to talk to some very lost ghosts that didn’t know they were dead, that her little game came to an end.

The click of the gun, once upon a time, would have made her heart stop for a moment. Now she knew it wouldn’t actually kill her, just push her officially to the other side of her Life/Dead status.

She turned, her hands lifted in the air.

“Who are you and why are you following me.” He growled. His aura did a flare that was supposed to scare her, but she had seen worse. One wasn’t the Princess of the Dead without fistfighting a few gods here and there.

She smiled softly, lowering her hands. “You noticed me?”

“I’m the one asking questions.” Red Hood didn’t lower the gun. “You have to answer.”

“Sorry, I’m just excited,” Jazz's chuckle was lost in the cold Gotham breeze. “I thought I would never see you again and then I did and there’s something about you-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He growled.

“Oh, right, you don’t know me. It was… four years ago? I think. Yeah, four years. You were wandering around and revenants are vulnerable, so I watched you-”

“What?” He really liked to interrupt people, huh.

“Revenant? A type of undead. Not actually a zombie,” she rolled her eyes, offended, “those are a different thing.”

“You knew me? Four years ago?”

“Yes? Not, like, know, know you. I was in the neighborhood and sensed death on you and I needed to check.” She sniffed again, walking a bit closer. The gun was still pointed in her direction, but he didn’t move. “Something’s changed, though. You smell like death but also less like death, and more like ectoplasm. Were you revived?”

He tensed. So yes, someone revived him. His loved ones? She should know if there was a magician powerful enough, and with access to this much ectoplasm, in the city.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“You mean you don’t sense me?”

His silence was enough.

“Oh well, how about now?”

She let her tight control of her aura go for a moment. It wasn’t a good idea to broadcast her status and power all the time, especially if she wanted to keep a low profile. Also, the Spirit of Gotham had let her into her city, but Jazz didn’t want to push it with a power play - she may be the Princess, but Gotham was older and her claim was stronger.

“Holy shit.” Red Hood flinched, putting away his gun. Then, he took the helmet off to look at her with his own eyes. “You feel just like the Lazarus Pit.”

“The what?”

Both looked at each other in silence for a moment.

“You really don’t know?” He insisted, frowning. “The League of Shadows?” She shook her head. “Ra’s al Ghul?” She shook her head again. “Immortal guy that has been using the Lazarus Pit to artificially extend his lifespan?”

Okay that rang a bell. “And has a creepy cult of assassins and lives in a mountain?”

He chuckled at her wording. “That guy.”

“I know of him. We’ve been looking into his case for a while.”

“We?” He arched an eyebrow. “Are you the death police?”

“I’m the Princess of the Ghosts, actually.”

He stopped and looked at her as if he were considering she was joking or trying to mock him. After a few seconds of pondering, he shrugged and rolled with it.

“And what does the Princess want with me? Take me back to the Afterlife?” By his little smile, he wasn’t taking this seriously. Did he think she was not being honest? What was the point of lying?

“If I wanted to take your soul I would already have done so,” she took a step closer. If she wanted, she could jump on him and take that sweet smelling ectoplasm, but she behaved. No need to act like a barbarian. “I just thought you smelled nice.”

He didn’t expect that. His cheeks turned a bit red. “That’s the worst pickup line ever. Very creepy.”

“Who said anything about pickup lines?” She slowly reached and brushed a bit of his hair away from his neck, the movement sending that sweet smell in her direction. “I’ve never encountered this scent and I’m curious.”

There was recognition in his eyes. He knew there was something different about him.

“Let’s say there’s an explanation for that. What would you do?”

What wouldn’t she do?

“If it’s harmful for you, I’d find a way to help and then kindly ask you if you are interested in a bit of fun." By the way his eyebrows rose, he got what she meant. "If not, then I want to kindly ask you if you are interested in a bit of fun and if you could let me take a sip."

"Are you- Are you like a vampire?"

She hummed, amused by the comparison. This wasn't the first time someone made a comment. Maybe she was a vampire after all, just not hungry for blood but for ectoplasm.

"Not for human blood.” If her smile hinted at her pointy teeth, it wasn’t on purpose. “So that’s a no?”

His smile was devious when he answered: “I never said I was against it.”

---

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mochinek0 · 1 year

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Daminette December 2022: 25-Demon/Angel

Damian sighed as he walked into the community center. He had been assigned community service for punching someone at school. The school had thought it was best for the youngest Wayne to see the consequences of his actions and what his actions could lead to. They volunteered him to work in a reformitory.

Damian looked around the room of people. It reminded him of Arkham, just less yelling and screaming. One person caught his eye; a girl staring out the window. She sat perfectly still on the windowsill.

'Who is she? Why is she alone?'

Damian quickly grabbed the clipboard out of the attendant's hand.

"Hey!" they cried.

He flipped through the pages quickly and found her: Marinette Dupain-Cheng. He shoved the clipboard back and started walking towards her. They grabbed his arm.

"I wouldn't go near her." they whispered, "We go told very bad things about her. She's very violent."

'These people are idiots.'

Damian walked up to the sill.

"Hello." he spoke.

Marinette didn't speak or turn at the sound of his voice.

"Not one for words?" Damian questioned.

"Words are filled with lies." she stated.

'Progress.'

"I am told you are violent." he continued.

She sighed and continued looking out the window.

"I do not believe them." he concluded.

Marinette turned and looked at him, shocked. Damian noticed tears build up befre she quickly shut down her emotions.

"So what?" Mari questioned.

"I am sentenced for one month to work here for two hours, three times a week." Damian informed her.

"Lucky you." she declared.

"I would rather spend time with you than with idiots." he stated, "I can tell you are not like the others."

As he turned to leave, he said his name was Damian and left.

It took until the very last day for him to get her to open up once more.

"I was never violent." Marinette whispered, still looking out the window, "Not until the end."

"The end?" Damian asked.

"I snapped." she sniffled, "My parents sent me here because the couldn't 'control' me anymore. That's a lie."

"Why don't you tell me when everything went wrong." He spoke.

She shrugged, "Why not? I get out of here in a week. I'll be eighteen by then and I'm suppose to get my stuff from them. I'm never going home. I grew up in Paris, France and my parents were bakers. Everything started with a new transfer student; she was a liar. I could see through her façade, but no one else could. She lied to people like we breathed oxygen."

"I confronted her. She said she was only 'telling people what they wanted to hear'." Mari sighed, "Nice to know people wanted to think so badly of you, huh. Anyways, she faked disabilities, told lies about going places, made up connections to celebrities. I tried to tell my friends, my classmates, but they wouldn't listen. One of them knew she was a liar and said it was better to let her lie; that everyone would find out eventually. Later, she started to spread rumors about me, saying that I was bullying her, sending her threatening texts, calling her at all hours so she couldn't sleep. It was all over a boy she wanted me to stay away from who was my friend. There even came a point where I got expelled because of her."

"And you proved your innocence." he smirked.

"If only." Marinette answered, "I never got a chance to defend myself. There had been a tip to the teacher that the answer sheet for a test was in my bag. My idiot teacher had already graded the tests with it, but I somehow needed it. When I accused her, we were sent to the office, together. She walked down a whole flight of stairs and then started screaming that I pushed her."

"Did they not check the footage?" Damian growled.

"Nope. The principal listened to people with money and powerful parents more. I was just a baker's daughter. Why would the daughter of an Italian diplomat lie?" Mari waved off, "She wasn't sent to the nurse or a hospital. She then accused me of stealing a necklace that was an heirloom. It was really a Gabriel necklace that had come out five months prior, but the 'evidence' was there. So, I was expelled."

"How were you reinstated?" he questioned.

Marinette laughed, "The bitch claimed to have a lying disease that made her fabricate evidence under stress."

Damian gripped his jeans as tight as he could to stop himself from running off.

"Not sure when it started, but eveyone started telling my parents how 'awful' I was to her." Marinette stated, turning back to the window.

"And they believed them?" he asked.

Marinette nodded, "Soon, it wasn't just her bullying me, threatening me. She got the whole class to do it. They started tripping me, destroying my homework, my designs, spilled coffee on me and played it off on my own clumsiness. One day, she said I chased her until she twisted her ankle."

"What happened?" Damian pushed.

"That was the day I snapped." Mari replied, "I don't remember what happened. I was sitting in the back of the class and the next thing I know, I was being pulled off of her. She had a broken , fractured jaw, and was bleeding a lot. I'm told I just kept callign her a liar over and over, but I don't know. Then, I was sent here. I've been here for....two years, I think?"

'I was right. This isn't a violent girl. This girl is an angel and she plummeted.'

"May I hug you?" Damian asked, suddenly.

Marinette turned quickly. He could see her face had turned bright red and she was shocked by his gesture. Damian leaned in and held her close.

"I do not believe you are bad." he whispered, "I think you are a better person than most."

Marinette shakily brought her hands around him and began to sob.

"What was that girl's name?" Damian probed.

Mari sniffled and pulled away. She wiped her tears, like nothing had ever happened, and turned bac to look out the window.

"Layla Rossi. She went by Lila." she answered, "I don't know if it's still with my things, but I kept a journal about everything. You can read it if you want. I decided to keep it as a reminder to never let it happen again; that I never needed friends, again."

Damian stood up and placed a hand on her head. He smirked as he walked away and explained he had permission to look though her belongings. He found the journal and smiled. Marinette had no idea she had just made a deal with a demon.

Damian sat in front of the batcomputer. It had been easy to find article in Paris about the incident. Marinette's name hadn't been mentioned, but Lila's was everywhere. It had made headlines that Gabriel Agreste's muse had been beaten up and bullied by another girl and had to take time off from modeling. Lila had painted herself as the ultimate victim saying she was being bullied for trying to protect Adrien Agreste from the girl. Other people backed up her statement by saying she had been obsessed with the male model.

Damian looked at Adrien Agreste's picture on file and glared.

'Blonde hair. Green eyes. Clone of his mother. Recently started school at age thirteen. What a joke. He's not even that good looking.'

It wasn't even a challenge to find where everything took place. Neither of their social medias were private. There were pictures of the school on both accounts and they had the same circle of friends. Damian hacked into the school and began to go through the dates in Marinette's journal. It was all there: the bullying, the tripping, being shoved and threatened. She had been right; no one had even looked. He quickly started downloading all the evidence.

"What are you doing, Damian?" Bruce spoke, suddenly.

Damian handed over Marinette's journal. Bruce looked from the pink book to the screens. It was easy to see he wasn't pleased.

"This girl is in the program I was sent to." Damian declared, "I want her here. I want her to work for us. We would have to help her get her GED, but it shouldn't be too difficult."

"You want her in the manor?" Bruce inquired.

"And at Wayne Enterprise." his son answered, flipping to the back of the book, "She's a designer. Her name was mentioned by several celebrities and had backing before all of this. I assume the person let their emotions get the better of them and was jealous. Everything about the bully revolved around her and making her appear better then Marinette. She claimed to know celebrities that the designer knows. The designer was friends prior with the Agreste child and had won a contest. What better way then to take the designer the Agreste turned away than to take her for ourselves?"

"We can have her make suits to the next gala and see how the do as a trial." Bruce declared.

"She gets out next week." Damian replied, "We can get her, then.

"Why wait?" his father asked.

"She'll be eighteen by then." Damian smirked, "Her parents won't be able to do a thing."

Bruce smiled at his son's remark.

Damian arrived with Bruce, next to him. Marinete looked at them confused.

"We are taking you home with us." Damian declared.

Marinette looked between the both of them in shock, "What?"

"We have already made a room for you in our home." Bruce spoke.

"Why?" Mari asked.

"We are going to help you graduate so you can work on your own." Damian answered, "You wanted to be an individual who did not need to rely on anyone, if I remember correctly. Get your things."

Marinette stared in shock at the size of Wayne Manor. Damian helped her place everything in her new room, while Bruce gathered up the rest of the boys for dinner. Mari set her clothes on the bed and turned to Damian.

"Why?" she questioned, "I still don't understand."

"Someone clipped your wings, Angel." Damian answered, "No one should have made you fall to my level."

"What level is that?" Marinette asked.

"Hell." He smirked.

"You, Demon Spawn!" Jason interrupted, "Quit flirting. Alfred says dinner is in five minutes. "

Marinette blushed at the implications. Sure, Damian had brought her into his home, but she doubt that was the reason why. At dinner, Mari found out that Damian was Bruce's only son; everyone else had been adopted. They all had hard lives growing up and Bruce had taken them in without a second thought. The older boys had teased Damian for following in his Father's footsteps in taking in blue eyed people in need. All of them made her feel welcome. They told her they would take her around the city to elp her get use to the area. Alfred was happy to have another person to cook with. That itself had earned some of the boys to look away and find the idea of paint appealing.

"Am I adopted now?" Marinette questioned.

"No." Dick answered, "You're eighteen so you just live here."

Marinette smiled, "Thank you."

Damian walked Marinette back to her room.

"Don't worry, you will get use to the manor, eventually." Damian stated, "We just don't want you getting lost. I have a surprise for you tomorrow morning."

Marinette looked at him confused, but nodded. She wasn't sure what else Damian could give her. He had given her a roof over her head, a place to eat, and a way to get her life back together. She laid down on the softest bad she had felt and passed out.

Damian glared at the screen as he sent the emails and videos to the correct people in mind. He sent everything to the school board anonymously and also to the news outlet in Paris.

"You good?" Jason questioned, "You sort of have an Al Ghul face going on."

"Just.....getting some revenge." he answered.

"You know Bruce-" Tim began.

"Approved." Damian declared.

The three boys looked at each other and then back at their youngest sibling.

"How?" Dick asked.

Damian sighed and brought up the footage of Marinette being beaten and then someone claiming she had started the fight. They weren't happy with what they were seeing. Marinette was docile and now they could see why. It was going to be challenge to get her to speak up.

"How can we help?" Jason demanded.

Lila woke up to the sound of her phone vibrating uncontrollably on her night stand. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. She picked up her phone to see what was going on.

'Did Gabriel come out with the new catalog?'

Lila clicked on social media and was shocked to see that she was being called a liar.

'What is going on?'

She clicked on a link and saw footage of her shoving Marinette down on the floor and then kicking her, while she laughed. At the sound of footsteps, she saw herself rip her own shirt and slap her face. When the adult came into view, Lila ran and hugged her, thanking her for coming to her rescue. She lied and wailed how Marinette started to beat her and she had to defend herself against the bully. She was so scared.

'No! Who posted this? This is going to ruin my reputation.'

There was many videos going around of teacher's ignoring Marinette asking for help. They were telling her to be the bigger person. They were telling her to open her heart and be more forgiving. They told her how it was better to ignore the hurtful words the others were saying about her. There were also videos of Lila walking down the stairs and claiming Marinette pushed her. There was her framing Marinette for stealing test answers and placing them in her backpack. There was evidence of her buying the Gabriel necklace and putting it in Marinette's locker, crying how she stole her family heirloom. Almost every lie she had ever told was being exposed by the news station: traveling out of Paris, her connections with celebrities, and her disabilities. The celebrities themselves were callign the news station and outraged how they didn't know such a horrible girl. Jagged Stone, himself, claimed how Marinette Dupain-Cheng was his personal designer.

"Marinette is one of the sweetest people I know." Jagged Stone declared, "She has always been ready to help me. Whether it's for a CD cover or a rockin' outfit for my shows! Hey, whoever sent this out. Reach out to me so I can talk to my designer and hire her again."

The news caster then informed Jagged Stone and Paris that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was sent to a reformitory out of Europe. As we saw, many people took to bullying her and those bullies turned her own parents against her. They thought they were doing the right thing. Why you ask? We might remember her better as the girl who beat up Gabriel Agreste's muse. They brought up their past headlines of Lila Rossi with a broken nose and being taken into an ambulance. His so-called muse told reporters that she feared for her life, in that moment. The model declared how she was only protecting her classmate and co-worker, Adrien Agreste, from a stalker. Many people agreed with her statement, but we can now see those people were assisting her in bullying this young girl. They lied to hide the fact on who was the true victim.

Her social media was flooded with comments:

"What a fake story."

"I wonder how popular she got from playing the victim."

"I hope she enjoys her new fame."

"LOL"

"Liar"

"Bully"

"Faker"

The news caster smiled, "The only thing the anonymous tipster stated was that they were doing this for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. They learned about everything and it wasn't hard to find. Marinette had a whole book full of detailed notes, every time she got bullied and by whom. They claimed it wasn't hard to find the evidence, only that no one ever looked. People are dumb. No one looked up the obvious lies and the pricipal obviously lined his pockets with richer families in mind. Also, Happy belated birthday, Marinette!"

The backlash from the reveal was gigantic. The school board was pissed about what had happened under supervision and had been brushed off. The principals and teachers were terminated immediately. Their licenses were suspended indefinitely; they would never work with children again.

Layla Rossi was quickly fired from Gabriel. All of her social medias were blocked and so was her phone number. Her mother had been completely blindsided by the news. She had stomped into her room and taken away her phone, until the truth was revealed. It was decided by the school board to expell Lila two months before graduation. When the verdict was given to her mother, she decided it was best to also take her to a reformitory until her daughter turned eighteen, the following year.

Everyone that had initially been apart of Bustier's class was crying. They had been shocked and horrified to learn they had chosen the wrong side. Marinette had told them Lila was lying to them; she had only tried to get them to see the truth. Adrien was hugging a pillow as he watched the news from his couch. He watched over and over as Mari was bullied by their friends and Lila. She was pushed and kicked while she was down. She sat there and did nothing, just like he told her to.

'She never told me this was going on!'

'Why would she ever come to you? This is all your fault! You helped turn everyone against her.'

Adrien broke and sobbed into the pillow.

The big question on everyone's mind was : Where is Marinette now? Her parents had reached out to the reformitory, to get her back, but she was no longer there. Once she was eighteen, she was gone.

It was years until people in Paris learned what happened to Marinette. Her name was trending again, everywhere. Marinette Dupain-Cheng had married Damian Wayne. They could all see she was happy. Several people had reached out to talk with her, but they all failed. No one knew how to contact her other than to call Wayne Enterprise. When they reached the receptionist, they always asked who was calling. . When they gave their own name, they were told their name had been blacklisted by the family and not to pass the call to Marinette. They tried using fake names after some time, but Marinette didn't know who they were so their calls were rejected.

"We know her!" they complained.

"And if she cared, she would call you!" the receptionist retorted and hung up.

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#daminette december 2022 #daminette december #damian wayne #marinette dupain cheng #community service #violence #reformitory #marinette depressed #marinette deserves better #bruce wayne #wayne family #lila rossi #lila exposed #lila salt #class salt #jagged stone #marinette wayne #mochinek0

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like-rain-or-confetti · 2 years

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Not A Place for Children (Scarecrow x child!reader)

Arkham Asylum was no place for children. Everyone knew that. It was barely hospitable for adults nevermind children. Had the city not been so corrupt and actually had decent standards for the Asylum, maybe it could achieve decent living standards and an acceptable quality of life. The Asylum was dark and dreary illuminated by harsh white lights that acted more like spotlights for interrogations along the corridors. Some lights blinked and flickered, revealing the aged walls.

You had been led into a room with a coffee table and seats, paper and crayons to keep you occupied. Your father Jonathan had just been admitted to Arkham and that left a custody issue seeing he was your only parent and only family. Naturally, you'd have to be put in the system. A social worker from child protective services was sent for you. She looked more extravagant than anyone in the whole Asylum. A grey, pencil skirt and jacket to match. Pearl necklace around her neck. Her blonde hair scraped back into a tight bun, black rectangular glasses and red lips to finish her look. She expected to see a sorry sight of a child. However the door opened to reveal a well kept child. Not even a hair out of place. At least Scarecrow actually bothered to keep you well dressed and fed. There wasn't even dark circles or any inclination of disturbed sleep.The social worker had seen many children, ragged and unkempt, exhausted and malnourished. You, were exactly the opposite. At the most, you were rather shy. A common trait amongst children and no doubt you were already uneasy given the circumstances.

The woman got down on her knees and smiled at you. "My name is Diane. My job is to help kids like you. Do you know where you are?" You shook your head, eyes staring into the crayon scribblings that resembled a child's drawings. "So this is a hospital. Your dad is here to get better. Whilst he's getting better, I'll be taking you to stay in a big house, with other kids like you. However whilst dad is getting better, you won't be able to see him, do you understand?"

Jonathan's eyes fell on his tear stained child's face immediately. You broke free of the social workers grip and ran for him. He bent down slightly as you hugged his legs tightly, head in his stomach. "There, there...don't cry. Are you scared?" Jonathan asked as he rubbed your back as best he could against the cuffs on his wrists. You nodded. "Don't be...this lady will make sure your safe.I wouldn't let you go if I didn't think it wasn't for the best. Everything is alright, you'll see." Throughout the visit, Diane resisted the urge to shudder. Yes, Jonathan's words were borderline comforting. However, they would have meant more if there was real feeling behind them. Firstly, his tone was off- almost condescending and mocking sometimes. Secondly, Nothing he said evoked a reaction. His face and eyes lacked any kind of emotion. In her eyes, the only reason you were comforted was because you couldn't see his face. Jonathan told you not to be afraid one last time before Diane stepped in. Time was up. Jonathan kissed the top of your head. Diane couldn't help but feel relief when it was time to get you out of the Asylum and away from your father. You were quiet and curled into yourself. Diane could hardly blame you. This place was terrifying. A few minutes had passed and you were still quiet as you followed behind her, only a step behind her. She had looked away only for a moment as the guards said something to her as they lead the way to the exit.

Suddenly, you were tugged into the elevator, Jonathan pulled you behind him and closed the grate. The commotion made Diane turn and in horror, she noticed you were no longer with her. Just barely catching eyes with a smirking Jonathan Crane before the door shut. She gasped and that gained the attention of the GCPD and arkham staff.

Jonathan pressed a button smiled down at you. The elevator began to move. Suddenly he pressed an alarm button and the elevator halted to a stop, mid floors. A ringing sound blared out making you crinkle your nose. Jonathan crouched down to your level and smiled. "You're going to be okay." He reassured you quietly with a smile. "Don't let them take me away, daddy." You pleaded quietly. "I want you to go along with this. Be on your best behaviour and I'll let you in on a little secret. Between you and me, hm?" You nodded and held out your pinky. He looped his pinky with yours before leaning forward and whispering in your ear. "I'll come and get you. No matter where you are. I'll always find you." "Are you really sick, daddy?" You asked quietly. He shook his head. "Now give me a big hug." He said. You did without hesitation and felt him kiss the side of your head. "Remember to behave okay? Don't you worry about a thing. We'll see each other again. I promise." He eyed the doors before pulling back. "Now, when the doors open, I need you to go with that woman and no matter what you hear or see, don't look at me. Keep looking at her and go with her." You nodded. "And I'll see you very soon." He smiled and kissed your forehead.

Eight months had been and gone with your foster family. You still remembered your promise but had lost hope your father would ever come back. The King's- Martha and Everett, were a couple in their late thirties. Mr King was the youngest of four children, all had children but himself. An expectation that was passed from their parents. Now that retirement excitement had settles and dare anyone say bore the parents, they pressured their children to have grandchildren and continue the bloodline. Even better, be filled with pride as they were surrounded by grandchildren every second Sunday. Martha and Everett married young -thanks to pressure from Everett's parents' and his parents had expected children a few years later tops. Ten years having passed without children, it raised a lot of eyebrows among the family. However no one dared really ask why the King's didn't have children. If they had, perhaps they'd be more sympathetic. Regardless, the King's decided that fertility treatments weren't for them and that they would prefer adopting. However, never the couple to dive into anything head first, they took to fostering. Their preference was a baby, but seemingly those were common preferences. After all the older children were, the more difficult they were. At least that's what Everett's mother had said time and time again. That was until they received a call. A child, five, soon to be six, had just been put into the system. Chances of custody back to their father was next to none. Although reluctant when they recognised the last name, the King's agreed to meet the child. That led to a few more visits and before the King's knew it, they were eager to bring the child home.

The child was quiet but well behaved and with a bit of structure and time, Everett was the first to really get the child out of their shell. The King's had since discussed adoption but were waiting for the full year mark. With every other intent and purpose, they considered the child their own and it was heartwarming for them to have a birthday party filled with cousins and friends. (Y/N) seemed to be the missing piece to the King family.

Although this wasn't an appealing plan to Jonathan. Gotham had taken a lot from him. The world had taken even more but he'd be damned if he let the system give away his child. Barely a month after seeing you, the court decided his only child, the only family he had left, would be put into foster care. Over his dead body would he let that happen.

He had cornered Mr King before the man could even get to his door. Strangling him with wire. Jonathan swiftly put him on the storage room, more than aware that the cameras would have caught everything. He didn't care about that. He took Mr King's key and when he opened the door, he was greeted by the call of Mrs King. Jonathan didn't reply but instead took in his surroundings. He eyed the framed photographs placed around the living room. You were in every one. Clearly proud parents who wanted to capture every special and sentimental moment they had with you. He appreciated that. Really, he did. However you were not their child. You were his and he should be the one there for every birthday and special occasion. He had every intention of making it up to you that he had missed your birthday. He looked to his right, the kitchen where Mrs King was. To his left, the living room. Behind him was the stairs.

The moment he saw the knife rack was in reach, he briskly walked up behind her. She moved to turn hearing his approach but didn't have enough time as her head was yanked back by her hair. Martha cried out and Jonathan shushed her. "Thank you for taking care of my baby for me." He said quietly into her ear before shoving the knife into her neck. She gurgled, eyes wide as the blood began to run down the wound. Jonathan released her almost immediately before any blood got on him. He stepped over her and moved back towards the living room where he heard a tiny gasp. He looked just in time to see you at the top of the stairs before you ran away. He waited until he was certain Martha was dead and only then did he slowly climb the stairs, listening carefully for you. He followed in the direction he saw you take off in.

There was only one room down the hall other than the bathroom. A room that looked fitting for a child. He heard a noise and eyed the closet door. He walked towards the door. Jonathan knelt down before the closed closet door. "(Y/N)? It's daddy." He heard your muffled sobs. "(Y/N), open the door." He said as he put a hand flat on the wooden door, the other on the handle. He felt you let go from the other side and opened the door. "Look at you..." He smiled slightly. "...you've gotten taller." You fidgeted with your fingers, shrinking under his gaze. "I've missed you, dear. It's time to go home now." After a moment of looking at him uncertainly you seemed to come to a decision. You lunged forward, hugging him tightly. He returned the hug, shushing you quietly. "It's okay. I'm here now. Thank you for being so good for me." It would have been more difficult to find you if you had been passed around time and time again. Thankfully, you know had only been moved once from social services to the King's. "Let's go home, hm?" Jonathan suggested quietly and felt your nod against his shoulder. His grip tightened as he rose to a stand, you in his arms. Jonathan caught sight of a nearby cardigan, he grabbed it and draped it over your shoulders. He walked casually, not in a hurry to flee the scene. He closed the front door and turned his gaze to the security camera. He smiled, knowing the GCPD would be looking at the very moment. He tapped your back with a finger. "See the camera up there?" He asked softly and you lifted your head and nodded. "Let's wave bye-bye." You didn't know who you were waving to exactly but waved none the less along with your father. After a brief wave and a smirk, he walked away with you in his arms, down the hall and into the elevator.

CCTV of that street would reveal Jonathan walking hand in hand with a child and released to the public as your last known appearance along with a still frame of you and Jonathan looking up at the security camera. The best image of your face, they could have of that night. Given the incident was in the middle of the night, a clear picture of you was also released. Yet those pictures and footage kept it's description. You hadn't been seen since and even as Jonathan was arrested time and time again for his usual antics, he never told where you were. He didn't even tell if you were still alive. You were gone without a trace. The usual tactics of trying to guilt trip someone into telling, would never work on a sociopath. It was certainly one of the best kept secrets made.

Later that night, Jonathan had called two people, asking them to meet him on a desolate road, outside of the city. Even though they had their guard up, hardly forgetting who they were dealing with. They both showed up. Alone. Just as asked. Harley and Harvey looked at each other. Questioningly. "Were you called by Crane?" Harvey asked coldly. Harley looked Two-Face up and down, warily but nodded as she approached him. "Yeah." "I wonder the secrecy." Harvey muttered. "I was told I can't tell Mister J either. Must be big." Both caught sight of headlights. "That him?" He asked. "Must be, who else is nuts enough to be out here at two in the morning?" Harley narrowed her gaze on the lights scrutinisingly. The black car pulled up on the side of the road. The cars front door opened to reveal Jonathan who briskly locked the car behind him. "Thank you for coming." "What's this about Crane?" Harv' asked gruffly. Having only asked Two-Face and Harley only raised more questions. Just what would they have in common and better yet appealing to Jonathan? "Did you find (Y/N)?" Harley asked. Jonathan nodded behind him and she took a few steps to the side to see you in the back seat, looking at the three. She wiggled her fingers with a gleeful smile and you smiled back slightly. "I've had to be very selective on who can see them, who I can trust. When the Batman comes looking and the GCPD and they will come looking. I find I can only trust the two of you not to buckle under the pressure." Jonathan explained. "No one can find them. After tonight, they completely disappear." Batman was known to beat the answers out of people and it seemed Jonathan was certain that if anyone could keep their mouth shut no matter what- it was those two. "What do you need, huh?" Harley tilted her head. "Your silence." Jonathan ground out. "The others can know I got (Y/N) tonight but they can never know where they are after that. No one can know." "So why tell us?" Harv' gruffed out. "Because I need to trust them with someone when I can't be there. When I'm taken by the police or the Bat. Someone needs to be able to care for them until I come back." "You want us to take them if your ever arrested?" Harley asked and Jonathan nodded. Harvey sighed. "I know you'll do the right thing by my child, Harvey." Jonathan's eyes shifted to Harley. "I also know children are your soft spot Harley. If I can trust them to any one, it's you two." Harley nodded. "Okay." She said lightly, nervous but staying strong. She's sacrifice anything for Jonathan's child. Their safety above everything. Both looked to Two-Face who sighed again before nodding. "Alright. You got it." Children were innocent in his eyes. He lost faith in the justice system long ago so he couldn't trust Gotham with you. It was a simple decision. "Can we see them?" Harley asked lightly. Jonathan thought about it for a moment. "I suppose there is no harm in that." He agreed before unlocking the car doors. Harley squealed slightly in excitement as she jogged over to the back of the car and eagerly opened it. "Hi sweetie! I missed you!" She wasted no time unbuckling your belt and lifted you. "Oh you've gotten big! Thought we agreed you'd stay my little munchkin forever huh?" You giggled in response as she walked back, with you in her arms, towards the two men. "Struggling there, Harley?" Harvey tried not to laugh. "When did they get so big!? I'm not ready for them to be too old to carry around!" She feigned a sob and you giggled. She put you down and you moved to Two-Face, hugging his waist tightly. "Hey, kid." Harv' smiled slightly. He rubbed your back. "So the others can know you got them?" Harley turned to Jonathan and he nodded. "They just can't know where I'm taking them." "Which is?" Harvey looked up from you. "You'll know if i get taken into custody. I have a place elsewhere. It's under a fake name but, they'll have their own room. If I'm caught, I'll need you to take them somewhere else with you. Hide them. No one can know where they are." Harley nodded. "We can do it. Mister J won't suspect a thing. Our lips are sealed." She nodded to Harvey who nodded in agreement. "Thank you." Jonathan replied. "Come along, (Y/N). It's late." "It is! You need lots of sleep so you can grow even more! Then I can cry because one day you'll say you're too old for cuddles!" Harley lifted you off your feet as she hugged you tightly. She planted three kisses to the side of your face before putting you down. "Come on, let's get your belt on." She pulled you along, jogging with you as you ran with her to the car. "Oh it's nice and warm in here!" Jonathan and Harvey heard Harley exclaim. Jonathan looked at Two-Face. "I'm hoping they'll sleep in the car, we've got a bit of a drive." Two-Face nodded. "The heat will do it. Are they alright?" Harvey asked. Jonathan nodded. "Yes. They were a little frightened at first but it wasn't long before they realised they were going to be alright." "Good." Harvey nodded. "And the guardians?" "They'll be found soon enough." Jonathan replied.

#batman #batman villains #jonathan crane #scarecrow #oneshot #one shot #child!reader

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hellishattempt · 1 year

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all is fair in love and war. . . jason todd.

it is four in the morning but this idea of the joker kidnapping jason's girlfriend, and hurting her in front of him, has been keeping me awake so here we are.

of course this is going to include violence, blood / gore, descriptive injuries, kidnapping, and other things of that likeness. will also include mentions of hospitals / hospital machinery and leukemia so if you are sensitive / easily triggered by those categories, this is not for you </3

summary : you are the resurrected jason todd's girlfriend, living with your mother and little brother in the crime ridden city of gotham. whenever there is danger near you, the red hood immediately swoops in to save you. this has not gone unnoticed by one particular clown of gotham. so he decides to use you to get to the red hood. && this kinda goes along with the arkham knight route of jason's past.

also i kinda hate how i represented the joker in some parts so bear with me. and this is really long. like. way longer than i anticipated. so. sorry?

with that all being said and done, off we go into this delirious one shot.

"i'm sorry" tears were falling from the girl's eyes. "i didn't have a choice."

the boy scoffed. "there's always a choice." he had been led here, sold out by someone he loves once again. first it was his mother, who cared more for her drugs than she did her own son. now, it was his lover. the two women in his life who he was supposed to always be able to trust. and they were the two who had betrayed him. the irony was suffocating.

"he took my brother. he took him." the girl was struggling against her bonds, tied to the balcony above him. her fresh bruises and the cut above her eye showed she had put up a fight. "he's only a boy."

"so was i," the boy's voice cracked. he was twenty - two now, but it was only six years ago when he was trapped in a warehouse much like this one. he was tortured, beaten and abused endlessly for days, weeks, months. a video was taken over the span of the boy's time away. it was sent to his father. the boy's father had done nothing. he was the most powerful man in gotham, and he did nothing. he watched. when he finally did something, it was too late. the boy was dead. the clown had won.

"you would've done the same if it was any one of your brothers."

"i know. it's okay, i'm not mad," his voice sounded distant. she was right, of course. all of his brothers could take care of themselves, and could be scary sometimes, but the boy loved them too much to let them be hurt in any way, even if he doesn't show it.

"i'm sorry," she whispered once more.

from the shadows, that same maniacal laughter from all those years ago rose up from the balcony. the boy faltered, falling into the arms of two large henchmen, who held him tightly. the clacking of the clown's shoes came closer. "ah, young love. so pure. so innocent." he stepped into the light. "so . . . fragile." there stood the clown prince of gotham in his purple suit and bright green hair combed back neatly. his face was painted snow white, accented with his trademark blood red smile. the red looked so much like fresh blood the boy stole a glance at his girl. the cut above her eye had not stopped bleeding. he became sick to his stomach as the thought of the clown's smile being painted with her blood. joker's green eyes were staring down into the boy's deep blue ones. "hello, jason."

the room got smaller. it became harder to breathe. it felt as though he had been slammed into a brick wall. he could still hear it. the scrape of the crowbar. the ticking of the bomb. the crunch of his bones. he could feel the metal breaking him again and again. the ties digging into his skin. the iron taste of blood on his tongue. he had spent six months being abused and tortured by this very villain. it took all of his strength not to just shoot the clown down where he stood.

"it's so good to see you again, little birdie. how's your back? healed nicely after i broke it, i hope. did you get my flowers? i made batsy promise he'd bring them to your grave." the word grave made jason suck in a breath. he had died. and it had been this clown's fault. now he was here, at the mercy of the joker once more.

the joker circled the girl, and crouched down to her level. he ran a gloved hand down her arm. "such a beautiful girl."

"don't touch her!" the red hood shouted from below, struggling against the men holding him.

the clown ignored him. "do you want to hear a joke?" the girl nodded, terrified. she could feel his hot breath on her cheek. "good, good. so, what's red and bad for your teeth?" he grabbed something from the dark with one hand, the other caressing her face. "a brick!" laughing his heartless laugh, the brick came crashing down and slammed into her face. the girl fell to the floor, her scream echoing through the abandoned warehouse.

"(y/n)!" jason's vision rimmed red with fury. he snapped. he wrenched away from his captors, taking both down easily. more of joker's goonies filed into the room. without hesitating, jason killed every single one of them. he would burn the joker down to the ground for hurting her. another scream came from the balcony. jason looked to where she was. the joker had hit her again. distracted, he was easily overpowered. the joker had his people strip him of his utility belt and all weapons. he was helpless.

"now, now, birdie, let's not get too excited here. i know you're just dying for your turn, but don't worry. my crowbar is stored safely away, waiting for your return." the joker walked to the edge of the balcony, tossing the brick between his hands. it dripped with her blood.

"let her go, joker. it's me you want. not her. leave her out of this," jason pleaded.

"ah, ah, ah. sorry, birdie, but no can do! she here is the key to your obedience." the joker just shook his head. he turned back to the girl, "this might sting." the joker continued to hurt her, and jason was defenseless. she grew quieter with every strike, and jason began to worry the joker had pushed too far.

"(y/n). . ." jason breathed. the joker had forced her to stand, and jason got a look at all the damage that had been done. her face was swollen and scratched. the smooth skin now rough and uneven. her hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, matted in knots mixed with dirt and blood. her eyes flitted open and jason got a glance at her irises. one was red from the cut above it. her eye was trying to push the blood out, so it looked as though she was crying bloody tears. her white shirt had been ripped open, revealing her lacy black bra. it was jason's favorite of hers because of the way it defined her features. the lace was torn, and the straps were fraying, slipping from her shoulders. right under her collarbone was red and irritated. the joker had written something on her, much like the "J " he had branded on jason's face. jason tried to make out what it said, but the word was too bloody and too rough to see what it was. her side stained the shirt red, the mark spreading to her stomach. the joker had hit something, and hit it hard. her black flared skirt hid the dark stains of blood well, but jason knew they were there. her long legs were scarred from both the beatings and the jagged floor beneath her. her wrists and ankles were bound by a thorny rope, the material digging into her skin. jason prayed to whatever god what out there that the rope didn't cut too far, for fear of any one of her veins being opened. her bare feet were being stabbed by the jagged iron floor beneath her. blood dripped in a steady stream to the floor below her. the joker had hold of her arm, and it was clear he was the only thing stopping her from falling.

"isn't she so pretty? such a pretty, pretty angel." joker grabbed her face. "wait, now hold on a second. she needs a smile." joker pressed two of his fingers against the wound on her side. evangeline winced, losing her balance, while joker raised the two fingers to her lips and painted a smile on her face. "look, we're matching!" he showed off her smile of blood to jason, his trademark smile right next to hers.

jason couldn't look. his love, his one, his person, was in this mess because of him. she was bloody, broken and bruised because of him. if he had just stayed away, she wouldn't have gotten hurt. but she was so intoxicating. her voice, her laugh, her tendencies and quirks were things he couldn't live without now. it all started in that damn library with that damn book. pride and prejudice. they had tried to check it out at the same time. it was a cliche meet-cute, but jason wouldn't ask for anything better. he had let her check it out, and when it had been returned a week later, (y/n) had left a slip of paper bookmarked on the first chapter. on the note, it read her phone number. "this is a bit risky, but there's no way in hell i'm passing up a hot guy who reads jane austen. call me! xx (y/n)". that was over six months ago.

of course jason called her. she had been so damn beautiful when they met. her hair was half up in a knot on her head, the other fell down in cascading waves. her loose clothes hung from her frame, revealing nothing about the shape of the body beneath it. her lips were slightly chapped, and you could tell she bit on it as a nervous habit. her hands had been cracked, dry from the cold weather outside. she had been standing in the sun, so her blue light glasses reflected across those eyes, and they shone in response.

they set up a date. they were going to meet at the local coffee shop, just across from the library. again, it was cliche, but jason wouldn't have had it any other way. they sat in that coffee shop until closing, having been there for over six hours. they talked about everything: their families, their likes and dislikes, past pets, childhood, and even their most embarrassing moments. when the baristas kicked them out for closing, neither one wanted the night to end. jason wanted to stay with her forever, wanted to hear her lustrous voice for eternity. she invited him back to her apartment, and he smiled so wide as he accepted. they stayed up all night- well, jason did. (y/n) fell asleep on the couch at around four am, three fourths of the way through the six hour pride and prejudice movie.

now here stood the same girl, still just as beautiful, but her beauty was marred by blood and grime. (y/n) looked so helpless in the joker's arms. her broken body was like a ragdoll, limp and lifeless. the sight made jason want to cry and scream and vomit all at the same time. she was so precious and didn't deserve this.

"please," red hood pleaded once more. the psychotic clown just smiled back at him. "i'm begging you. i'll do anything. just don't hurt her anymore."

"my, my. you didn't even beg for your life, but you'll beg for hers?" the joker mused, studying jason. jason was on his knees on the floor below him, his hands bound behind his back. he had been stripped of his utility belt and all weapons. his mask was broken and scattered across the floor, and the domino one wore underneath had been removed. his comm link had been ripped from his ear and crushed. no calling for help now. it was just jason and the joker's army.

"she's all i have left." the words were a whisper, laced with ruin and defeat.

"then i will take her from you, too." the joker pulled out a shiny revolver from behind his back.

"no!" jason called out, tears staining his vision.

glass rained from the ceiling as canisters of smoke gas filled the room. somebody was attacking the warehouse.

a gunshot rang out. a female voice cried in a silenced scream. a body fell to the floor.

"(y/n)!"

just then, four vigilantes landed in the warehouse. the joker screamed out, fleeing from the scene and taking the still body of the girl with him. more goons filled the room as the vigilantes prepared for a fight. the henchmen holding onto jason had let go of him, but he hadn't moved. he was delirious, in shock and unresponsive. a comforting hand was on his shoulder.

"jason? jason, are you okay? are you hurt?" it was dick grayson, aka nightwing and jason's older brother. "come on, jay. we gotta get you outta here." he hauled his younger brother to his feet, slinging jason's arm around dick's shoulders. jason vaguely took in the scene, seeing spoiler, robin and red robin all fighting off men twice their sizes.

"she's gone," jason muttered, mostly to himself. "i couldn't protect her, and now she's dead."

"it's okay, little wing. you're safe now." nightwing's voice was calm. "oracle, red hood's been injured. i can't say how bad, but there's blood all over the warehouse. the joker got to him again. you got to get us out of here." a muffled voice responded to dick's call for help. soon, the batcopter was hovering over them, releasing a ladder for the vigilantes to grab onto. "spoiler, robin, let's go! red robin, come on! we got red hood." the other three nodded in response, running for the swinging rope ladder. but jason's weak body began fighting against dick as he hauled him up.

"no! i won't leave without her!" he thrashed.

"without who? come on, little wing. there's bombs rigged all over the warehouse, we got to go."

"(y/n)! i have to save her. he took her. the blood, it's hers, not mine. please, dick. she's all i have."

dick ran a gloved hand down his face. "shit. jason we can't do anything now. the joker's gone. we have to get back to the batcave first, then we can start looking for her."

jason wasn't happy with that answer, pushing himself off dick. nightwing made a motion to robin that he didn't see, and something sharp was in his neck. his body slowed, becoming numb. dick grabbed him once again. they drugged him? hurt flashed in jason's heavy lidded eyes.

"you bastard. he's gonna kill her," jason croaked. but nightwing just shook his head. then the world went black.

jason awoke some time later, strapped down to a cot in the batcave's medical bay. dick and bruce were in a heated argument a few meters away, while alfred was tending to jason's wounds. tim and damian were spectators to the argument, but it was clear they were on dick's side. cass, steph and duke were no where to be seen. barbara was at the batcomputer, running back the tapes of the previous night's events. jason turned back to his brothers, where it looked like bruce was about to give up. he caught a few words, but couldn't hear much.

"-not stable-"

"-locked up, bruce! he's a hu-"

"it's not safe-"

they were arguing over him, jason could tell. sighing, he looked away, staring at the ceiling.

"master bruce is concerned for you, master jason," alfred's soft voice spoke as the man cleaned his supplies. "you keep running off to track down the joker, and he doesn't understand why. perhaps you should talk to him." the butler left without another word.

he doesn't understand? how could he not? i had to save (y/n), surely bruce understands that. i failed her yesterday, but i won't do that again. i'll find the joker, and i'll kill him like i should've all those years ago.

thumping footsteps pulled jason from his thoughts. it was bruce. he took the seat alfred had just occupied. dick, tim and damian had left the room. jason didn't look at his adoptive father, just kept on staring up. no doubt it was bruce who ordered jason be chained down like a rabid animal.

"jason-" oh no. he was using his tired dad voice. "why did you go after the joker like that yesterday? no one is ever supposed to face him alone." that was a rule bruce had implemented after jason died the first time. dick had nearly murdered the joker when he found out about jason, and bruce had to stop him from going too far. he had already lost one son to the joker, and couldn't lose another. one of the first things he told tim was to never try and face the joker without bruce or someone else there. even then, bruce didn't like the idea of any of his children taking on the clown prince, no matter how many stood against him. the joker was just too unpredictable.

"i had to save her." his voice was dry.

"save who, jason?"

jason said the answer as though it was obvious. it was to him. "(y/n)."

bruce's sigh could be heard halfway across the world. "jason, how many times do we have to go over this? (y/n)'s dead. she died three months ago."

the memory played in jason's head without his permission.

(y/n), lying in a hospital bed with a forced smile stretched across her lips. the heart monitor next to her was slowing, as was her breathing. the girl's cold hands were clasped firmly in jason's warm ones. it was just them in the room, the doctors had left to give them privacy. they were supposed to be saying their goodbyes, but no words could be spoken. she had been diagnosed a few weeks before they met, but had abstained from telling him until a couple months ago.

"say something, please." her voice was barely above a whisper, but that was all the strength (y/n) could muster.

"what's there to say? you're going to die tonight, and i can't do anything about it." jason didn't know how to process his emotions, so he had just turned them off. he felt like he was suffocating in this stupid room. "we were supposed to have the rest of our lives together. i had plans for you and me, you know? i was gonna build us a pretty yellow house, far from here. i was gonna marry you, give you a couple of kids, you know? i was ready to drop everything for you. give up my life as a vigilante for you. but now you're gonna die. you're dying right now."

his words hurt her heart. she wanted that life with him. she wanted kids with him, she wanted to marry him. "i wanna marry you, jailbird." jailbird. it was her nickname for him once she learned he was former robin and now red hood.

"yeah? really?" he picked up his head, to meet her starry, watery eyes. she sniffled and nodded. jason smiled a little and pulled a box out of his pocket. he got down on one knee and opened the box. inside, was a beautiful wedding ring, given to him by his stepmother, catherine todd. she was a shitty person, and he didn't care for her at all, but the ring was the only thing she left him when catherine died. "(y/n), i love you more than i've ever loved anyone. i didn't even think it was possible to have all the feelings i have for you. please, will you marry me?"

her tears rolled down her pale cheeks. "yes, of course, baby. of course i'll marry you. i love you so much, jason. i love you so goddamn much."

(y/n) died hours later.

-----

&&. okay so tbh i didn't know how to end this, and then when i decided i wanted the reader to end up being dead i didn't know how to do that either. so the last like eight paragraphs are kinda just a disaster. oh well. hope you enjoyed and i always take requests! i write anything and everything having to do w dc / batfamily, so don't hesitate to ask for the wildest of things. xx atticus

#jason todd #red hood #batfam #jason todd x reader #the joker #dc comics #joker #dc joker #jason todd angst #batfam angst

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thesandsofelsweyr · 1 year

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REMEMBER JASON TODD?

《 READ ON AO3 》

Joker reminisces to Batman about one of the happiest years of his life: the year he spent breaking Jason Todd.

《RATING》 Mature 《WORDS》 1,865

《CHARACTERS》 Joker, Jason Todd/Robin (Arkhamverse)

《TROPES》 Hurt No Comfort, Jason Todd Needs a Hug

《WARNINGS》 Graphic Depictions of Violence, Underage, Torture, Mindfuck

《NOTES》

I somehow got possessed by a death-worshipping garbage clown and wrote this Jason Todd torture-fest 🃏

If you enjoy the read, please consider reblogging 💚

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are much appreciated!)

Remember Jason Todd? Ugh, what a whiner. Always complaining… We’re both better off without that loser.

I gotta confess though, Bats. Screwing around with his little-kid mind, digging around in his grey matter, stirring it up until Toddy made me look almost sane—that was the happiest I’d been in a long, long time. I’d thank the boy for that, if his brains weren’t splattered all over the basement of Arkham, huhuhu.

Ahh, the memories. I tortured that poor kid for nearly a year. Shattered his ankle, knocked out a few teeth, yanked out a few more, broke a few ribs—well, probably all of his ribs, after it was all said and done. Let’s face it, that pretty red armor of his could only withstand so many beatings before it started wearing down and losing its Bat-tested, Bat-approved effectiveness. Near the end the boy was practically begging me to take it off of him! But, hmm, now that I think of it, that was probably more about his shame over being such a miserable embarrassment to his Batdad and less about its ineffectiveness when I was bashing his skull in with my trusty, rusty crowbar.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes! I even invited a few of my fellow inmates down to take some shots at the little punk who’d terrorized them at Batman’s side. Man oh man, did those guys hate your jilted sidekick or what? I found myself a teensy-bit envious of all the fun they were having with the kid, especially after seeing Bane slam Toddy’s body into that concrete foundation so hard that I’m pretty sure he left a Robin-shaped dent.

Oh Batsy, you should’ve seen our boy’s face! I’m still kicking myself for not including a photo with your consolation prize. The video I sent you just didn’t do him justice. Your enemies collaborated on a masterpiece, they really did. Vibrant reds and pinks, rich purples, blacks, and blues; so battered and broken, his features all askew—Picasso himself would be in awe of their bloody canvas. They must’ve broken his beak at least a dozen times. By the time they were through with him, you wouldn’t even have recognized the little guy.

But c’mon, be honest. We’ve been buds for so long, you and I. You can trust me with anything—Clown’s honor. Tell me, did you even try to find the kid? I never bought the “World’s Greatest Detective” charade, but you gotta admit Batsy, I made it pretty easy for you. I stashed your Boy Blunder in the most obvious place I could think of. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame you for wanting to delete ol’ Jason from your history. He was a real piece of work, fighting me tooth and nail every chance he got, spitting on my hospitality and me. More of a “rabid dog” than a Robin, if I do say so myself. And that mouth of his, ugh! His mother would thank me for the beatings I gave him if she heard half the things he said to me. A real blight on the house of Bat, that one. This new Robin of yours seems more in line with your legacy. Maybe I’ll get my hands on him someday, tenderize him like I did Toddy, huhu.

Well, whatever your reasons, you gave me ample time to get my creative juices flowing. I’d been itching to try out some new ideas that had been floating around my noggin. I’m sure you’re familiar with the Rack. Sadly, I wasn’t able to procure that particular device for our little bird’s cage, but I’ve always been good at improvising. I read somewhere about this rather nasty technique they used during that delightful period known as the Inquisition. Ahh, the good ole days… when torturing people was a paid profession.

With the help of my pal Boles, we tied the boy’s arms behind his back then strung him up by the wrists. Some Arkham orderlies were kind enough to provide me with some weights, which I tied to his ankles. Must’ve been painful because that was the loudest I’d heard the boy squeal since he dropped in my lap! The pitiful thing was wriggling and writhing like a worm on a hook. I left him dangling like that for a few hours since he seemed to enjoy it so much. Tehehe.

That little device of mine ripped his arms clean out of their sockets, yet the bird still refused to break. He was as defiant as ever, cursing at me between sobs. Talk about loyalty. He was ready to die for you. How do you inspire that kind of devotion from these brats? It’s the car, right? Gotta be that fancy car of yours. Hmm, I should get me a Jokermobile of my own someday. Anyway, Junior wasn’t the sharpest Bat-tool in the Bat-shed. Six months of suffering and he was still convinced you were coming to rescue him. I tried to tell him that you’d moved on with your life, found yourself a new partner who wasn’t such a loser, but he refused to believe me. We’d reached an impasse.

But then—here’s the best part of the story, ooo it gives me chills just thinking about it—then you gave me a gift. You actually did replace the kid with a new one. BWAHAHAHAHA, now that’s my brand of cruelty, Bats—I always knew you had it in ya! After everything I’d done to that poor boy, all it took was a photograph to break your bird into a million little pieces. Yes Batsy, a photo of you and his replacement gallivanting around Gotham, saving the city from crazy men like me.

Oh how he bawled after I showed him that photo! And that was even before I beat him senseless with his favorite crowbar. I pressed that photo into his palm before I left him bleeding on the floor of his cage, and, God love 'em, the dumb kid was still begging for his Bat-daddy to come save him from the evil Clown. “Please forgive me, Batman. I tried to be the partner you wanted, I swear I did. I’m so sorry I disobeyed you. Please don’t let him punish me again. I’ll be a good boy for you, I just wanna come home. Wah-wah-wah, boo-hoo-hoo.” If only I had a heart, it would’ve been broken by his pathetic pleas. But I don’t, so I kept beating him for good measure.

Wee Todders was much more pliable after it finally sank into that thick skull of his that you’d abandoned him. I gotta be honest with you, Bats, you made it so easy for me to make him hate you after that, it almost felt like cheating. Still a rootin’ tootin’ good time though. For me at least. Can’t speak for our dearly departed boy toy.

No wonder you dumped his half of the dynamic duo on my doorstep. Talk about rough edges! Took some blood, sweat, and tears (his, not mine) but I eventually sanded him down and hollowed him out; sculpted him into a partner in crime worthy of the Clown Prince of Crime. Had to teach him some manners first, though. Clearly Emily Post wasn’t included in your crime fighting curriculum. Did no one bother to teach the child any words beyond the four-letter variety? Well, I trained him to address me properly: “yes sir”, “no sir”, “please don’t hurt me sir”—that sort of thing. I find that negative reinforcement works best when it comes to naughty little boys like him: electrocution, sensory deprivation, barbed wire bondage, blunt force trauma, starvation, force-feeding, puncture wounds, power tools, waterboarding, acid trips, acid burns, regular burns, stabbings, stranglings, even good ole fashioned paddlings. By the time I was done with the brat I had him thanking me for yanking out his fingernails with red-hot pincers.

Jason was some of my finest work to date, if I do say so myself. I transformed your rejected Robin into a perfect pet. The boy was mine, body and soul, but I wanted to make sure he never forgot who he belonged to, who made him who he truly was, made him realize that potential you tried to snuff out. Let me tell you, he was none too happy about being branded like a bull. You’d think the kid’d be more grateful after all the time I spent hunting down a J-shaped branding iron just for him. He didn’t carry on about it for long though. By that point just the sight of my toybox had him cowering in a corner, shivering and whimpering like a kicked puppy with his tail between his legs.

Speaking of puppies… I even had a collar made for my darling boy, in case my signature on his sweet cheek wasn’t enough. A red leather collar to match that red leather getup. What an adorable sight that was! Him, bruised and scarred from head to toe, down on all fours, staring up at me with those blown out baby blues, full of tears and fear, and dare I say, even affection. That poor kid’s psyche was so twisted by the end that he was clinging to me, clutching at my suit, begging me not to abandon him like you did. Hil-ari-ous! Bless his widdle heart, he was such a good boy by then. I rarely had to punish him but it was just so dang fun I couldn’t resist. I did so well with the little laddy, it got me thinking maybe Harley and I should have a few tykes of our own for me to abuse. But nah, you seem to have so many to spare, I’ll just stick to your brood. Lord knows I don’t want to get saddled with child support—oh the horror!

We had some good times, y’know? Little Toddy-woddy was like a son to me, he really was. He hated you so much it made me one proud papa. It’s a shame I had to put him out to pasture with a bullet through his brain, but he was becoming such a bore. He just didn’t scream as much as he used to—that collapsed lung of his probably had something to do with that. And he was so obedient, so submissive, so utterly desperate to please me… (yawns) If I wanted a vegetable, I would’ve made him a vegetable. This is a nut house after all. Got all the tools I need for a lobotomy right here at home. No, I wanted that ball of wildfire, that feral foul-mouthed urchin I fell in love with! I guess since I’m being honest here, I have only myself to blame. I suppose it’s a lesson to learn for my future bird boy endeavors—you can’t make an omelette without breaking some eggs (and legs) after all.

Welp, no use crying over spilled brain matter! If it’s any consolation to you, my pointy-eared pal, I’ll never forget the kid you gave me and that magical year we spent together. No really, I have a jar full of teeth and fingernails to remember him by! hehehehehehehehe

#sands writes #jason todd #joker #robin #arkham asylum #arkham knight #arkhamverse #dcu #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd whump #whump #collars #dead dove: do not eat

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denimbex1986 · 9 months

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'Cillian Murphy just might be the definition of magnetic on-screen. He can pull the viewer in with his intensity, vulnerability, or good old-fashioned charm, whatever best fits the role he’s playing. Whether he's an apocalypse-surviving reluctant hero or a quietly intimidating comic book villain, a brave rebel leader or a troubled soldier, Murphy can captivates with his performance.

Born in Cork, Ireland, Murphy got his start in theater in his hometown, and had his first professional acting role in the play, Disco Pigs. He later starred in the film adaptation of Disco Pigs, just before his breakout role in the zombie horror film, 28 Days Later, directed by Danny Boyle. As would become a trend with Murphy, once he found a collaborator, he would often reteam with them: He once again worked with Boyle on the sci-fi thriller Sunshine.

Perhaps no director has been a bigger fan of Murphy than Christopher Nolan has been. The filmmaker first cast the actor in Batman Begins, a role that Murphy reprised briefly in The Dark Knight and The Dark Knight Rises. They worked together again for Inception and Dunkirk.

Now, Murphy stars in the filmmaker's historical thriller, Oppenheimer, in theaters July 21. In an impressive ensemble cast that includes Matt Damon, Robert Downey Jr., Emily Blunt, and Florence Pugh, Murphy plays J. Robert Oppenheimer, the theoretical physicist and "father of the atomic bomb," whose work on the Manhattan Project during World War II led to the invention of the first nuclear weapons.

With this highly anticipated film coming out, below, A.frame takes a look back at 10 essential films in Murphy's body of work.

1. Disco Pigs 2001

Murphy already had several films under his belt by the time he starred in Disco Pigs, a romantic crime drama based on the play of the same name — which Murphy also starred in. Here, he plays Pig, a youth in his late teens who has shared an intense friendship with Runt (Elaine Cassidy) his entire life. On the precipice of their 17th birthday (they were born on the same day in the same hospital), Pig develops feelings for Runt just as she’s starting to be interested in another boy. The intensity of Pig and Runt’s relationship worries their parents, and Runt is sent to a boarding school. Pig does not take this well, resulting in a tragic outcome for both of them. Disco Pigs gave audiences a glimpse of the intensity Murphy could bring to a role, and that he had the makings of a star.

2. 28 Days Later 2002

28 Days Later is not only the movie that gave mindless zombies (or infected technically) terrifying speed, it’s the movie that put Murphy on the map. Oscar winner Danny Boyle’s horror thriller stars Murphy as Jim, a man who wakes up from a coma to find that the U.K. has been destroyed after the "rage" virus swept through the country. Alone at first, he meets other survivors, played by Naomie Harris, Megan Burns, and Oscar nominee Brendan Gleeson, and the group struggles to survive the hordes of the infected monsters that remain. Murphy was a total standout in the small but stacked cast, easily establishing himself as a star.

3. Batman Begins 2005

Murphy entered his villain era when he was cast as a Batman supervillain in Nolan's first Batman film, Batman Begins. He plays Dr. Jonathan Crane, an Arkham Asylum psychiatrist who wears a burlap mask and utilizes a fear-inducing hallucinogen to terrorize his victims as the Scarecrow. Batman himself falls victim to the Scarecrow at one point. He’s not the final bad guy in the movie, but he's an important antagonist who pops up again in cameos in both sequels, The Dark Knight and The Dark Knight Rises.

4. Red Eye 2005

This Wes Craven-directed thriller takes place almost entirely on a plane, and part of what makes it work so well are its two leads: Rachel McAdams as everywoman Lisa and Murphy as the charming but threatening Jackson Rippner. Jackson reveals himself to be a hitman mastermind, attempting a political assassination by forcing Lisa to rearrange things at the hotel she runs to achieve his goal, threatening to kill her father (and many others) if she fails. The interplay between Murphy and McAdams is top notch, with Murphy playing another truly memorable villain in the process.

5. Breakfast on Pluto 2005

Breakfast on Pluto, based on a novel of the same name, stars Murphy as Kitten, a trans woman searching for her birth mother after being abandoned as a child. Kitten navigates a wide range of circumstances in 1970s Ireland and London, from the IRA to magicians to sex work, all while maintaining her kind and optimistic nature. Murphy’s portrayal of Kitten is thoughtful and hopeful, as the character wins over people with her innocent honesty and self-acceptance.

6. The Wind That Shakes the Barley 2006

One of Murphy’s most defining roles thus far is the one that takes him back to his home country and its tragic fight for independence. In Ken Loach’s war drama The Wind That Shakes the Barley, Murphy plays one of a pair of brothers who end up on opposite sides of the Irish Civil War after fighting together in the war for Ireland’s independence. It's a heartbreaking film, and features an incredible performance by Murphy as he goes from idealistic rebel to leader in the fight for Irish independence, with a devastating ending reflecting the ongoing conflict in Ireland.

7. Sunshine 2007

Sunshine reunited Murphy with his 28 Days Later director Boyle for a sci-fi thriller about a group of astronauts on a mission to restart the sun and prevent the Earth from freezing. Murphy is part of an incredible ensemble cast including Oscar winner Michelle Yeoh, Rose Byrne, Chris Evans, Cliff Curtis, Hiroyuki Sanada, Benedict Wong, and Troy Garity. Sunshine almost feels like a suspenseful play in outer space, led by Murphy as the physicist who created a device that will hopefully save the world, or doom it if it fails.

8. Inception 2010

Inception marked Murphy’s second major collaboration with Nolan, appearing as the target of Leonardo DiCaprio’s dream heist crew. Murphy is the heir to a business empire, who the team plans to "incept" with the idea to dissolve his father’s company. Though secondary to the main action and the dream landscapes, Murphy delivers a powerful performance, going through an emotional arc with his father despite the manipulations of DiCaprio’s team (including Elliot Page, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and Tom Hardy). The film received eight Oscar nominations, including Best Picture, and went on to win for Best Cinematography, Best Sound Editing, Best Sound Mixing, and Best Visual Effects.

9. Anthropoid 2016

Anthropoid, based on a true story, stars Murphy and Jamie Dornan as a pair of Slovak and Czech soldiers, respectively, participating in Operation Anthropoid, the real life assassination of Reinhard Heydrich, the principal architect of the Holocaust. Murphy and Dornan are both excellent as they struggle to complete their mission, caught between the need to make an important blow against the Nazis and the potential fallout if they’re caught.

10. Dunkirk 2017

Reunited with Nolan for a fifth time, Murphy joins another ensemble, including Kenneth Branagh, Tom Hardy, Mark Rylance, and Barry Keoghan, in the war epic Dunkirk, about the real life evacuation of thousands of British troops from a beach in France early in WWII. He’s credited only as "Shivering Soldier," the sole survivor of a U-boat attack rescued by one of the civilian boats headed for Dunkirk to rescue soldiers. Murphy brings all his intensity to the role, a man mentally destroyed by his experiences in the war, and terrified at the thought of returning to a battlefield. Dunkirk received a total of eight Oscar nominations, including Best Picture and Best Directing, and went on to win for Best Editing, Best Sound Editing, and Best Sound Mixing.'

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hartsmusings · 10 months

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Op from a long since deactivated roleplay Twitter account with Taylor Momsen as a faceclaim

Backstory

Kaira De'Medici-Napier

@HybridNapier

Kaira’s parents aren't your typical love story… in fact it wasnt a love story at all … more like a once in a while thing between a psych nurse and a psychotic patient .

Mercy Medici, kaira’s mother, was fresh out of New Orleans finest nursing school. Her friends and family were all born and raised in and around new orleans bayou, and had a long line of family secrets, and she had wanted out of there since she was a child, so she wouldn't end up howling at the moon like the rest of her family, so when her fellow nurse friends got her a job at Arkham asylum up in gotham, thinking it would help “spice up” her resume before she moved on to gotham general, she hopped on the first buss out of there.

On her first set of rounds is when she meets Jack Napier , also known as “the joker” on his what seemed like billionth incarceration into Arkham. His charm and wit drew mercy in like a moth to a flame...on more than one occasion.

To Mercy, it was the best sex she had ever expereanced, due to the fact the it was expressly forbidden for staff and patients to...well...fuck . dodging cameras, stealing keys, helping Jack escape …. Until the day Mercy discovered that she...in fact..was pregnant.

A handful of pregnancy tests , a blood test and a fluttering heartbeat on an ultrasound later, it was confirmed. Mercy confronted Jack with the news, and he was more than ecstatic. that night…..he escaped again with Mercy’s help, saying he would return for her later that week….but he never did.

The pregnancy was a difficult one with Mercy working every day in the asylum...she’d see Jack every now and then when Batman threw him in the asylum, but it was like he didn't even know her.

(9 months later)

Mercy’s depression had gotten so bad, even after talking with the asylum's newest therapist ...Mercy told them everything, even who the father of the baby was, but being around Jack and in the asylum took a toll on her mind and body.

It was during a therapy session that her water broke, and oh boy was I coming in hot….feet first

With no time to get to the hospital, the doctors and nurses performed an emergency cesarean. Mercy was screaming and moaning the whole time due to no epidural...a nurse slapped a breathing mask on mercy, filled with laughing gas (nitrous-oxide) to try and help with the pain, but mercy had a bad reaction to the gas and died on the table as they pulled little me out of the hole they had sliced open in mercy’s stomach.

I came into this world streaming and covered in my mothers blood… They named me Kaira ( meaning beloved friend ) and smudged some paperwork to say I died in the process , just in case Jack ever came looking for me, and sent me to the Gotham orphanage with the name in my file Kaira Anna Smith, i wouldnt find out till years later … where I came from and who I was...

( 17 years and 11 months later )

Gotham City Orphanage

“ KAIRA ANNA “

The headmaster called out for what seemed like the hundredth time today, a slather of green paint across his backside from sitting in the puddle of it...The paint now dripping down the legs of his chair.

The clatter of a paint can along with a painful grunt could be heard in the hallway , a child like laughter faded into a slur of curse words as one of the teachers in the orphanage dragged Kaira in to the headmasters office by her neck, a pained expression on their face and their slight limp showed that Kaira had punched them in the groin to try and get away.

Kaira went to get up but the teacher pushed her back down into the chair by her shoulder.

“ you wouldn't happen to know who did this….would you?” motioning to the green paint now on the floor, a smirk appeared on kaira’s face as she went to laugh but quickly looked down when she saw how red the headmaster’s face was.

“ very...festive headmaster….“ Kaira softly chuckled and the headmaster's face went from peeved to pissed off red.

“ it’s always something with you , isn't it...well i think this time...i'm out of options kaira”

Opening the filing cabinet and pulling out her file, it looked more like a book with all the pranks and injuries she had caused over the years, slamming it down on the desk and adding today's incident to the pile.

“ I've already called the asylum…”

Kaira had only heard the stories about that place.

“ you what…” the teacher pushed her back down into the chair as she tried to get up again, this time planting their hands on both her shoulders

“ please, don't send me there...please “

“ you have given me no choice Kaira...im sorry it has to come to this but we can't risk the safety of the other children any longer, at least it's better the throwing you out on the streets in a month ” his gaze traveled to the monitors on one wall, the fuzzy blue lit screen showed a white van pulling up to the back of the orphanage “ you'll at least have a roof over your head”

The white clad men from the van came into the building and straight to the office .

Kaira tried to run but they grabbed her by her arms , injected her with a tranquilizer to knock her out and moved her to the van without anyone seeing them…

( a few months later )

Kaira pounded on the tempered glass wall of her cell

“ You can't keep me here mother fuckers “ she yelled at the camera pointed at her cell, flipping it off.

“ oh yes they can my dear...and they will do alot worse if you dont shut your fucking mouth “ a mans voice chuckled from across the way. A pale faced ,green haired man leaned up against the glass of his cell and smiled “ you look familiar, have we met before? '' gazing at her, with the image of mercy in his head.

By the time jack had returned to the asylum, he was told by the head doctor there that mercy had died along with the child, Mercy's cremated remains were sent to her family back in new orleans, he slumped into a deep depression cuz he had developed feelings for this nurse….these are in the days before harleen…the child mercy had been carrying was his hope at a better future….this girl across from him now, had Mercy's eyes...had the doctors lied to him all those years ago?

Kaira glared at the man across from her, she knew who the joker was, but seeing him this close was frighting, his menacing grin had her taking a step back in her own cell, even though there were 4 panes of tempered glass and a walkway between them...for now.

A buzz rang through the lockup area of the asylum and the cell doors opened as armed guards walked by

“Dinner time freaks”

Jack slicked behind her in the cafeteria line

“ What's your name child?” he whispered, even from behind she looked like mercy.

“ Leave me alone joker, i don't care to know the monster who killed my mother” kaira sneered as she grabbed a tray of food and made her way to the far back corner of the small cafeteria , sitting on the floor with her back to the wall.

Jack made his way over to her “what do you mean i killed her? I was told she died in childbirth...along with...wait a minute...how old are you?”

“ 18 last month “ shoving a slice of bread dipped in applesauce into her mouth.

“Kaira…” Jack slid down the wall to sit beside her “ your mother’s name was mercy..…she died bringing you into this world...i was told you died with her….you have her eyes”

This was out of character for Jack, the stories kaira was told and heard painted him out to be a ruthless mad man, not this...wannabe-father figure sitting next to her.

“ What's it to you old man?” she was cold to him, not expecting what came next, he scribbled something on a piece of paper and slid it to her…

“ open that later “ he jumped up, visibly upset, and walked away through the crowded cafeteria .

After returning to her cell she unfolded the note, on the note was four words

“I aM YOUr FaTher”

Over the next few years, kaira and jack became close, even escaped together a few times, causing turmoil and chaos throughout gotham…as a father and daughter crime family, the clown king and the clown princess of crime… kaira had finally found her family

It was nearing her 21st birthday when her father met the incomparable miss quinzell...and well we all know how that sickening gag inducing story went….and once again Kaira was left behind…again

Her and Quinn never got along at the asylum, quinn would try and keep kaira away from her father… outside the asylum, when Kaira was out and her father was still inside, Harleenkicked kaira out of the place her and her father had made their own, down in the docks of Gotham city...so she found her own hidden spot, far from the kissy faces and the sex noises….kaira did not need to the “ whos your daddy” coming from her own father… *audibly gags*

It was a bit of slink down a few allies ways, a hop skip and a jump over a few docks and a short climb up a sketchy fire escape and thru a broken widow and down a hallway thru a door in to a semi livable studio apartment , that she paid for by doing repairs round the building for the landlord, as a thank you for helping in many escapes from the asylum.

A kitchen in one corner and her bed was behind a pull away curtain in the other corner...her own little place, but it wasn't enough...she needed to get out of gotham…

So she grabbed an old worn duffle from her closet, tossing it on her bed, she threw in a few set of clothes in to it, her toothbrush and a locket with her mother's picture inside...borrowing some cash from her neighbor, kaira hopped a bus to the farthest place she could think of...new orleans.

Sliding out of the broken window for the last time, kaira made her way to the bus station in the middle of downtown, and as she slid on to the outbound bus she felt like she could finally breathe… closing her eyes for a little while, since it was gonna be a long, long night.

( the next evening - new orleans buss depot )

“NOW ARRIVING IN NEW ORLEANS '' the mechanical voice rang out, pulling kaira from a dreamless sleep, stretching her arms up and letting out a yawn, she got up from her seat and grabbed her bag from the overhead bin.

New orleans was in the mist of one of its many holidays, because no matter what day it was, the following night was packing bourbon street with as many patrons as possible, getting blackout drunk at anyone of its many bars and diners, as people flashed each other for dollar store plastic beads.

Kaira snuck into an alleyway that was dimly lit, into what seemed to be an abandoned courtyard, with overhead wrap around balconies, she could smell pastries cooking and followed the smell to a little kitchen, where the cook was pulling a fresh batch of beignets out of the oven. Kaira peeked in just as they were sprinkling powdered sugar over them. She looked quite disheveled and homeless with her bag over her shoulder, and the cook noticed her in the doorway.

“ oh my cher, come her’ child and warm up by the stove “ they motion to a chair by the stove “ let aunty bring ya’ some fresh Beignets “kairas bag was whisked out of her hands , dropped by her feet and replaced with a plate of steaming hot beignets smothered in brown butter and powdered sugar “ eat up child, you gave me quite a fright, but aunty always has extras for those who need a full belly”

Taking her first bite, kairas face smoothed into one of joy , she had never had a beighet before, these were so delicious.

“ thank you” she said , with a full mouth “ these are… so...good”

The cook nodded as they whisked away the rest of the food to the patrons out front, kaira stuffed another one in her mouth, dusting off the powdered sugar from her white top and reaching for the glass of milk the cook had placed near her..overreaching and ending up knocking it over on to the floor as the cook came back in.

“ shit, im sorry...let me help with tha…” kaira leaned down on to the floor to help pick up and then cut her hand on the broken glass “ouch, fuck that stings” the thin line of ruby red blood formed on her palm as the next thing she knew , something had pushed her out of the way and pinned her up agenist the wall and was growling in her ear, her eyes were closed tight in fear.

“ open your eyes '' a gravely english accented ordered, kaira breath quickened as she opened her eyes to a pair of deep blue eyes staring back at her “ calm your breathing” he ordered as a calmness washed over her “ now don't move or scream '' Kaira nodded softly, what was happening to her? Why couldn't she move? Why couldn't she look away from the man before her? The blood from her palm made a stain on her pant leg as she left his hot breath on her neck, he bit down as she passed out from fear.

The next thing she knew she was in the courtyard again, this time she was on one of the many old style beaches … kaira heard voices around her, conversing on what to do with her..

“ you never let me have any fun klaus “ a female voice pouted

“ we could just compel her away “ a studious proper sounding voice spoke next

“ i think we are being listened to “ the first gravely english voice said

Kaira held her breath, she felt a woosh of cold air then the man from before was seated next to her with his hand upon her throat, turning it to reveal puncture wounds .

“ i don't believe she is from around here Nicklaus “ the proper one said

“ i'm not ” kaira managed to choke out His grip tighten on her throat

“ I was thinking of turning her “ the man with his hand on her throat said “ I just wanted to see what you two thought of her before I did.

“ she is quite beautiful” the female said

“ and you could use the new plaything rebecka “ the prober one said

“ it's settled then” turning kairas eyes to his “ this is gonna hurt, just don't move or scream okay” kairas body went limp as he bit in to his own wrist and forced it into her mouth “ drink” he ordered as the blood from his wrist dripped onto her tongue. Kaira drank as ordered, what she didn't see coming was the female behind her, gripping her head on both sides and snapping her neck….

Was this death? Was this where she was gonna die? These questions and more swirled through her head as she collapsed on the ground, her huma life now over….a child of the night...a vampire life...was now beginning.

(nighttime ,basement of the mikaelson’s compound, a full day later)

Kaira woke up in a daze, in ...was this a coffin...was she dead? Kaira began to scream as she pounded on the lid, pushing it up, she heard it clatter to the ground…

“ Look who finally woke up” the man known as Klaus stepped out of the shadows, helping her out of the coffin. Kaira was still in a daze, her throat burned and she was so thirsty.

“ I bet you're thirsty aren't ya?” kaira nodded, her throat hurt too much to speak. Klaus led her over to a form nearby, it was the cook from last night, the one that had been so nice to her when she arrived in New Orleans. Kalus pulled the cooks arm up to kairas mouth, the smell of the blood was intoxicating and devine at the same time, sher bit down and let the rush of warm blood run down her throat, she drank so deeply in fact that kaira didn't realize that the cook’s heart had long since gave out and died...triggering something deep inside kaira...something primal..the pain of cracking bones had her screaming as she dropped the cooks arm. Throwing her head back as her shoulder blades and spine cracked and broke, changing her, the next thing she knew...kaira was howling. She wasn't the only wolf in the rook, Klaus was gone and in his place stood a large brown wolf with golden eyes, he kicked a blood bag over to her and she snapped it up with no second thought.

The basement had a tunnel that led out to the bayou, she followed klaus down the tunnel and as soon as the cold night air blew through her brown and golden fur...she had fur, kairas mind was a scramble of questions….but all she wanted right now...was to run.

( the following morning, back at the compound)

Kaira awoke in bed this time, hoping last night was a fever dream….until she began to look around… her bag was on the chair across from the bed….she went to get up and realized she was naked. pulling the sheet from the bed ,she wrapped it around her, the blood stains on the sheet had her turning back to the bed and she screamed at what she saw....a guy she didn't even recognize, with his neck and stomach torn out…. Had she done that, what was she...the images of last night replayed in her head…

“ You’re a hybrid if that's what you're wondering” Klaus was in the doorway, one of his classic smirks on his face ” a wolf and a vampire” he motions for two of the staff he kept around , to clean up the room. “ you didn't know about your wolf side ...did you?”

“ I was raised in an orphanage, so no, I didn't know about my wolf side…” klaus pinned her to the wall, her grip on the sheet was faltering

“ don't you snap at me pup” releasing his grip when he realized she was in a sheet, his gaze went up to the ceiling “ get dressed , you have a lot to learn about the family you have joined here in new orleans” and with that klaus stormed out of the room whilst kaira pulled an outfit out of her bag.

Kaira was a hybrid, that much she knew now, in her whole human life the most she had to worry about was Batman throwing her in the asylum, but now...there were witches, wolves, vampires, doppelgangers...oh my!

What would this new life bring?

TBC…(when I have muse for it)

#TheDonLlama #DonBrattyLlama #HærtEstate #HærtArmy #HærtsOfLove #KalieJay981 #Hærtlings #TheDonofTheHærtEstate #MakeLoveNotWar #my writing #fantasy #spilled ink #fanfic

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margotbeautifulrobbiefan · 2 years

Text

Barry Keoghan's 1 Joker Rule Made His The Batman Villain Even Better

Barry Keoghan had one rule for his version of the Joker in Matt Reeves' The Batman, and it makes his villain even better – here's why and what it is.

The most recent version of The Joker is that by Barry Keoghan in Matt Reeves’ The Batman, who even though ended up having a very brief appearance and didn’t show off his full look, followed Keoghan’s only rule for the character, which actually makes his Joker even better. The latest live-action adaptation of the Caped Crusader is The Batman, directed by Matt Reeves, which had a surprise for viewers right at the end with the introduction of a new Joker who has already fought Batman.

The Batman saw the title character (now played by Robert Pattinson) working alongside James Gordon (Jeffrey Wright) and the Gotham City Police Department to catch a mysterious serial killer known as The Riddler (Paul Dano). This investigation leads Batman into Gotham’s criminal underworld, led by Carmine Falcone (John Turturro) and Oswald “Oz” Cobblepot (Colin Farrell), where he also meets Selina Kyle (Zoë Kravitz). The biggest surprise The Batman had to offer was the introduction of a new Joker, in the scene where The Riddler is sent to Arkham State Hospital. There, he quickly befriends the inmate living in the cell next to his, who is none other than the Joker. A better look at him was given when Warner Bros. released a deleted scene with the Joker and Batman, and a subtle but important detail made him even better: Keoghan’s natural blue eyes, which was his only rule when it comes to his Joker’s look.

In an interview with GQ, Keoghan shared his one request for playing this new Joker, who is severely disfigured and thus required hours of make-up and prosthetics. Keoghan insisted that his natural blue eyes stay the same so the audience would be aware of “the human in there behind the makeup”, explaining that the Joker is “a bit charming and a bit hurt” and he wants “people to relate to him”. Keoghan’s Joker retaining this human element, as subtle as it might be, makes The Batman’s version of the Clown Prince of Crime more of a figure of tragedy than past Jokers, but without making him overly sympathetic – after all, this is one of Gotham City’s most dangerous criminals.

This human element is also an important difference from the most notable version of the Joker to date: Heath Ledger’s in Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight. Ledger’s Joker is widely regarded as the best due to how unpredictable and menacing he was and for being a pure agent of chaos around Gotham City, thus lacking any humanity that could help the audience connect or even empathize a little with him (even what could have been his most “human” element, the story about how he got his scars, was a mess). Keoghan’s performances so far, no matter the genre, have stood out for being charismatic enough to allow the audience to connect with them and understand them but without having them root for the bad guy. This is exactly what the Joker is about, as he’s manipulative and charismatic, but his intentions are not exactly for the good of everyone, and Keoghan can easily bring that balance between menacing, human, and completely insane.

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littlemouserat · 2 years

Photo

Picture day In Gotham: Show Me A Smile, Jervis.

The GCPD arrived hours ago. They knew it was going to be a late night when they first got the dispatch. The Mad Hatter was up to his usual antics: which consists of tea, sweets, tech and blood. And, as usual, the bat got there first, and he hardly exists a scene without leaving a mess behind. Besides the broken furniture and scattered bits of microchips and other electronics, there seemed to be a struggle. The drywall was plastered with bullet holes, broken glass littered the floor and splatters of blood accompanied the pieces. Although the shards of glass seemed to be the likely cause of the blood spatter (as no bullets made contact), but judging by the state The Hatter was left in (beaten, bruised, and incoherent) it’s hard to say for sure. Hatter was sent off to the Gotham General Hospital hours ago to treat his more severe injuries, though it’s expected he’ll make a full recovery (to the delight of no one on the scene) and will be shipped to Arkham once he’s in a more stable condition.

The cleanup and collection of evidence was going without a hitch. But among the shell casings and spilt tea, there was an interesting discovery: a photograph. The photo was weathered, and its surface was covered lightly in scratches. A corner singed, most likely burned with a match and a splatter of blood was fresh on the surface. The subject of the photo was of a child. No more than 7. with a polka dot bow tie and suspenders. From the framing it looked to be a school photograph. But something was strange yet oddly familiar about the child. His ears were as big as his head. Teeth, large and discolored, taking up most of his face, yet despite his toothy mouth, a smile is nowhere to be found. His eyes sunken …and sad.

It was not just any schoolboy. It was Jervis Tetch. The Mad Hatter himself. The criminal madman, who was notorious for mind control and his love of Wonderland ,was staring back at them, not full of rage or wearing a sinister Cheshire grin… but with sadness… vulnerability… loneliness.

For once they didn’t see the infamous criminal that plagued the city of Gotham… all they could see was a child. Just a child who was too afraid to smile for his school photo because he knew the other kids would laugh at his toothy grin. A child who knew he would get yelled at, the moment his parents saw his ‘ruined’ photo. A child who would sit alone in a bathroom stall debating if he should hide in there all day because he knows his silly polka dot tie will draw unwanted attention from his peers. He was just a child. He was someone we might’ve know in life. He’s someone we might’ve been in life… he’s not some monster born to be evil… he’s just a person.

They looked away from the photo, head filling with mixed emotions and curiosities: Why did he keep this photo? Was he the one who burned it? Did seeing this cause his outburst? But, with a tap on their shoulder and a whispered “You good?” from their superior. They nodded in response and with a sigh, they Delicately placed the photo into an evidence bag.

#batman #jervis tetch #the mad hatter #the new adventures of batman #tnab #batman the animated series #btas #ratter #my post.#my art #did i just make a mini fic to go with a silly school photo drawing of Jervis Tetch? yee #mad hatter #also the photo says march 5 but it's uploading on the 6 cause i took to long writing lol #gotham city #gotham

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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years

Text

Arkham Files: Dr. Alchemy/Dr. Albert Desmond/Mr. Element

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Dr. Albert Desmond, also known as Dr. Alchemy and Mr. Element. Patient suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder. Session One. So, Dr. Desmond, how are you feeling?

Dr. Alchemy: Go away. I’m reading.

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond, I promise that you will be able to return to your books as soon as this session is over. But for right now, I need you to talk to me.

Dr. Alchemy: I am not interested in conversation. Leave me alone.

Hugo Strange: I’m afraid I cannot do that, Dr. Desmond. As your psychologist, I have a responsibility to maintain your well-being.

Dr. Alchemy: I have read countless books on the subject of psychology, Dr. Strange. There is nothing you can teach me that I do not already know.

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond, this is not about knowledge. It is about helping you to live a more productive life.

Dr. Alchemy: Dr. Desmond would likely appreciate the sentiment, but he isn’t here right now. So please, leave me to my studies. I have important work to do, and no time for idle chatter.

Hugo Strange: I take it I am speaking to one of Dr. Desmond’s alters, then?

Dr. Alchemy: Yes. I am Doctor Alchemy. Now kindly go away and leave me alone.

Hugo Strange: I’m afraid that I cannot do that, Dr. Alchemy. As your psychologist, it would be irresponsible of me not to hold these therapy sessions with you.

Dr. Alchemy: You are not my psychologist; you are Dr. Desmond’s psychologist. Dr. Desmond is not here right now, so you have no responsibilities in this room. Go away.

Hugo Strange: Dr. Alchemy, you and Dr. Desmond share the same body, and are fragmented parts of the same basic personality. Medically and legally, both of you are my patients...as are any other alters that may exist.

Dr. Alchemy: Be that as it may, I have nothing to say to you. Go away.

Hugo Strange: (Sighs) If I arrange to have some more rare books delivered to your room, will you agree to participate in the session, Dr. Alchemy?

Dr. Alchemy: (Pleased) Yes. Thank you, Dr. Strange. (Pause) What do you want to know?

Hugo Strange: According to your files, you are a very educated man. You have PhDs in chemistry, biochemistry, and molecular biology. You could easily earn money legitimately...and, in fact, Dr. Desmond does just that in his career at S.T.A.R. Labs. Why, then, did you choose to become a costumed criminal?

Dr. Alchemy: Research is expensive, Dr. Strange. How else was I to fund my experiments?

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond usually asks for grant money.

Dr. Alchemy: Only because he wastes our talents on safe, predictable work. I, on the other hand, push the boundaries of established science. That frightens the complacent and the simple-minded, and as such, they dismiss my work as lunacy and refuse to help me in my endeavors to expand humanity’s understanding of the cosmos.

Hugo Strange: Even if that is true, Dr. Alchemy, your file indicates that you are a metahuman with the power to transmute the elements at will. Why not use that power to create gold or silver, sell it for a profit, and use that to fund your experiments?

Dr. Alchemy: And debase my powers by using them for something as mundane as earning petty cash from the mindless multitudes? Never.

Hugo Strange: But you’re perfectly willing to use those same powers to steal money from the same mindless multitude?

Dr. Alchemy: Of course. I am the lord of the very elements! It is my right to take whatever I desire.

Hugo Strange: You are stealing! Like a common thief!

Dr. Alchemy: A common thief could not turn your blood into formaldehyde, Dr. Strange.

Hugo Strange: Was that a threat, Dr. Alchemy?

Dr. Alchemy: No, not a threat. Merely a reminder of your position.

Hugo Strange: (Angry) Let me make one thing clear, Dr. Alchemy. When you were sent here, you were, effectively, declared a ward of the state. I am the head of this Asylum. I want to help you, but if you prove to be a threat to me, the other patients, or the staff, I will authorize that you be put on a regime of enough antipsychotic drugs to all but kill your conscious mind.

Dr. Alchemy: (Quiet laugh) And break your Hippocratic Oath by sentencing poor Dr. Desmond to a living death? I don’t believe you have that in you, Dr. Strange.

Hugo Strange: (Icily) To prevent one of the most powerful metahumans in the world from laying waste to this institution? There is very little I would not do, Dr. Alchemy. Metahuman power dampeners have a very limited effect on you, and I am not enough of a fool to rely solely on your goodwill to keep you in check.

Dr. Alchemy: (Quickly) In that case, I rescind my reminder.

Hugo Strange: I’m glad to hear that, Dr. Alchemy. (Pause) So tell me, what is your relationship with your city’s scarlet-clad vigilante?

Dr. Alchemy: The Flash? He’s an impediment to my research, nothing more.

Hugo Strange: And your decision to put on a costume was in no way inspired by him?

Dr. Alchemy: Perhaps on some level. But he means nothing to me. Dr. Desmond is the one who cares about him.

Hugo Strange: In that case, will you permit me to speak with Dr. Desmond?

Dr. Alchemy: Certainly not. That weak-willed fool would only interfere with my studies.

Dr. Hugo Strange: If you cooperate, I’ll see what I can do about getting you a first-edition copy of The Grapes of Wrath.

Dr. Alchemy: Very well. If I can find Dr. Desmond, I’ll let him know that he wishes to speak with you.

(Long pause)

Hugo Strange: Are you all right, Dr. Alchemy?

Albert: (in a voice that is similar to, but distinguishable from, Dr. Alchemy’s) W-where am I? What’s going on?

Hugo Strange: (Realizing) Is this Dr. Albert Desmond?

Albert: Y-yes. (Pause) Who are you? What is this place? What am I doing here?

Hugo Strange: I am Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. What is the last thing you remember, Dr. Desmond?

Albert: I...I was at home with my wife, Rita. She was making dinner, and I felt a headache coming on, so I went outside to get some fresh air and-(Pause) Oh, no. It happened again, didn’t it?

Hugo Strange: I’m afraid so, Dr. Desmond. A week ago, Dr. Alchemy was captured by the Flash whilst attempting to turn an entire stadium’s worth of people into tungsten. Since Iron Heights Penitentiary is currently incapable of holding metahuman criminals, it was decided that he should be transferred to Arkham Asylum, pending his trial.

Albert: Not again...not again! It’s been three years since the last time. I thought that the nightmare was finally over.

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond, the courts are aware of your… highly unusual...form of Dissociative Identity Disorder. You will almost certainly be declared not guilty by reason of insanity.

Albert: And then they’ll lock me away in a hospital instead of a prison. Rita and I...we have a baby son! Is he going to grow up with his father shut away in a mental institution? (Pause) I should have had her divorce me. At least that way she wouldn’t be raising our son all by herself. And she wouldn’t have to worry about both her and the baby being murdered by a costumed maniac!

Hugo Strange: Neither of your alters have ever actually murdered someone, Dr. Desmond.

Albert: No. But from what I’ve been told, it hasn’t been from lack of trying. (Pause) I let her marry me. I knew what I was, and I let her marry a monster.

Hugo Strange: You are not a monster, Dr. Desmond. Your family members, the police and judicial departments of Central City, and even your city’s costumed vigilante all swear as to your good moral character.

Albert: Good moral character? Dr. Strange, both of my alters are criminals; which means that there’s a part of me...there’s a part of me that wants to do the things they do. If there wasn’t, surely I would have been able to get rid of them by now. The fact that I haven’t proves that I don’t have good morals.

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond, do you ever remember the actions of your alters?

Albert: Almost never. (Pause) I usually end up finding out about it after the fact. You have no idea how horrible it is to have someone tell you that your body went on a crime spree that you don’t remember anything about.

Hugo Strange: In other words, you have dissociative amnesia during the periods in which your alters are dominant. (Pause) Do you make an effort to prevent your alters from emerging, Dr. Desmond?

Albert: Of course I do! I take medication, I exercise, I ensure that I always get a full night’s rest, I go to therapy….I don’t want to be a monster.

Hugo Strange: A monster wouldn’t battle his illness in the way that you do, Dr. Desmond. You are not a monster. You are ill, and through no fault of your own.

Albert: I...I wish I could believe that, Dr. Strange. (Pause) But honestly? I’m starting to think that maybe I should just be locked up forever. It would...it would be better for everyone.

(Long pause)

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond? Dr. Desmond, are you all right?

Mr. Element: (in a voice that is similar to, but distinguishable from, Dr. Alchemy and Albert’s voices) I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong man, Doc.

Hugo Strange: Who are you? And what happened to Dr. Desmond?

Mr. Element: Nothing. I just decided to take control. It seems that Doc Alchemy’s actions have caused him to almost give up hope completely this time, and that meant he couldn’t put up much of a fight against me. (Pause) Thanks for getting Doc Alchemy to give up control voluntarily, by the way. You have no idea how tough it is to win fights for control with that guy.

Hugo Strange: I take it you’re Mr. Desmond’s other alter?

Mr. Element: That’s right, Doc. You can call me Mr. Element.

Hugo Strange: Not Dr. Element?

Mr. Element: Nah. The other two got most of the brains, I’m afraid. It’s why I’m not as powerful as either one of ‘em. (Pause) Not that you’d know it from looking at Albert, of course. He’s got no idea how powerful he really is. He’s even more powerful than Doc Alchemy!

Hugo Strange: I suppose that that makes a certain amount of sense. Dr. Desmond is, after all, the personality from which the two of you split off. Perhaps that allows him to mainline the power, so to speak. (Pause) So, Mr. Element, why do you commit crimes in a silly costume?

Mr. Element: To get money and attention. Doc Alchemy could care less about that sort of thing, and Albert’s too much of a goody-good to admit that he wants either, so it’s up to me to make sure people remember us.

Hugo Strange: And the costume, was it inspired by the Flash?

Mr. Element: No. It was based on our fascination with elements. The mask was so that I could inhale pure oxygen; I used a carbon atom as my symbol because life has its basis in carbon-you get the idea. Albert’s the one who has an emotional connection to the Speedster.

Hugo Strange: Yes, yes. Dr. Alchemy said the same thing. (Pause) So, are either you or Dr. Alchemy Rogues, Mr. Element?

Mr. Element: No. Doc Alchemy and I both prefer to work solo. Besides, I think the Doc kind of freaks them out.

Hugo Strange: Are there any particular concerns you want to talk to me about, Mr. Element?

Mr. Element: Not really. Albert’s the one with the hang-ups.

Hugo Strange: In that case, I am going to bring this session to a close. I need some time to reflect on your case and how to best treat it. It is noticeably abnormal, and I will need to adjust my strategies accordingly.

#flash rogues #dr. hugo strange #mr. element #dr. alchemy #albert desmond #flash comics #batman comics #fanfic

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iphoenixrising · 3 years

Note

How do you think the boys will react to Dr Tim in fear gas (like full dose of it)??

Hi babe.

I’ve said it before, but ah. Be careful what you wish for, heh.

But no, really hasn’t poor Dr. Tim been through enough? Guy has already narrowly escaped collapsing bridges, been up close and personal with the Joker, fought off Scarecrow’s goons, AND was smack dab in the middle of an honest-to-God Arkham Riot.Now we’re going to just get him all up in some fear toxin? Good Lord, can the man get a break? He hasn’t had some smut in a while tbh. (winks over to chippon)

BUT.

WARNINGS FOR:

Mentions of child abuse

Mentions of gore, blood, grossness

You will be crying by the end. Guaranteed.

Extreme mental and emotional HURT

Tim’s fears are Jesus-Fucking-Christ level bad

You’ve been warned :D

He’s not even back to work yet after that ambulance wreck, still feels the road rash, pulled muscles, and residual owfuck from a little rough and tumble time at Arkham Asylum.

But, he’s in a convenience store for fuck’s sake because Jay wouldn’t let him have coffee this morning (nah, Sweets. Ya ain’t godda get up yet. Jus’ go back ta sleep wid’ me, yeah? We’re gonna stay here all warm n’ snug. Sshh. I gotcha, Timmy), and he’d managed to wrangle himself out of Jay’s arms when he woke up again, found out there’s only enough grounds for a shitty, weak pot, and Tim can’t even stand the thought of it.

Unfortunately, he gets a whole lot of random bad guys stopping in for those terrible hot dogs and road drinks on their way out of Gotham.

(Crane looks just as horrifying as he remembers from the hospital that one time, and Tim fervently hopes, hopes none of these henchmen recognize him in a beat-up hoodie and saggy sweatpants.)

What makes matters worse?

Crane isn’t even trying to be, you know, an evil villain.

There’s a put-upon sign behind the mask, and the fear gas comes out of nowhere, getting everyone in the store because the guy just doesn’t want to deal with civilians right this moment. He missed the break-out and decided to have a party all on his own, but he hasn’t even gotten the time to get the plan for his next evil scheme ready yet.

So he raises a hand and sprays a little gas to keep people from being lucid enough to call the cops and rat him out. He needs some time for a good getaway.

Tim, however, sees the inevitable coming and is frozen to the spot, can’t get his weak knees to unlock so he can at least try to duck. Instead, he gets it full in the face.

In a sweep, Crane sprays the small store as his henchmen drop a $20 in front of the coughing clerk and take off back out the door. Hotdogs and all.

Tim scrabbles for his phone, the noxious cloud makes his eyes water, his lungs fucking burn on the first choked, shocked breath. Even when he tries to hold his breath, he’s too terrified, knees going out just as he thumbs the screen behind his back.

“Timmy?” is tinny and far away while he tries to at least breath shallow, eyes dart to the door, his brain tuned into the whole get out and away before the inevitable happens.

He’s got to get to Jay, he’s got to get out of here and get to someone. If he starts talking while hepped up on fear gas, he could give away everyone’s secrets. He could tell random strangers who everyone really is, he could tell anyone their weaknesses, he could put everyone in danger.

Building blocks. If he can get to a lab, to Steph’s, back to his penthouse, anywhere not here, he can probably crack the building blocks of the toxin before it takes him over completely.

He doesn’t even hear, “Baby? Ya there? Didja butt dial again? Thought I tol’ ya ta stay in bed with me, yeah?”

Not with the door right there.

All he has to do is make his weak knees fucking work, ignore the burn in his lungs, his brain, his eyes teary with the cloud still thick around him, with the abrupt slam of his heart in his chest, with the sudden shadows in the niches that hadn’t been there before.

He just has to get to that fucking door. Has to be able to run.

Tim manages to mostly get there before the screaming starts.

Dick is working the day shift in the uniform when word Crane struck come over the wire.

Whenever it’s one of the big bads, he gets close enough to get the details before handily disappearing to slip into something a little more comfortable.

(He knows his ass is spectacular in the Nightwing suit.)

A boop from his pocket is his Batcomm notification, and he pops it in just as he dips into the men’s room with a plan to get out one of the usual windows.

“We’ve got Crane on the move, O. Might want to drop B a line.”

“Already aware, Boy Wonder. It’s more severe than you realize.” His phone goes off as Dick is shimmying out the window and up the building where he keeps a spare suit in a nice waterproof bag hidden in the overhang.

When he checks whatever oh shit is added to a potentially deadly scene, he’s got a text from Jay and a picture from O.

Surveillance footage from inside a convenience store where Crane evidently attacked some civilians. His breath catches when one of the faces turned away to try avoiding the gas is–

Timmy.

“Fuck,” is a little breathless with a very different kind of fear, and Dick immediately turns it up a notch, throwing his suit on and slapping a domino over his eyes. “What can you tell me, O?”

Quick check on what he’s got to work with.

“B and Rob are already in pursuit. Signal is approaching to assist. As far as we can tell, this is the only place Crane managed to hit. Everyone’s mostly been accounted for by GCPD.”

“I sense a but coming–” and he checks his phone two seconds before time to fly, and the text from Jay is something about Tim and screaming, and now he won’t pick up the phone...

“O?” Because dread strikes him in the chest.

“He’s the only civilian missing. He must have already taken off before the patrol car got there.”

“He was hit with fear gas, and he took off?”

The jumpline is already in his hand before he even hits the edge of the roof at a run. It’s go time.

So, it’s a race to find Tim, all doped up on fear toxin and probably tripping out of his mind in one of the most dangerous cities in America where people like the Joker and Two-Face might hold a grudge.

Jason was already suited up before he sent that text to Dickie, was outta there when the sounds came over the line, the familiar screams. It’s a particular flavor of terror spelled out that Timmy, was probably in trouble.

He hits up O with the deets while Nightwing hits the almost-night, making the first swing fucking count.

The world alters and shift around him, almost throwing him off his feet more than once.

He’s already completely lost his sense of direction, trying to keep his eyes closed in a last ditch effort to keep the hallucinations at bay.

(It’s just chemicals fucking with your brain. You can beat this. It’s not real. None of it is real. You know that. You know it’s just–

Brick under his fingertips, abrading the sensitive skin. Stumbles over a curb, and the loud whonkkkkk almost rips a surprised yip out of him. Tim cracks his eyes open, heart picking up when the yellow lights look like the porch light from the Johnson’s house–

– before they brought him back.

“He’s…a special child. He needs more than we can give him–”

“He can’t get along with the other children, so I’m afraid–”

“Well, you see. Mary is pregnant! It’s-it’s a miracle, and we like Tim, really we do–“

Tim grits his teeth, hears so much wahwahwah than anyone really talking, telling him to get the hell out of the street, what is he thinking?

But instead of a shadow of a motorist that had pretty much almost run him over, all he can see is Detective Gordon, way back when he’d been the one to come to the Drake’s manor and give him the news.

His mom and dad weren’t coming back, not ever.

“N-No,” he whimper screams, slamming his eyes closed, and takes off again. It’s a full tilt run, every person he meets with someone else’s face.

Michael McCannon, the guy that beat the shit out of his foster kids.

Lilly Wright, wanted the income from having a foster in her house, didn’t care if he went to school, if he slept, if he ate, if he was dead in a gutter because he fell off a roof running after–

He smacks his palms into brick, scraping his face, turns and there’s Tony Stark back when he’d first met. Intimidating and imposing, eyes narrowed in distaste.

He runs faster, only half recognizes the buildings as he goes. He knocks into someone, eats face in an alley, panting and sweating, eyes full of tears, brain on fucking fire.

“Drake!” Hissed from the shadows, the darkness parting for red, gold, and green.

But it’s too much red, too much red.

“N-no, nonono,” and now he’s outright sobbing, scrabbling to his feet because Dami, Dami, is in a ragged, torn tunic, skin broken and blood fucking pouring out of him.

He’s got both hands on the vigilante, brain failing him, spitting out the mortality rate of being run the fuck through.

“No, no, no Dami, Dami,” he’s pressing on the worst wound, tears streaming down his face, babbling incoherently, apologizing, begging this kid, the little brother he should have had, not to fucking die and leave him too.

Robin, laying where the doctor had apparently thrown him, is staring up in shock, hands on Drake’s forearms where he’s pressing at some imaginary wound.

“Don’t die, Dami. Stay with me! Please stay with me!” Is fairly screamed in the cold night.

And Robin catches his breath at this, this, as one of Drake’s worst fears.

“D-Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you. I-I can’t lose you, too.” Tim weeps, pulling both hands back, staring down at what must see as blood and viscera.

“I am sorry, Timothy,” Robin breathes out hoarsely, frees a hand to pull back, teeth clenched against what he’s about to do, and punches their doctor with real intent.

As he hopes, Tim goes down like a stone, unconscious on the dirty ground, tears still on his face from terror and grief.

In a breath, Robin is on his feet, kneeling over Drake, tapping the comm in his ear. “Hood, N, Father. I have located him. He has been…affected. I am uncertain if the anti-toxin in my belt would do further harm, so I have not administered it as of yet.”

“Rob,” Hood’s response is immediate, “Big Wing’s with Daddy Bat takin’ care a’ the last of ‘em. I’m headin’ atcha now.”

“Meet me at the Black Bird. Hurry,” Robin cuts off, and gently, oh so gently for his normal, lifts Tim’s upper body against his chest, points a gauntlet at the roof to fire the jump line, reel them both in.

At sixteen, the youngest vigilante has nearly outgrown the doctor, and has no trouble lifting Tim up to carry him across the roof, occasionally looking down to make sure Tim is still out.

His own vehicle, the Black Bird, is hidden close to a safe house for the Bats. Balancing Tim in his arms, he taps his utility belt, the container hiding the car folding away.

Hood is on the ground, immediately takes Timmy from Rob, looking at the scrapes on his face.

“In, in!” Robin snaps, shooing Hood in the back with their Doctor. “We must get him to the Cave immediately.”

He dives in the driver’s seat, revving the engine fast, tapping his mask for the whiteouts to slide up. He takes in the immediate area with a glance, and peels out into the night.

Jay deactivates the helmet, tosses it in the front seat, wraps both arms around Timmy in his lap, tapping the comm to listen up at Dickie and B on clean-up whiles he winds up to get all the deets outta the Demon.

“Tell it ta me straight, Lil’ D. How bad wassit?”

He’s looking in the rearview because the kid’s eyes always give him away.

He ain’t prepared to see the Demon blinking rapidly, jaw clenched tight. “He is fully effected. Hallucinations, inability to discern outside voices. I called to him. He was not able to hear me. See me, yes, but he believed I was…dying. He attempted to treat me, asked me not to…”

Robin makes a hard right turn, shoves his foot against the pedal to drift it. He shoves in the clutch, shifts the gears, biting down on his lower lip (“Don’t leave me, I can’t lose you.”).

He evens out, hitting the Robert Kane Bridge to take them out of Gotham proper and closer to the Manor.

“Dames?” Jay makes it soft because the kid is obviously shook.

Robin pushes the car to 105 mph to sail over the bridge.

“His fear was he would be unable to save me. The wound…he believed the wound made by Hush would kill me yet again, I believe.”

Jason Todd breathes in sharply, freeing up a hand to fit at the back of Rob’s neck, make circles with his thumb.

“Sorry that mighta brought ya back.” His tone is low with sympathy, empathy.

And for a moment, Damian Wayne, not Robin, leans back into that hand, lets it ground him while the night flies by the window, while he watches the darkness for everything while he downshifts, when the road starts getting less defined further out of the city they go.

“It is not that,” Damian admits, “one day, one of us, perhaps all of us, will not return. Nothing he can do will prevent that.”

“I know, Baby Bat. Let’s hope it ain’t any day soon, you feel me?” And Jay, tries to keep it gentle, tries to keep the circles going, tries to be easy about it so Baby Bat won’t try ta pull away, put it all back inna box to fester.

“Agreed. However, do not be surprised if he comes to fighting. We must monitor his vitals closely if this toxin is similar to the last batch.”

“I gotcha. S’all right, we’re gonna take care of him, ain’t we?”

Damian makes an affirmative noise and leans forward out of Jay’s grip, pressing the gas, then gearing back up.

Tim comes to as the restraints are tightened, Alfred Pennyworth securing several sticky discs to his chest, and a pulse oximeter to his finger.

“We’ll see you soon, Son. Be a good boy while we’re gone.”

Makes his eye fly open wide, his heart slam painfully against his rib cage, his arms jerk where his wrists are restrained.

“Boys,” a cultured voice calls the second his eyes open, but Tim can’t see anything, not with his heart in his throat, not with his Dad’s voice ghosting out after over a decade and a half.

When he glances over, horrified at the tall figure coming closer, hands raised up in surrender, and his eyes were empty, gorey sockets, black sludge from the empty cavity. Purple lips and half-rotting flesh, the last clothes he’d seen his father wearing, his best suit, the one he’d wear to Drake Industries on the stints they were home and Dad worked in the office.

Tatters and grave dirt, bone peeking out from shriveled flesh…

“Dad,” is a broken, hoarse croak, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I tried. I tried to be good,” and the closer his dead, decaying Father gets, the more he fights whatever is keeping him still, won’t let him run for his own fucking sanity, “I tried! I tried and you still didn’t come home! It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t–!”

He chokes, gags because Dad is right by the bedside, and now Tim can see the inside of his black mouth, the tongue putrid and pale without blood, and the smell–

He’s probably screaming, even if he can’t hear himself.

Something is strapped over his face, and he fights it, knows it’s a plastic mask, pumping something into his lungs, just like the fear toxin.

A turn of the head, and it’s the reversal of his first meeting with-with

The Joker.

Harley isn’t on the table bleeding out this time. It’s the two of them standing over him, a huge needle full of green sludge right by the Joker’s shoulder, right next to his horrifically sick smile.

He’s wearing a mock head lamp and white coat, Tim’s own badge dangling from his pocket. He turns to the smaller figure of Harley, the nurse sidekick with a frightening set of tools. The orbitoclast is brown with old blood and brain matter, the leucotome wire is rusty, the plunger to send that wire into his brain almost black with old gore.

And he fucking chokes.

“Hold on to those, Nurse. If my wonderful formula doesn’t do the trick, then we’ll have options! Huh, huh, huh,” and the bastard leans into him, that sickening smile, those wide, lucid eyes.

“He’s going to be our good boy, one way or the other, isn’t he?” And the dark growl of it, the promise is what makes him start screaming again.

Hands on his straining arms, a big body right by the bed when he turns, flinches away as far as the hold could let him.

“Oh no. No no no,” is a whimper, a plea, “I didn’t say anything to anyone, Mr. Johnson, I swear. I didn’t tell anyone anything.”

The grip on his arms becomes bruising, painful, terrifying all over again.

Tim clamps down, remembers the beatings hadn’t been as bad if he could keep quiet.

“Jesus Christ, you’re such a little shit.”

It’s Mr. Johnson’s words, but Jason’s voice.

“You need a good ass beaten’, kid. That’ll straighten you right out. That’s what all you fuckers need. Lucky for you I don’t mind making sure you keep on the straight and narrow.”

He doesn’t realize he’s chanting, “don’thitme, don’tdon’tdon’t, please please, don’t,” while Mr. Johnson backs off, the old recriminations and reprimands rolling right out in Jay’s smooth baritone.

He’s outright sobbing, arms trembling above his head where he’s trapped, trapped. He can’t move, he can’t run, he can’t hide, he can’t–

And a blink takes him to the same fire escape outside his penthouse where he��d found Nightwing bleeding out, pulse already weakening, breathing shallow–

“What–“

The whiteouts on that domino are up so he can see Nightwing’s blue eyes flutter open weakly, can see the hand move gingerly to the bleeding wound on his abdomen.

“I can help you,” he yells out, hoping to make those eyes look at him, to get the vigilante to come to him, “I can save you, but you’ve got to get here.” This time his hands, his arms, his whole body is straining to get free, to reach the vigilante that needs him, that’s dying on him while he fucking watches.

The vigilante half-smiles at him, finger stripes more dark than blue, and his head goes back, visibly slumping.

“Nightwing, Nightwing, look at me! Open your eyes!” He knows he’s begging, fighting, but there’s bands around his chest, around his wrists, his ankles and thighs.

“I need, I need sutures, gloves, blood bag, and-and, I need, I need–“ but Nightwing’s head flops and his chest stutters, “LOOK AT ME! You can’t die like this, you can’t. I’m right here, I can save you!”

He sobs out loud, whole body jerking to get free.

“Ssshhh, baby doll, ssshhh,” makes him open his eyes even though he can barely see through the tears streaming down his face, his sobbing, his heart pounding copper in the back of his throat.

And there’s Jay, lying on his chest, all soft and sweet, with a post-sex grin. He’s too beautiful to be real.

“Jay?” He croaks.

“Yeah,” all soft and sweet.

Until he tilts his head, and the horrific smile below his chin leaks rich red down his throat.

“J-Jay?!” His eyes go wide and horrified because there’s his vigilante boyfriend bleeding out all over his chest, far gone enough to be silly and loopy with blood loss.

“S’okay, yeah? When s’time, s’time. Don’t gotta be sad about it, Timmy.”

“N-No, no, put-Jay, listen to me, put pressure on it, okay? Put both hands and press down. You-you’re loosing too much blood. I need you to–“

“That ain’t what’s happening here, Timmers.” Slurry and low, Jay’s face getting pale, eyes fluttering. “Like I tol’ ya b’fore. One day…one day I ain’t gonna come back. S’ just gonna be my time.”

And Tim’s shirt is wet with it, Jay’s blood staining him, soaking through his clothes, the weight of his big body heavier as his strength goes, as his eyes get dimmer, the jade flecks all but gone.

“You can’t. Jay, babe, you can’t. You have to fight. Please fight,” his hands are straining, but he’s so tired, weak, isn’t strong enough to get to them, to save them from their fates. "I don't... I can't be the last one left standing again. I can't. Please, fight. Please!"

'"Nah, Baby. Small right now. Love ya. Love ya s'much."

"I love you too," he sobs, can't breathe, can't think.

(He’s never been strong enough, has he? He’s not strong enough to be what they need.)

He finally can’t fight anymore, just stays pinned under Jay’s weakening body to cry and shake apart.

“Do something,” Dick yells, tears running down his face where he’s pinning Tim’s legs down so he stops hurting himself fighting the restraints.

Alfred, eyes narrow and wet-looking, huffs and turns on his heel abruptly. He fishes out supplies from the cabinet, uses a clean hypodermic to puncture the sedative.

Master Jason is staring up at Master Tim’s face, trying to be that boy in the Robin cape from all those years ago. Trying to be strong in the face of such horrors.

“Master Bruce, account for general anesthesia,” Alfred calls briskly and injects carefully into the IV.

“Understood,” the quickly working vigilante calls back from the lab, running the number a second time, darting looks at his children doing one of the hardest jobs he’s ever asked them to do.

He can tell by how Damian’s shoulders are shaking, Dick is opening crying against Tim’s hip, Jay’s lower lip trembling, eyes wet where he’s keeping Tim’s forearms pinned around the IV in his arm.

He add the variables, taking deep breaths, makes mental notes all over the place to look into Tim’s past foster parents.

Johnson. Right.

And the hardened bat can’t say his heart isn’t thundering in his throat watching Tim’s struggle, scream, cry out in grief, trying to use his reasoning and logic, having the fucking Joker of all people as part of his perpetual nightmares…

Bruce takes a calming breath, forces himself to be the Bat while he aches for the kids.

Twelve hours later, he comes to somewhere not his Penthouse or Dick’s apartment.

It’s chilly wherever he is, but for some reason his whole body just aches, hurts like he’d been in another damn car wreck or something. It’s too much effort to lift his head and look around, not when he’s pretty sure he’s in Dick’s lap, recognizes the smell of Dick’s jugular.

He hums a little, glad someone at least gave him a blanket because he’s at least mostly warm. His nose is pretty cold, but he just snuggles into Dick’s neck and sighs.

He tries to raise his knees to fold in, get warmer, but his heels bump into legs, and cracking his eyes open, he realizes Jay is sitting by Dick on the floor of the Cave, Tim laying over their laps.

He’s got a cotton ball taped to the inside of his forearm, and no idea why. He blinks a few times, lifts up enough to see Dami on Jay’s other side, head nudged against Jay’s shoulder. A hand is still on Tim’s ankle.

The sudden need to go to the bathroom drives him from their huddle on the cold floor, but at least he spreads the blanket out over them after he manages to pull out of their arms without waking them.

From their faces and expressions, whatever he isn’t immediately remembering couldn’t have been good.

But first, bathroom. Then, maybe coffee? Because that? Would be absolutely stellar at this juncture. Maybe some ibuprofen.

Luckily, there’s swanky digs in the Bat Cave, a set of lockers, showers, nice hot tub for long soaks after a night of kicking bad guy ass.

All the vigilante amenities.

He’s bleary and sore, staggering to the bathroom, noting B is asleep on the big computer, and Alfred sitting back in another chair, tea cup and saucer on the hard drive next to him.

He smiles a little, wonders if he can find a few more blankets somewhere.

A glance in the mirror as he was washing his hands shows him a bunch of road rash city. Man, he must have been caught up in the middle of something again.

Seriously.

He splashes cold water on his face, works out the low throbbing ache of his bandaged wrists.

He’s shuffling back, thinking about just waking everyone the hell up to send people to bed, like themselves because his ass is numb, and there’s warm beds upstairs. When there’s pounding footsteps, skitters, and slides, whoosh of air, and Dick is right there up in his face, panting like he’d just sprinted all the way across the Cave in a quick hurry.

“Timmy?!”

He blinks up, still bleary about everything, his throat and voice wrecked as fuck, “hey honey. How was your night fighting shitty bad guys?”

He has no idea why Dick’s expression crumples, his eyes getting teary out of nowhere. He’s not prepared for Dick to start crying, to see his beautiful boyfriend hold a hand over his eyes and break down.

“Dick? Dick?”

He goes from holding himself, shuddering with the cold and ache in his bones, to up in Dick’s face, hand on his shoulder, looking for some injury, something to tell him how to help–

But Dick takes a few shuddering breaths under his hand, and Tim just wriggles his arms around Dick’s chest to hold on for a few long seconds before he gets full-on octopus hold right around his everything.

(Okay, that’s a relief.)

“…was it bad?” He asks softly, making circles with his palms as wide as Dick’s hold will let him.

“Y-Yes. It was bad. You don’t remember?” Dick sniffles against the side of his head, rocking them both gently.

“Not yet.” He shrugs an unconcerned shoulder. As someone who’s had a concussion (okay, okay, concussions), and has worked in the medical field in one of the most dangerous cities on the fucking planet, he knows there are plenty of bad guys with chemical weapons that don’t always leave short term memories in tact.

Dick shakes a little and holds him tighter.

“Fuckfuckfuck. Didja find 'im??!” As Jay rounds the corner and almost slams right into them.

He skids to a stop as Dick swiftly shifts them around out of the way. Jay doesn’t do anything to dislodge Dick’s grip, but palms the sides of Tim’s face, his eyes a hard, icy blue.

“Hey, Sweets, hey,” low in a dark way, not the usual, fun dark way. Tim has a strike of fear, takes stock of himself, of Dick, of Jay, wonders who else in the Cave might be hurt! That’s why they’re here. Someone got hurt coming after his ass, didn’t they?

“Dami? B?” He interrupts, eyes going from Jay to Dick and back.

“Fine, everyone’s fine,” is curt, short with him in a way that doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t have enough evidence.

“O-kay. You both are fine. B and Dami are fine. Alfred?”

Over his head, his boyfriends exchange a look that is really starting to worry him.

But the next twelve hours are virtually impossible to escape. The sordid details come out once Tim remembers being in that convenience store. He gets snatches of half-lucid memories, probably never will remember the entire things. The brain is the most fascinating part of the body for a reason, not only as the control center, but also as the decision-maker on what things to blot out to protect itself.

By the time Dami starts out, they’ve migrated up to Wayne Manor, parted ways to shower and wash off the night. Dick and Jay bracketing him in, being absurdly gentle, consistent soft touches, fingers wrapping around his, hands on his back, kisses pressed into his hair.

There’s some scrapes on his forearms along with the ones on his face, washed gingerly in the shower where he finally feels warm again. Alfred leaves a special bled of his healing goop and has set out pajamas for all of them before he left, requesting them to please come have breakfast.

Tim’s stomach rumbles while they’re getting dressed, and he’s pretty much picked up, and carried down the massive staircase.

(Ugh, this is after the bridge fiasco all over again.)

But the end result: food and coffee in Wayne Manor, so bonus?

Dami is looking at him like a kicked puppy. A perpetual pissed off kicked puppy, but he tilts his head to the side inquiringly, raising his eyebrows in invitation.

“I found you almost at Sheldon Park,” Dami starts softly, but at least everyone’s eaten first.

He flinches a little when Bruce tells him what he’d said about his Dad. When Alfred tells him about the Joker and Harley Quinn either going to inject him with some crazy sauce or lobotomize him.

(Yup. Pretty horrifying either way.)

Dami tells him about seeing everyone die around him while Dick has a firm hand on his knee under the table, their chairs closer together than necessary. Jason gives no shits keeping his fingers wrapped up tight, squeezing occasionally. Alfred keeps the mug in his free hand full, stands just by Dick’s other shoulder.

“I mean,” he finally starts after everything is out in the open, “it’s literally a toxin that fucks with your brain chemistry. Not shocking I’d see pretty awful things. I see awful things...a lot, so,” he shrugs a little helplessly in the face of the whole family looking utter raw and split open. “I...I’m...sorry, really sorry I worried everyone. I’ll try to stop getting into trouble so much, you know? But, um. It is Gotham.”

The family crowds around him, bringing in rank around the table.

And if he doesn’t have to stay at the Manor for the next week, geeze, and get coddled as fuck by the Batfamily, and get picked up from Mercy General every. single. night. for a while, and get wrapped up against two incredible vigilantes that whisper soft things against his throat, his ear, his mouth, his, well, his everything.

If he doesn’t get Bruce herding him into the study where the fire is burning, and it seems like the Batman is the most patient person ever to let him–let him talk about some of those old pains when he was in the system.

If Alfred literally can not make him eat enough food to be satisfied. Ever. And gives him a side-eye when he starts to push away a plate that has even a bite left.

(Alfred pizza is god-level, and you’ll never convince him otherwise. But if he eats anymore, he’s going to die. Please stop killing him with your tasty love.)

If Dami doesn’t make him watch NatGeo Wild with popcorn and boxes of candy, then grudgingly plays Mario Kart with him until Rainbow Road is like theirs. No questions asked.

If he finally doesn’t go back to his penthouse, breathes in the familiar smells, gets absolutely destroyed in the Best. Possible. Ways for the next five straight hours. If he isn’t a boneless pile of I can’t possibly come again, for the next week at least.

If Baby Bird, Timmers, Sweets, Timmy, and Baby aren’t wrapped around him with arms and sweet kisses pressed to his forehead and hair every time he leaves for work or they leave for patrol.

If he was before this, in the slightest bit uncertain he belongs with them, as part of their family–

–he sure as hell knows better now.

At least that’s one less thing to be afraid of.

Note:

In Tim’s fear fueled delusion, the Joker is Alfred, Harley is Dami holding equipment to treat him. His dad was really B taking the blood samples from Alfred to analyze. He’s horrified once he realizes what Tim is seeing.

Mr. Johnson, the abusive foster parent is Jay, which Tim kind of associates because of the accent.

Dying Nightwing is Dick bent over to hold his legs down, and the next switch is really Jay laying over him upper body to keep him from hurting himself more.

(Congrats for making it to the end. *Hands tissue*)

#winter answers #doctor!tim #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #read at your own risk #read the warnings #hurt/comfort #fear gas #holy shit tim #you will cry #but it's worth it #my fic #my writing #dickjaytim #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #cuddle tf out of our boy #bruce wayne

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gothic-safari-clown · 3 years

Text

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 27: With Friends Like These

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Word count: 1556

Sorry it’s been so long! I’m a full time employee again, so it’s been hard to find the time to actually sit down and work on anything. Plus, we’re getting to the end of TMPOtB! Make sure to keep an eye out for the sequel Why I Do What I Do, and I hope you enjoy!

It had been four weeks. Two since ex-warden Sharpe had disappointed them. Regular police had begun to avoid them, and they had amassed a new following of goons. Even found a semi-permanent hideout.

Though, for all of their success, Jonathan had begun to sink lower and lower into himself. In fact, more and more often, he preferred to let Scarecrow be in charge. The only sure-fire way to keep him around for more than two hours together was when more toxin needed to be made.

At first, Scarecrow had been thrilled to be in charge. He had gotten quite a kick from going on sprees, terrorizing the public, especially if it might help them find Elianna. Jonathan wanted to find her for sentimental reasons, but Scarecrow?

Scarecrow wanted her back for possessive reasons. But, if he thought about it, he supposed the history behind their motivations was the same—companionship, kindness, loyalty. Jonathan seemed to crave it, but only from her.

But the straw man felt that it was something they were entitled to after all those years of consistency from her. Oh, he cared for her wellbeing, sure, but only because no one else would give them anything. As such, no one would ever be allowed to lay a hand on her again. But, more than anything, he craved attention, and despite Jonathan's endless warnings not to give it to him, El had always satisfied that need with a strange sense of fulfillment. The world owed them something, and she was the only person who would give them anything.

She was theirs.

So, when after weeks of rampage and fearmongering had yielded no results, Scarecrow found himself in a similar stupor to Jonathan, although it affected him differently. He seemed forever bored, irritated, and volatile.

It wasn't just Jonathan and Scarecrow who were affected by Elianna's absence either. The goons that had flocked to them (some out of fear, some out of necessity, some out of ambition) had very quickly come to regret the decision. Violent outbursts were often expected, and the men had had to take measures in order to keep themselves out of the line of fire.

Regardless, it was becoming more clear day by day that the longer El remained unaccounted for, nobody would last very long.

So when one day a young blonde tentatively approached the base of operations, folder in hand, asking for "doctah Crane," claiming to have an idea for where to find the elusive woman, Axel was more than happy to tell his men to stand down and let her through.

"He's upstairs, but it ain't the doctor, so don't call him that," he advised. "I'll take you up and stay in the room with you, but you gotta just give him the file and get out." The blonde nodded, a sad look on her face. "Did you know him before?"

"Yeah. We worked together at the Asylum. We weren't friendly or nothin', but he was always polite. I was—am, friends with El. I want her back too, so I started askin' my friends from med school to keep an eye out. So when I got this, I thought the best way to get her back was to bring it here." Axel nodded.

"Alright, well let me take a look. If it doesn't look good to him, he's gonna get angry and that won't be good for any of us." The blonde nodded and handed over the folder with the file inside.

Some of the information had been redacted (for legal reasons, no doubt) but as Axel scanned the paper, he felt a weight being slowly lifted.

Patient name [REDACTED]. Female, 30 years old, red hair, green eyes. Transferred to [REDACTED] from Gotham County General. Admitted with an unknown substance present which affected brain function. Severe injuries to full body. The patient was detoxed and consented to a medically-induced coma in order to treat mild trauma to the brain.

Notes: Patient has made a swift recovery, but will likely be admitted to psych. Demonstates an unhealthy obsession with "scarecrow," which has caused multiple outbursts against personnel.

The name of whoever had provided this information had been blacked out, but it seemed likely that this information was what they had been looking for. Looking up from the file, Axel was met with big blue eyes staring up at him hopefully.

"Alright, this looks good," he sighed, and the blonde was visibly relieved. "Come on, you should be the one to give this to him," he handed back the folder and jerked his head for her to follow. "You know where she's at, right? That information was taken out." She bobbed her head, anxiously rubbing her thumb over the spine of her folder.

"Yeah, the girl that sent this to me had her place of work listed on her Facebook."

"Good."

The pair walked together through the previously abandoned building, up two flights of stairs and down a series of halls.

"Do you all live here?" The young doctor asked, gazing around the environment as they walked.

"Sort of. All of us take shifts staying in groups here to keep trespassers out. The big man," here, Axel pointed to the door at the end of the hallway as they approached, "has a place in the Narrows so that he doesn't have to stay if he doesn't want. Between the two of us, it's a much better gig when he's not around." She nodded in agreement. Based on the news reports, that was to be expected.

Reaching the door, Axel held up a finger for the woman to wait as he knocked. "Boss? There's a woman here with some information. I looked it over, I think it's her." It was silent on the other side of the door for a moment before a muffled voice told them to come in.

Axel opened the door with a pointed look at the woman, letting her enter first.

The man sitting at the desk inside certainly looked like Jonathan, but it didn't take Harley long to notice the changes in him. Jonathan always kept himself clean-shaven and carried himself with an air of uprightness. Scarecrow didn't seem to share those concerns. Stubble had been allowed to grow along his jaw, and he was slouched into his chair like he was bored.

When he caught sight of her, there was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes before a lackluster grin broke over his face. "Doctor Quinzel, I don't think we've been formally introduced." The sentence was accompanied by what was surely meant to be an intimidating chuckle. He just didn't have the energy.

"Scarecrow," she greeted, unable to help the pity that crept into her heart. "I...I guess I'll just get right down to business. I know you're looking for El, and you haven't been able to find her in the city, so I reached out to some people that I know who work in neighboring cities, and I think I found her." She stepped forward, folder outstretched for him to take.

He frowned, skeptical of the information, but took the folio anyway with a telling look at Axel: if this isn't her, you're the one to face the consequences.

But scanning the memo through narrowed eyes, his attitude slowly changed. Suddenly, there was no way that it wasn't her, and a sudden urgency took over everything as he stood.

"Where." Not a question, a demand. Harley quickly gave him the city and hospital, startled by the abrupt turnaround. "Good," seeming to briefly forget that she was even there, he turned to Axel with a sense of urgency. "Get our best boys ready, we're going now." The thug nodded and began to pull Harley out of the room before the voice stopped them again. "Harley," it barked, and the blonde's head swiveled to look at him again. "You know what's going to happen to that hospital. To your friend that works there."

"Yes, I do." She had known from the beginning. It had been so many years since she had even thought about the other woman, and they hadn't been close to begin with. To be perfectly honest, Harley wasn't even sure if she had ever liked her to begin with.

It made it easier to make this decision, although realizing that she even could make that decision had been surprising.

Scarecrow seemed to understand and went back to studying the file further, leaving the pair to leave the room, closing the door behind them.

"You did good, doc," Axel assured the blonde as they retreated down the hall. "But if it isn't her somehow..."

"I know," Harley gulped. She had seen plenty on the news of what happened to people who let Scarecrow down in this particular search.

Sensing the woman's apprehension, Axel spoke again. "I don't think you have anything to worry about. Who else could that be, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." She nodded. "I'm gonna get outta your hair now. Good luck, all of you. bring her home, yeah?"

"You got it, doc."

With that, Harley left and Axel went about rounding up the troops. He wasn't exactly looking forward to the havoc they were about to wreck upon the unsuspecting hospital, but ultimately having El back would be best for everyone involved.

For everyone's sake, it'd better be our girl.

#batman begins #Nolanverse #Jonathan Crane #jonathan crane fic #jonathan crane x ofc #Elianna Montgomery #scarecrow #scarecrow fanfic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy scarecrow #the mind's power over the body #attraction to the insane series #multi chapter fic #slight au #tmpotb chapter 27

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roguish-gallery · 4 years

Note

I've got a good one! What would Jon, Jervis, and Edward do if they found out a close friend of theirs (maybe bordering on crush) hadn't been visiting them in Arkham lately because they'd been getting progressively sicker and sicker--and it being Gotham and all--they can't afford to go to a doctor to get their medical issue seen to?

This actually became a lot less angsty and sad then I was expecting lol. Hope you still enjoy it, though!

Dork Squad + Finding Out their Friend is Extremely Sick

Jonathan

He insists that he’s above these mundane visits, but once his friend stops coming… he notices.

He breaks out of Arkham for unrelated reasons, but his friend’s apartment is the first place he visits. He finds them sick in bed and he’s just. Uh. what.

Seriously, what were they thinking??? He has enough messes he has to clean up without having to worry about his… friend… too.

He’ll help, though- he’s taught broke college students for long enough to know places that can provide some assistance.

Assuming they can still walk, he drives them to the hospital, and waits in the car while they get treated. After that, he picks up some soup, tea, applesauce, Gatorade, and jell-o (the ultimate sick foods) and sends them to bed.

“Don’t worry about the money, I can handle it.”

They get a text every morning from Jonathan asking- no- threatening them to take their medication. He’ll occasionally drop by to check on them and nag at them for getting out of bed, but the relief in his face is pretty obvious.

Eddie

Of course he paid attention when the visits stopped. That’s one less willing ear Edward can talk into and he’s gonna find out why.

He breaks out and finds out that… well… the reason he hasn’t been visited by his friend is because they’re too sick to even get up. And they’re only getting worse.

Surprisingly, he’s actually very sympathetic. He’s been there before. The difference now though, is that he’s not going to let them suffer alone like he’s had to.

Again, “don’t worry about paying for the medical bill... but don’t ask where the money came from, either.”

Once they get released and put in bed rest, In lieu of checking on his friend like a normal fucking person he sends them selfies and if they don’t compliment how handsome he is RIGHT NOEEEWWW he looks he’s gonna assume his friend is dying and he drives over to their place to “chew them out”. He also brought more tylenol, soup, and saltines but that HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS AT ALL. He’s only here to chew his pal out and he’s totally wasn’t worried about them or anything like that.

I hope this friend likes crosswords, Rubik’s cubes, and unreleased video games that have been ripped out from god knows where on the web because Edward literally brings all of those over to keep them busy while they recover

Jervis

He notices the steep lack of visits, and he’s extremely worried.

He’s devastated when he sees how much his friend has wasted away. He’s got to do something! Anything!

He’s going to personally see to it that they get better, even if he has to mind control every doctor in the fucking hospital to make it happen.

Fortunately, it never comes to that- he takes them to the hospital and he OBVIOUSLY can’t come in with them but he makes sure that the bill gets paid off… one way or another.

Once his friend gets sent home, Jerv insists that he should stick around to help them get back into their feet and they’re too sick to wave him off.

It proooooobably isn’t the best thing to eat when you’re recovering from an illness, but Jervis bakes literally anything he can think of to cheer his friend up. Cookies, cake, Shepherd’s pie (see? He can cook more than just sweets) the works. Jervis’s rule of thumb for good sickness foods is that as long as it’s hot, it’ll help you feel better.

#edward nygma #jonathan crane #jervis tetch #dc headcanon #headcanons

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 9

"Take Me Instead"

Ao3

Warnings: canon typical violence, major injury

-o-o-o-o-

"Well, look what the bat dragged in."

Dick resisted a wince as his back was practically stabbed with the barrel end of an assault rifle. He twisted his wrists behind his back, locked there by his own cuffs. Not for the first time, Dick felt a ping of hatred for Bruce's constant paranoia. Plans for everything, even themselves. Therefore: cuffs are batproof.

And that wasn't all, Duke kneeled beside him in the exact same situation. On his knees, guns aimed point-blank, meaty hands on his shoulders to keep him down as none other than Jonathan Crane, Scarecrow, in his full get-up approached his new hostages.

This definitely won't be good. Dick didn't know how long he could last. Crane's knack for dramatics and monologues were ear-bleedingly boring on the best of days. Dick already had a headache thanks to the lucky shot one of Crane's children-of-the-pumpkin-patch-lackeys got on him with the back of their gun. Hey, sometimes even Nightwing accidentally got hit. He's human.

Honestly, Dick wasn't upset about being caught. Hell, he wasn't even that worried to see Scarecrow walz towards them with his dramatic scythe dragging on the floor behind him. Not even the flashing red lights of the lab they were currently in and the intruder alarms blaring put him on edge. What sent an ice cold shard of worry straight into his chest cavity was that Duke was caught also because of Dick's initial mistake.

Duke. The guy who was still in training. Who was just barely figuring out his meta abilities. Who could fight like a bat out of hell but who has never faced Scarecrow. Duke probably didn't know what to expect with this encounter, and judging by the glances Dick could feel being shot his way by his newest brother, Duke was expecting Dick to come up with something more productive than twisting his hands in his own cuffs again.

This was Dick's fault. He was the one who suggested Duke came with him to check out the labs built near the Fashion District. It's primary purpose was to research medicine for the brain. Things to help seizures, depression, etcetera. Which, of course, made it a prime possible target for Scarecrow whenever the villain managed to escape from Arkham.

The thing was, these labs were already raided for it's chemicals the last time Crane escaped. Normally, the guy was a little smarter than to go to the same supply of chemicals for his fear toxin twice. Dick took Duke for this reason, because it was good to learn how Scarecrow worked before actually facing him. That, and it needed to be checked anyway. He didn't actually expect Crane to be here, let alone in full get up.

It must have been a trap.

Well. Judging by the outcome of the circumstances, it most definitely was a trap. Crane was up to something. Something more than sending the mass population of Gotham into a fear crazed frenzy.

Crane stopped in front of his two captives, flicking his scythe around his body with the smoothness of silk. Dick let his neck relax as the scythes blade went under his chin to lift his head. It was just a fear tactic. One that Dick wasn't falling for. Crane was using the outside of the blade where it was dulled. If he was using the inside, then Dick might have been a little on edge.

Get it?

He stared right into the stitched eyeholes of Crane's hood. Clenched his fists behind his back. "What's up, Crane?" Dick kept his voice light and level; he even let a smile curve his lips as he spoke. The best thing you could do while dealing with Crane was remain calm and not show the slightest sign of fear. Hurt his ego. Make him sloppy.

It didn't seem to immediately rub Crane the wrong way though. He didn't even tense. "Well, you see, I've seemed to have come across two little birdies with their little wings tied-" Ugh. Dick wanted to barf- "and now I have to decide what to do about them."

"Ah you know," Dick replied in a sing-song tone. "Could just leave us alone. Birds tend to take care of themselves."

"Hmm, I suppose." The scythe was removed from under Dick's chin, but Dick kept eye contact as Crane stepped away. "After all, everyone knows it's bad luck to keep two two birdies locked up together."

Dick really wished that Gotham's Rogues would quit it with the theatrical flair. It almost made Dick miss Blüdhaven where everything was straight to the point. The amount of monologues Dick had heard from spending the last two days alone visiting the manor could fill a novel. And at least no one in the ‘Haven called him a bird.

"So I guess the only thing for you to do is to let us go." Dick sighed, like he was upset about it. Crane twitched and Dick couldn't help a confident smirk. "Unless you want the big bad bat to drag you back to Arkham so early into your escape. Your lackeys got lucky with us tonight, but do you really think you can take the entire clan with what you have now?"

Crane remained silent for a moment, and Dick could practically sense Duke resisting twitching or saying anything. Which was good. Duke’s being smart. Letting the guy who's fought Crane for almost as long as Robin had existed do the talking. Dick knew how Scarecrow ticked. In the end, it was always about fear. If his victims weren’t afraid then he'd get bored. Sure, he'll also most likely use Fear Toxin, but it was obvious Crane was planning something. He normally resisted throwing around Fear Toxin willy nilly. If he had a plan, the toxin was put away until he really needed it.

"Actually, little bird," Crane finally said, his voice deepening almost an octave. "I could have use of you. You see, I'm an expert at my craft, yet you bats always seem to not be afraid. Even when the world is trembling in terror, you bats hold strong. I don't understand it. I need to study this. Make a toxin that's impossible to resist."

"It's called an antitoxin," Dick scoffed. "No matter how many times you change the formula it's still always the base formula. Every hospital in Gotham had loads of the antitoxin."

Suddenly, Scarecrow was snarling, right up in Dick's face. Dick heard Duke swear under his breath, but Crane didn't seem to notice. He was too focused on staring through those threaded eye sockets right into Nightwing's milky lenses with narrowed, cold brown irises.

"No," Crane hissed, "you bats have something different. You get scared, but never afraid. I've seen you cry and scream on the ground, writhing in your own terror, but you always- always stand back up. I'm tired of making formula after formula to guess what finally takes you down for good. I need a subject. I need a bat to test on instead of random people in the street."

Dick immediately felt himself tense, but he tried not to show it on his face.

Okay. So Crane wants a human lab rat now. But not any human, a member of the very group of people he's never been able to truly defeat.

Okay.

So this was definitely turning out badly.

"Sorry, Jonathan, Sig and I are actually completely booked today. How bout next week? I think I can squeeze you in for, , hmm, let's say, next Tuesday?"

Scarecrow paused, tilted his head, then Dick knew he made a mistake.

"Ah yes, the Signal." Crane turned towards the yellow clad hero and Dick was moving forward before he even registered that hands tightening on his shoulders, keeping him forced down to his knees as Crane approached Duke. "Gotham's newest little bat, only; this one likes the sun."

Dick watched as Duke squared his jaw and didn't say anything. Dick couldn't see his eyes through the helmet on his face, but he could imagine the unafraid glare Duke must be giving.

"Hey," Dick called in an attempt to get the attention back onto himself, "we're not finished, Crane."

"Actually," Crane replied, his voice sounding excited and wistful, "I think we are."

Dick watched with a growing sense of horror and anxiety as Crane bent down and grabbed Duke by the chin, forcing Duke to bend his neck back at a painful looking angle. Duke grunted and attempted to tug his shoulders out from the grasps holding steadfast onto him.

"Tell me, morning bird," Crane whispered just loud enough for Dick to just barely hear him. His voice was husky with excitement. "What do you fear most?"

"Crane! Leave him alone!"

Dick went ignored as Scarecrow backed up, letting go of Duke's chin with a shove. He nodded and soon Dick was watching as Duke was hefted to his feet by the grunts behind him and held in place tightly. Dick struggled on his knees.

"It's not Signal you're wanting, Crane, you know this!" Dick tugged on the restraining holds still on him. He tried to get his feet under him, but the men holding him down had more power over him at the moment. Dick snarled. "You've had a grudge against me since I was a kid! If there's anyone you want for this, it's me! Let him go! Take me instead!"

Dick could swear he just saw the jagged cut of a grin on Scarecrow's face widen. Sharpen. "Yes, Nightwing," Crane agreed, his tone sinister with a touch of silk. "I've always hated you. The Robin without fear. It would be a pleasure to get you finally choking on your own tears. You were always the light to his shadow. However," Crane stopped to grab Duke by the arm and drag him forward, "I'm finding myself more interested in how the day to his night will react to my toxins."

Crane shoved Duke back to the lackeys and then shoved his scythe back under Dick's chin. "You'll have to be patient. Don't worry, whatever I create with him will be my masterpiece, and you will get a taste of it soon enough.

Dick snarled, his gut churning at the thought of Duke being tortured for who knew how long into the future. He tried to find his feet again, throwing his body back to unbalance the holds on him and get away from the scythe both at the same time.

This time, Dick was lucky. He managed to knock the men off him and climb to his feet. However, it was all for naught when one of the lackeys did the smart thing and hit him at the back of his skull with the butt of their gun.

Dick saw stars, and maybe his superhero name being shouted, but all he could grasp onto was that he was on the ground now, desperately trying to get a grasp back on reality as his head screamed in pain at him.

He just managed to focus on a blur of yellow being dragged off, but that focus only lasted a second before another blast of pain erupted on the side of his head, and he knew no more.

-o-o-o-o-

The feeling of gravity rolled, shooting Dick from unconsciousness straight into awareness as he was flipped from his stomach onto his back. He groaned, a migraine pounding away. The side of his head felt warm and wet. He had to blink a few times to reboot his brain and remember how he got here and why he was in so much pain.

And then, he remembered.

He jolted, shooting up to sit up but he was immediately met with resistance via Tim's hands grabbing onto his arms. The world swirled around him—looking similar to an old album cover from the 70s. Dick shot his arms up regardless of the dizziness attacking every one of his senses and wrapped his grasp around the front of Tim's suit.

"Signal-" Dick wheezed, tried to explain, but Tim just frowned and then began to shove Dick back to the ground, keeping his grasp on Dick's arm to pin him there. Tim was shockingly strong. Or maybe… Dick was shockingly weak.

Dick shook his head, but it sent the 70s into the 60s and his thoughts almost slipped away like fine sand. Duke. He had to focus on Duke. He was in trouble. Had Scarecrow already tested out his first drug? Was Duke already reliving his darkest nightmares? Dick didn't know everything about Duke, but he did know that in the short time he's been a part of the family business that he's already seen so much shit. The Joker and what he did to his parents being at the top of the list.

Dick remembered the first time the fear toxin made him relive his own parents' demise. He couldn't stop shaking for days.

This was Dick's fault. He was supposed to keep track of Duke. Show him the in's and out's of dealing with Scarecrow from the early stages, getting him prepared for when Crane eventually decided to reign his terror across the streets. That was the advantage the family wanted to give Duke. Make it so none of the future battles with Gotham's main gallery felt like it was too much. When you're new, big names could be confidence rattling.

And Dick had failed Duke. He brought Duke out. Dick didn't prepare for an actual attack.

Dick got Duke captured.

By Scarecrow.

It was all his fault.

Dick had to find him. Save him. He had to fix this. So he tightened his hands in Red Robin's suit and tried to sit up again. "Signal-" Dick tried again, but Tim didn't listen. He just shook his head and opened his mouth. Said something. Dick realized he couldn't hear. Everything sounded like the static on an empty radio channel. His own voice rumbled in his chest, vibrated inside his skull, but he couldn't pick apart anything else. And while the threat of deafness thanks to what was definitely a concussion scared the shit out of him, he couldn't just sit here and let Tim shove him back down to do nothing while Duke was most certainly in danger.

Dick forced strength he probably didn't have and attempted to shove Tim off from him. Somehow, against all odds, it worked. However, just moving his arms like that caused a spike of exhaustion to spear into his gut and it took every ounce of willpower in his body to work himself to his feet.

He stumbled once he was standing. Everything was spinning. His lack of hearing made his sense of balance dim. It was suddenly like he was a passenger in his own body. He knew he wanted to take a step forward, but he wasn't sure he did. His stomach rolled and he closed his eyes to catch his breath, but when he opened his eyes again he was laying back down face up, hands on his chest and legs straddling his hips. Pinning him down.

Dick felt sick.

He... He had to save Duke. He had to get whoever was on top of him off.

He twitched and his eyes closed again, only this time it was against his will. Something stinging stroke across his cheek, but everything was far away and he couldn't find his hands.

He fell into darkness again.

-o-o-o-o-

He woke up feeling similar to how Buster from Mythbusters looked. His head felt muffled. Far away. So much so that it took a minute for the migraine to kick in once he cracked his eyes open.

The lights were dim, thank heavens, so it only took a moment for Dick's eyes to adjust. He easily recognized the medbay of the Batcave, having woken up here too many times to confidently number. He reached up to his head and felt bandages wrapped tightly around his skull. Then, he blinked and realized there was a presence besides him. It took him a minute for his eyes to travel over to the side, but when he did his eyebrows rose and he went completely still.

Duke was there. In pajamas, sitting on a plastic folding chair off to the side of Dick's bed. Not a scratch on him.

Duke, probably having sensed Dick as well, looked up from his phone towards where Dick laid. A smile broke out on his face.

Duke started speaking, but Dick couldn't hear him. Not that Dick cared at the moment. He was too happy seeing Duke looking completely fine. Exactly as he should be. It was like a dream. Could this be a dream? Dick hoped not.

Duke finishes speaking, tilting his head and brows scrunching up. Dick realized that he must have been asked a question, but because he was too busy reeling over how this all seemed so impossible—because he could have sworn Duke was captured—to read his lips. Dick cleared his throat, thankful that he could still at least hear his own voice, and gave a shaky smile.

"Cn't hear ya," he muttered, his voice too scratchy and his energy too low to do much more than that. Duke's eyes widened and he looked to the side to definitely swear. Dick won't tell Alfred though. It's not like he heard it.

Duke looked lost with himself for a moment, bringing his hands up to his chest beginning to sign what he wanted to say letter by letter. Duke's still learning sign. Cass was teaching him and he was learning quickly. He was still a beginner though and didn't know how to say much more than basic conversation. Dick felt a laugh escape his throat, sending a spike of pain into his head.

"E-S-C-A-P-E" Duke signed, carefully shaping every letter with concentration over his facial features. He began to start singing something more, but then he stopped mid "N" and looked over to the entrance of the bay, relief melting the hard edges of his face. Dick turned to look af well and what he saw didn't really surprise him.

Bruce, still garbed in his suit, but his cowl and cape were absent. He looked tired. Frown pulled down a little more than usual. The bags under his eyes a little more vibrant. Bruce analyzed the room for a brief moment, but a smidge of life seemed to return to his face when his gaze landed on Duke and Dick. His lips twitched. They didn't become a smile, but it was almost one. Dick had learned to live with Bruce's almosts.

Duke opened his mouth and, judging by the way that smidge of relief and happiness on his face rapidly declined, Dick could guess what was said. Bruce expected Dick's hearing to be back by now. Dick tried not to let that clench something in his gut.

Bruce walked forward, his footsteps soundless, before he settled besides Dick's beside and snapped his fingers next to Dick's ear.

Dick tried to listen. He really did. It just… wasn't there. He took a calming breath, released it, then shook his head.

Now Bruce was full on frowning, and Dick almost expected Bruce to turn tail and retreat, maybe to call Leslie or research hearing loss caused by concussion. Instead, he was shocked to find that Bruce simply turned to pull another chair to his bedside, his hands already delicately placed in front of his chest.

Can you hear anything?

Dick shook his head and bit the inside of his cheek.

Should not be permanent. Leslie said to call her if it takes longer than a day to start returning.

Dick nodded. Took another breath. He could feel it lingering behind his eyes, the fear of never being able to hear ever again. It made him want to throw something, but Duke was here, and Dick couldn't focus on himself right now. He had to know what happened after his head was smashed in. Thankfully, Bruce seemed to know him well enough to expect that of Dick. That to avoid breaking down he needed to worry about someone else.

Escaped on his own. Called the family to find you.

Ah. So in the end, it was Dick who needed rescuing. Duke handled himself. Which, somewhere at the back of Dick's mind he knew Duke was a skilled fighter. He was a quick learner. Versatile. Give him a situation and he'd work it to his advantage. And maybe Dick was so worried because even though Duke was nowhere near the youngest of the family, he was still the baby of it. He'd lost his parents so recently. He was the newest to the fold. His trauma was still ripe. And maybe it was the big brother in Dick, but he didn’t want to fail Duke like he's failed all the others. Jason died because he wasn't there. Tim felt abandoned because Dick thought he was ready to let go of something he was still attached to. Damian died after Dick failed to defeat his killer. He never noticed Cassandra and her pain when she was with the League.

He didn’t want to be the cause of something so… so horrible in Duke's life. He didn’t want to look back on Duke and see regret and hindsight.

That almost happened tonight.

But he escaped. He handled it. Crane didn't torture anyone tonight.

Duke was okay.

He sighed and sank into the cushions of the cot and smiled when Bruce lifted a hand and wrapped it around his knee, squeezing slightly in reassurance. Dick shot one last glance at Duke and smiled. Duke beamed back, albeit a bit apprehensively. Dick didn't take the hesitation to be completely open with the family personally. Duke was still new. Soon enough, they'd all get used to each other.

Get some rest, Bruce signed and Dick hummed. Yeah, he felt tired all over again. Must be the head injury. Maybe the relief that everything had worked out at the expense of his hearing.

And Bruce said Leslie predicted it shouldn't be permanent. Within a few days, it would be like nothing happened. They'd continue to hunt Crane, only next time he'd be the one cuffed and dragged away. His vacation from Arkham wouldn’t last long, Dick would personally attest to that.

He'd do anything to make sure his family stayed safe during these stressful next few weeks that always follow an Arkham breakout. Everyone would return home safe, every single night. Dick will make sure of it. Hearing or not.

No one will be hurting Duke. Or any of his family. Not while Dick Grayson had a say in it.

#dick grayson #duke thomas #bruce wayne #nightwing #signal #batman #dc #dc comics #fic #fanfiction #jin writes #whumptober 2020 #no.9 #take me instead #major injury tw

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stilloutofmyvulcanmind · 4 years

Text

And It All Came Tumbling Down Part 3

Request: Reader getting people out to safety gets hurt really badly and trapped, and Bruce has to save her

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Female!Reader, Dick Grayson

Word Count: 3600

Warnings: Graphic injuries, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: During a work party a call comes in that the Joker has planted a bomb somewhere in Gotham. You’re tasked with clearing your building when the unthinkable happens.

A/N: Thank you all for the love you’ve given this series, and I hope you like this last part! If you’ve enjoyed this series, I’ve got a question at the end of the chapter that I’d like some feedback to if you’re so inclined!

Part 3 of 3

Part 1 Part 2

You were falling. Down, down, down into never-ending darkness. There was a light up above. So faint it was barely discernible, but it was there. It led to safety but it was forever out of reach. No matter how hard you tried you couldn't grasp it.

You screamed but water flooded your lungs. It burned, choking you even as you fought for a breath.

The light above flickered out.

Something was covering your mouth, you could feel it pressing against your skin. You scrabbled at it desperately wanting to get it off as panic set in.

"Hey, hey, hey, Y/N. It's okay, you're okay." A voice spoke from somewhere up above, a warm hand coming to rest over your own. You recognized it.

Blinking your eyes open everything was blurry and unfocused. Someone was hovering over you though, and slowly Bruce came into focus, smiling down at you softly.

"Hey, baby," he said quietly, his free hand reaching for something over your head before coming down to brush some hair off your forehead.

You tried to say something back, what, you weren't entirely certain but something, but even thinking of words felt like effort, like your mind was filled with fog and you couldn't quite find what you needed. Gradually your surroundings were becoming more clear though.

You were in a hospital if the quiet beeping of machines were anything to go by. A private room. A nice one. There were flowers next to your bed. Your favorites. The thing over your mouth was an oxygen mask. You'd been trying to yank it off when Bruce had stopped you. Bruce…

He was still talking to you, nothing important, just quiet little things to keep you calm and comforted. He looked terrible. There were dark circles under his eyes, he hadn't shaved in several days, and there was a nasty looking gash slicing along one side of his jaw. He still had a hand over yours, fingers entwined now.

You managed a smile at him, and the worry in his eyes instantly faded some. You tried to take the mask off with your other hand, wanting to try and say something again but found that it was covered in a cast that went up to your elbow. Oh.

How hurt were you? Was that the reason for Bruce's worry? You couldn't feel any pain, but you couldn't feel much of anything other than a dull ache in your chest. The fall. The water. Anything could've broken. Was that why you couldn't feel?

"Shh, you're okay." Bruce must've seen the panic rise again. "The Doctor will be here in a minute to explain everything."

He seemed so certain that it was impossible to not believe him. As long as he was next to you, you could deal with anything anyway.

The Doctor came in soon after just like Bruce had said, and checked you over before asking some simple questions. It was still an effort to speak, but you managed and he seemed happy enough. You noticed Bruce's shoulders relax some.

You were told you were lucky. That the falls you took could've been enough to kill you on their own, without the additional injuries. The worst had been the wound to your side. The second fall had ripped it out, doing worse damage, but the Doctor assured that they'd managed to repair it, and there was nothing to worry about. On top of that, there had been two head wounds, which explained the questions, several broken ribs and hairline fractures, a broken forearm, a torn knee ligament, a punctured lung, and enough scrapes and bruises that there were more damaged areas than not.

After that, you weren't really surprised when he said about the amount of painkillers you were on to keep you comfy.

Bruce thanked the Doctor when he was done with a shake of the hand, then returned to his seat next to your bed, your hand in his once again.

When you were alone, you smiled at him again. "You got to me."

"Told you I would," Bruce smiled back, kissing the back of your hand gently.

"What happened?" You asked, motioning to the cut on his face.

"This? Sharp piece of rubble. I've had worse."

You nodded, letting your eyes flutter closed for a moment while you enjoyed the comfort of just having Bruce next to you.

"The others? Did they get out?"

"Yeah. There were a few minor injuries, but that's it. You saved them."

It didn't feel that way, but it was a relief to hear. "Joker?"

"Tracked him down the night after and sent him back to Arkham."

"Thank God." You slumped into the bed, not noticing how tense you'd been. Everything was okay now. You were alive, Bruce was there. You needed to talk but it could wait.

"You should get some rest." Bruce must've seen you were still exhausted and leaned down to kiss your forehead.

"You too. Look awful."

"Thanks," Bruce chuckled. "I'll get some sleep later. Focus on yourself."

"'kay." Closing your eyes again, you kept Bruce's hand in yours as you drifted off back to sleep.

The following days were mostly a blur of slipping in and out of consciousness. Bruce was there every time, occasionally joined by Alfred or Dick. You talked a little to them, but mostly it was still too much effort, and easier to just slip back off into sleep again.

The next time you woke, you ached. The Doctors had been reducing some of your pain meds and you were starting to feel it. For a moment you thought you were by yourself for once, but a rustle of paper had you looking to the corner of the room to see Dick sitting there reading a book.

It was the first time you'd seen him by himself since you first came to.

"Hey," you said, drawing his attention. "What you doing over there?"

"Didn't want to disturb you," he answered, marking the page he was on then set the book down.

You smiled gently and held out your good arm towards him. "Come here." Waiting until he moved around to sit by your side, you asked, "How are you?"

"Okay."

"Sure? You don't look so certain."

Dick nodded, "Yeah. Just glad you're awake. You were out for so long, I didn't know-" his voice cracked when he cut himself off, looking down at his hands.

"I'm gonna be fine, Dick."

"I know, I just…can't lose you too."

Your heart broke for him right then and used what strength you had to tug him in for a hug. It was awkward, holding yourself at an angle that didn't hurt too much was a strain, but it was worth it to feel his arms around you, being so careful not to squeeze. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

"You nearly did." Dick's voice was quiet when he pulled away, letting you relax again. "I got to the roof where B had you, and you weren't moving. You weren't breathing! And Bruce…I've never seen him like that."

"Like what?"

"Scared. He didn't say anything, but I could see it. He thought he'd lost you too."

It was difficult to know what to say to that. Dick wasn't the only one who'd never seen Bruce scared. He'd always been unshakeable, the one to spread the fear not feel it, so it was a difficult image to conceive. Maybe Dick had just been projecting, looking to see his own fear in someone else. Because it just didn't make sense for Bruce to be scared. Why would he?

The things you'd been feeling before the attack had faded, lost to the pain and fear and then the relief of being alive, but now they were trickling back, feeling like lead in your stomach. Bruce would've been concerned for your safety, sure. Just like he was concerned for every civilian's safety. But you couldn't shake the feeling that was as far as it went. Being scared would suggest feelings you weren't entirely sure he had for you.

Dick must've noticed something because he was frowning, "Are you okay?"

Shaking yourself out of it, you nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Still a little out of it I guess."

He looked far from convinced, but the concern made you smile. Bruce had taken him in before you two had gotten together, but there'd always been a connection between Dick and you. Perhaps that was why Bruce had originally asked you out. It made sense.

As if he knew you were thinking about him, Bruce knocked and entered the room carrying a fresh bunch of flowers.

"Hey, you're awake," he smiled, setting the flowers down before leaning over to kiss your forehead.

"Came to a little while ago. Dick and I have been catching up." You avoided Bruce's eyes when you spoke, something he didn't fail to miss.

Digging into his pocket, Bruce pulled out his wallet and handed Dick some cash. "Give us a minute?"

Dick looked between you both for a moment, then nodded and tucked the money away. He gave you another quick hug, then exited the room, probably off in search of food.

Bruce waited for the door to click shut, then sat down wearily, tugging the knot of his tie loose as he did so. The dark circles under his eyes had faded some over the last week, and he'd shaved now, but he still looked a little worse for wear. He was watching you, or studying more like, taking in every detail, trying to figure out what you were thinking. "I'm sorry."

That wasn't what you'd expected him to say. "For what?"

"Everything. For ditching the party, for asking you to be the one to get people out. For putting you in danger. You nearly died because of me."

He was sincere, you could see it in his eyes. He meant every word, harbored the guilt. Only it made your own guilt worse. "Not your fault. Didn't tell me to stay behind."

"You did exactly what I would've done. Saved all those people. But you shouldn't have been in the position to make that choice. That's on me."

"No. Bruce, it's not. No one forced me, and like…like you said, it's what you would've done."

"You aren't me though, Y/N."

"I wanted to be! I thought...I thought if-" You cut yourself off, turning your head away from him.

"Thought what?" When you didn't answer, Bruce took your hand, squeezing it gently. "Talk to me, please."

"I...thought…I thought if I was like you…I'd be a hero too and you'd think I was important." The final words came out rushed, heat spreading across your cheeks at the admission.

"Y/N…" Bruce's hand was on your face, guiding it back to look at him. He looked wounded, "Why would you not be important?"

"Because you never forget important things."

You could see the realization dawn in his eyes and would've turned away again if it wasn't for Bruce's hand still on your face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, "You're important. You always have been. I fucked up, I know I did, but I love you, more than I ever could say. Never think otherwise, please."

It was impossible not to believe him. The genuine sincerity, the pain, the love, it was all there, plain to see. That openness, the vulnerability he so rarely showed, along with what he said, made you nod. "Okay."

Bruce smiled softly and leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips. "I don't have an excuse for forgetting, but I want you to know that I didn't. Not completely. I knew it was coming up, I bought a gift, then, the days got so muddled between work and patrols, I just didn't realize it had come up so quick. It won't happen again.”

You believed him. It still stung, but it was understandable. And at least he hadn’t entirely forgotten. “Always next year to make sure things go better.”

“Yeah. But if you'll have me, I can rearrange what I planned this year. Just go a little later."

"Go where?"

"To Rome. I arranged for us to have a weekend there for your birthday."

"Rome?"

"You said you always wanted to go."

You were about to protest, say that you'd never told him that, then you remembered. A couple of years ago you'd told him a board member wasn't available since he'd gone on vacation to Rome, and mentioned in passing that you were jealous and wanted to go. Bruce hadn't acknowledged it at the time, and you'd assumed he'd been too preoccupied with paperwork to pay attention. Apparently, he had been. "You remembered that?"

"I remember the important things."

The words shouldn’t have hit hard, but they did, and you could feel the tears burn at your eyes. It was such a dumb thing to cry over, but there you were, crying because he’d noticed one small fact. Maybe it was because you were still exhausted from everything, or maybe it was because it smashed all the thoughts you’d been having to pieces.

“What’s wrong? We can go somewhere else if you want? Back to France, or somewhere else altogether.” Bruce had moved from his seat and was kneeling on the floor in front of you so he was as close as he could be, gently reaching forward to brush the tears away.

“No. No, Rome is perfect. It’s just...I love you.”

“I love you too.” Bruce stretched, letting his forehead rest against yours, a hand slipping to idly stroke your hair.

You wished he could be next to you, that you could feel his arms around your waist, but the bed was too small, and though the two of you probably could’ve squashed on, it would’ve hurt.

At least he was there, you still had him and he had you, and for the moment, that was enough.

The room was dark when you awoke with a start, cold beads of sweat coating your skin. Your breaths came in harsh ragged pants, loud in the silence.

You'd been home a week now, and so far the nightmares had stayed at bay. Until tonight. Tonight you'd found yourself trapped all over again, falling endlessly, freezing water forcing its way in your body. Bruce was above you, yelling your name, but unable to reach you. Knowing now how scared he'd been that night made it all so much worse.

You sighed, using your good arm to sit yourself up in the bed. The space next to you was empty and undisturbed. Not surprising. You'd talked Bruce into going back out on patrol again. He'd been by your side since your return to the manor, and while you appreciated it, you'd convinced him that a return to normality would be for the best.

Now you wished you hadn't.

Your injured leg protested as pushed yourself out of the bed, though it settled down once you were steady, the knee brace doing its job well, and headed into the bathroom. You could always text Bruce. He'd be home in a flash if you needed him, but the city needed him too. And it was late enough that it probably wouldn't be long before he returned anyway.

Splashing some water on your face, you looked yourself over in the mirror. There'd been no nightmares, but you hadn't slept much either, content most nights to just lay in Bruce's arms, and it showed. Tomorrow. You’d sleep tomorrow when Bruce was back home and you could spend the day in bed together. It'd be nice.

Not really wanting to do anything, and not wanting to risk disturbing Alfred when he was watching over Bruce and Dick, you decided to just head back to bed. Sleep would evade you until Bruce was home, but at least you could be comfy. The full-length mirror in the bedroom stopped you in your steps first. It glinted in the moonlight that filtered through the gap in the curtains, drawing your attention to it.

You clicked a light on and stood in front of it, taking in the full length of your body. The brace was kinda clumpy so shorts had been your best sleep option, and an old t-shirt belonging to Bruce was comfy enough to cover the rest of you. The cast on your arm was still there, though by now it was covered in graffiti of little birds thanks to Dick. Raising the shirt you could see bruises that were now almost faded, and the lesser of the cuts nearly gone, with just slight discoloration where the new skin had grown to mark their presence.

Then, of course, there was the bandage on your side, masking the stitches that lay beneath. They'd be coming out soon, and then you'd be able to see the scar for the first time. You'd already been warned that it wouldn't be pretty. The exact opposite.

It was the first time you'd really stopped to look at yourself, to take in everything that had happened. You touched the bandage gently, fingers ghosting over it.

You'd gotten lucky. Way too lucky. By all rights, you should've died.

Fuck.

The thought slammed into you.

In the weeks since you'd come to you hadn't stopped to think about that, too busy reassuring everyone that you were fine and alive. You'd come so close to dying. By all rights, you had died. You knew the trouble Bruce had getting you breathing again. If it hadn't been for him…

"You should be in bed."

You turned sharply to see Bruce in the doorway, dressed in sweats and t-shirt, home for the night.

The tremble spread through your body, legs shaking as you tried to keep upright. "Bruce…" Your voice came out quiet, cracking at the first sob that wracked its way through your chest.

Your legs gave out from under you, but instead of hitting the floor there were arms around you, pulling you into a solid chest.

It only made you cry harder.

Bruce held you to him, letting you sob into his shirt, whispering to let it out as one hand rubbed your back. You clung to him, as though you'd fall away if you didn't.

"'M'sorry," you mumbled when you could finally speak again.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing." Bruce kissed the top of your head, and moved you both to the bed, being careful of your injuries, but still making sure you were against his chest. He had you propped up, back to his front.

You twisted slightly so you could bury your face in his neck. "I stopped breathing." Bruce's arms tightened a fraction around you, and you didn't need to see his face to know he was schooling his own reactions. "If you hadn't saved me, I…"

"I'm always going to save you. No matter what it takes."

Closing your eyes, you nodded. "I know. I do. It just-"

"Doesn't make what happened easier."

"Yeah."

Bruce ran a hand over your arm, letting you both sit in silence for a minute. It was nice. Having him there calmed you. You never felt safer than when you were like this. "If you want, if it'll help, I can get you an appointment with a psychiatrist. Best in the city," he said after a while.

It was a perfectly sensible idea, one that wasn't unappealing, but it made you cringe nonetheless. "You've been through worse and don't need to see one," you whispered.

Bruce shifted and lifted your head, "Y/N, I run around dressed as a bat. I think there are plenty who'd say I need to see one."

You couldn't help it. You laughed. For the first time in weeks, you laughed. It was absurd, to hear everything Bruce did be minimized down to that, especially from him, and that's what made the whole thing so funny. It must've triggered something in Bruce too because he was laughing with you, and for a few minutes everything felt normal again.

The two of you came down slowly, Bruce playing with your hair as he smiled at you. "So, do you? Want an appointment?"

You nodded. "Please. Think I need some help with it all."

"Okay." The total lack of judgment in Bruce's eyes made it all the easier to admit to wanting help. "I'll look into in the morning."

"Thank you."

"Anything for you." Bruce kissed you and it was easy to lean into it, to let him guide it and pull a quiet moan from you.

You broke apart and Bruce smiled, brushing some hair from your face. "Hold on a second. I've got something." He pulled away carefully and reached into one of the drawers by the side of the bed. When he returned, he handed you an envelope. "I was going to wait and take you to dinner first, but…"

You opened the envelope, pulling out the two slips of paper that lay inside. Tickets to Rome. The date was for a couple of months, enough time for you to finish healing. It was the return date that made you raise an eyebrow. "These are for a week."

"I think Gotham can survive a week. It still has Robin and if anything happens the jet can have us back in a few hours."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

A grin crept its way onto your face, tucking the tickets back away so you could wrap an arm around his shoulders. It hurt a little but compared to everything else it was nothing, and for the moment you couldn't care less. You were happy and excited, and utterly in love with a man who obviously loved you back.

Bruce returned the grin and kissed you again.

Things were going to be okay.

A/A/N: Hey! So while the main story of this series is done, I’m considering doing a bonus chapter set between parts 2+3. It’ll be Batman and Robin tracking down Joker and taking him in. Basically, I want to write about a Very Mad Bat, and this seemed like the best way to do it! So if that’s something you want to see, let me know!

Like what you read? Consider buying me a coffee! (I’ll love you forever)

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