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fishfingersandjellybabies · 3 years

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The Crown Found in Rose Thorns - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Talia al Ghul, Jon Kent, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne Pairing: jondami Summary: “My name is Jonathan Kent, of the Kingdom of Krypton. And I’m here to marry Prince Damian of the Kingdom of Gotham.” A/N: I told @berryfartsart some medieval jondami headcanons inspired by the DKOS announcement and they cyberbullied me into writing the AU for it. (Kidding, of course.) Anyway get ready for some old fashion slow burns and smoopy goopy love~ (but like...eventually, this won’t be fast updated haha)

Damian huffed, crossing his arms, wincing as the Cassandra pulled the brush through his curls once more.

“This is a farce.” He droned. “A complete jester act.”

Talia chuckled, but didn’t look back at her son. Continued brushing her own hair.

“It’s going to be the same as the past three days.” Damian warned. “They’re all simpletons not worthy of my time, or anyone else’s.”

“Then I would at least like to remind you, my dear precious boy.” Talia hummed, effortlessly twirling her hair into a braid. “That I am not asking you to marry today. I am asking you to explore what traits might appeal to you, what kingdoms you trust, or don’t.”

Damian winced as his sister tugged gently at his hair, and scoffed. “It shouldn’t be up to me. My marriage is unimportant.” He mumbled. “You should be focusing on the heir’s marriage.”

Talia sighed, dropping her brush onto her vanity and standing. She stared into the mirror for a moment before leaning over and plucking Damian’s crown off its stand. She turned and slowly walked across the room, staring warmly down at Damian as she approached him.

“Richard does not have a threat hanging over his life.” She murmured, pushing his bangs back before carefully placing the crown on his head. “Richard does not need all the protection he can get.”

“And our brother already has a suitor.” Cassandra chimed in with a giggle. “That warrior princess from the Tamaranean lands.”

“Indeed.” Talia agreed. “So even if he needed any protection from something he could not handle himself, it appears he already has it.”

“Jason then.” Damian tried. He twisted to look at Cassandra. “Or you.” He sat up. “You’re already betrothed to that bard woman!” He turned back to his mother. “Why can’t we make a big deal about her nuptials instead!”

“Because her grandfather is not threatening to steal her away and hold her prisoner and eventually murder her for power.” Talia laughed, holding Damian’s face with a hand on his cheek. “And I am not above a political marriage if that means you have two kingdoms protecting you instead of just ours.”

Damian pursed his lips, ignored the heat rising through his face. “…And if I pick no one to attempt a courtship?”

“Like I said, my beloved.” Talia leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I am not above political marriage to protect you.” She smiled, eyes darting between his. “Even if you forever hate me for it.”

She stood back up, adjusted his crown, then Cassandra’s, then her own, and turned to glide out of the room.

The throne room was abuzz with citizens of the town, and even visitors who had come to try their luck and win Prince Damian’s hand.

Damian sighed as he followed Richard onto their altar. Scanning the room, he could already see no one of merit, and no one of interest. So it was going to be another boring, pointless, wasted day.

“This should be for you.” Damian mumbled again.

Richard snorted, plopping into his seat. “Sorry I found love on my own, little one. Without Mother and Father’s help.” He smirked. “Besides, you should be nice to me. I don’t have to sit here with you all day. I’m just here out of the goodness of my heart, and fondness for my poor, sorrowful, lonely little brother.”

“Piss off. You’re here to amuse yourself at my expense.” Damian rolled his eyes, sitting more politely in the throne next to him. “And so you can go cackle at my misfortune with our brothers later.”

“Nonsense. We cackle at your misfortune on a normal day too.” Richard promised with a wink. “How’s that growth spurt treating you anyway?”

Damian frowned, tugging at his sleeves. “…I have requested a new fitting with Alfred after today’s…festivities.”

Dick smiled again, running his fingers through Damian’s neatly combed curls. “Your clothes will fit for longer than a week one day soon, kiddo.” He let his fingers fall from Damian’s hair to his cheek. “…I’m not just here to keep you company, you know.”

“…Oh?”

“Mhm.” Richard nodded. Damian watched as his blue eyes darted around the room. “I’m here to vet your potential suitors. Make sure they are good enough for you, strong enough to protect you-”

“I can protect myself, thank you.”

“-and this is the fourth day of the festivities. No doubt your grandfather has heard of them by now. Someone has to make sure no undesirables have snuck in, or attempt to make a move.”

“Do you truly think he would be so brash?” Damian questioned. “Besides, this whole thing was Mother’s doing. So, I thought that was why Father keeps attending, to keep watch.”

“He is. But like I said, this is the fourth day. Enough time to get word and move to strike. And forgive me if I’d rather be safe than sorry.” Richard smiled apologetically. “So Father and I are in here, Jason and Cassandra are running the perimeter and Timothy is monitoring the guard towers.”

Damian sighed, staring out into the crowd once more. A few of the guests were glancing their way now. Giggling and falling back into their whispers. Some of the less modest ones outright stared, giving Damian as flirty a smile as they could.

“…Well, as much as I appreciate your concern, I’m afraid it will all be for naught.” Damian drooped in his chair and crossed his arms. “If today is anything like the past three, it will be the most boring day of your life, and nothing will come to fruition.”

“Never say never, little one.” Richard offered dreamily. “Love strikes when you least expect it.”

“Love.” Damian scoffed, glancing over as Bruce and Talia entered the room, hands clasped between them. “Who said any of this was for love?”

“Well.” Richard hummed. “It is because we love you.” He offered. “And we’re hoping not to make this an arranged affair. That we can find you happiness in a partner as well as protection. That’s why we want you to choose.”

“And if I never choose anyone?”

Richard blinked, then offered a smile. But it was sad, almost pitying.

Damian crossed his arms tighter, glancing towards their parents as the King and Queen sat next to them.

“As I keep telling you all, I can protect myself.” Damian mumbled. “And I’m content being alone.”

Richard kept his sad smile. Damian refused to look at him anymore.

Damian wanted to rip his hair out.

As he had predicted many times that day, it was just more of the same.

A blacksmith offering the best weapons, and the safest house on the continent.

A nomad promising a life of adventure and delicious foods.

A group of sisters offering as many heirs as they could carry, and their father as the sole brave knight to protect them all.

A witch and a wizard together, offering magic as protection and endless fertility to continue the kingdom’s bloodline.

A princess offering the best clothes and parties.

A duke who…wasn’t even sure why he was there. He was sent by his father, and didn’t even know Damian’s name.

A young woman who merely offered her humor and loyalty. She could make him laugh, and made it clear that was all she had.

Damian almost agreed to meet with her, if only because he appreciated her honesty.

The sun was dipping in the sky outside the western window, and Damian could feel his stomach starting to growl. He glanced to his brother, who had sat all but stock-still all day, doing exactly as he’d said he would. Watching the room, vetting the visitors. Making sure these potential suitors were good enough for his littlest brother.

“…How many more do you think Mother will have stroll through here?” Damian whispered. “I don’t think I can take much more of this mind-numbing torture.”

Richard chuckled. “I’ll give her four more, then push for a recess. Alright?”

“Thank you.” Damian breathed in relief, glancing out towards the room. The crowd had thinned slightly, with some parties departing when their candidate was politely rejected. Others were just the local townsfolk, remaining purely to stick their noses in royal business.

Talia called for the next suitor to step up, and on the far side of the room, Damian saw three people stepping forward. But before they could make it even a yard, one of the large doors across from the thrones groaned open.

“Am I late?” A male voice called. A wave of chuckles swam around the room, and even Damian found himself smirking.

“Depends on what you’re looking for, son.” Bruce called. Despite the normal nature of the interruption, Damian could already see both his father and brother had put their hands on the hilt of their swords.

“Apologies, Your Highnesses,” Alfred appeared behind the man. He sent a glare over his shoulder as he passed by him. “I had asked him to wait a few moments, but he clearly refused. I do hope we aren’t interrupting.”

“No.” Bruce waved to three people apologetically, who nodded and disappeared back into the crowd. “If he is here for Damian, then we can hear him out.”

“I am!” The stranger called. When he moved, the sound of armor clanked around him. “Um, yes. I mean. I am. I am here for Prince Damian.”

“…Though tardiness is not a good first impression, I must say.” Talia scolded quietly. Bruce gave her a gentle smile and patted her hand. “Bring him forward.”

“Great!” The man – young, by the sound of it, probably closer to a boy – called, leaping past Alfred. “I mean, uh, thank you, Your Highness. For the opportunity.”

Damian watched the man as he walked the long carpet forward, and he felt his eyes narrowing in curiosity. He had dark hair that seemed permanently windblown framing his face, and an awkward smile that almost seemed like it was about to burst from his face.

What really struck Damian’s interest, however, were his eyes. They were a sharp violet, a color Damian didn’t recall ever seeing on a human being before. They were fascinating. Beautiful, even, if he really had to describe them.

As he approached, Damian realized the man – boy, he truly was a boy – was around his age. Seventeen like himself at most, but more likely a year or two younger. What surprised him about that, though, was the armour he wore. While a sparkling silver and recently cleaned, Damian could see nicks and dents in it, even a few shadows that could easily be blood stains, if he got close enough to look.

Barely seventeen and already a battle-worn war veteran?

Attached to the shoulder plate of his armour was a brooch that fastened his bright red cloak together around his neck. It was gold, shaped like a freshly cut diamond, with a large S painted blue on the inside.

Damian didn’t recognize the coat of arms. And Damian knew all the coat of arms of every kingdom and town on the continent.

That was suspicious.

He glanced to his side again. Richard had not taken his hand off his sword.

The boy had reached their feet now, that large smile still adorning his face.

“Hello.” He said plainly. “My name is Jonathan Kent, of the Kingdom of Krypton.”

Talia huffed, raising her head. “And what are you here for, Sir Jonathan?”

Jonathan’s smile, impossibly, seemed to widen.

“Well, Your Highness.” He started, turning his head to stare directly at Damian. Damian found himself flinching under the intense gaze. “I’m here to marry Prince Damian of the Kingdom of Gotham.”

A wave of gasps rolled through the room, followed by an almost deathly silence. While they were all here to propose a courtship and future with the prince, no one had dared to be so forward! Just as no one should have. It was presumptuous and out of place. Everyone knew that. Everyone.

Bruce and Talia glanced at each other, and Richard had the gall to stifle a laugh in his fist.

But Damian.

He was tired, he was annoyed. He was fed up with this charade that had not only taken up almost a week of his life, but one he did not want to partake in, in the first place. He was fed up with people looking at him. Fed up with being treated like a thing, a prize.

So as his parents glanced at each other, and the court calmed themselves over the offense, Damian stood, moving to the front of the altar.

“I beg your pardon?” He spat, brushing off Richard’s fingers as he tried to grab him. “How dare you think I’d want to marry a nameless peasant such as yourself.”

“Well, past experience says you wouldn’t be that against it.” Jonathan shrugged, armor clanking. “But that also is a moot point, because I’m not a peasant. I’m Jonathan, from the Kingdom of Krypto-”

“I’ve never heard of it.” Damian declared. “And I know every kingdom here to the coasts. Which makes you a liar, dear knight.”

The moniker was all but sneered, but Jonathan just let his smile grow a little wider, a little…fonder.

Suddenly Jonathan glanced over Damian’s shoulder. “My father’s name is Clark Kent, but he also sometimes goes by Kal. You’ve fought at his side before, King Bruce.”

Damian whirled around to find his father nodding. “Indeed I have.” Bruce frowned. “I don’t recall him being from any kingdom though. He called himself a traveler.”

“A…recent development.” Jonathan admitted. “One we are still getting used to. But Krypton is his – our – home, and once the truth was discovered, they welcomed us back with open arms.”

“Your father is king?” Jonathan nodded. “Quite the…development, as you said.” Bruce murmured. He glanced at Dick, who shook his head. “He never mentioned a son.”

“He has two. Myself and my older brother, Connor.” A nervous chuckle. “He was…very protective of us as we traveled. Hid us in forests and with witches when he and mother had dealings in towns and villages. Apparently whatever ousted him from Krypton all those years ago, he was afraid we would be its next target.”

“None of this is relevant to today.” Damian cut in, whirling back around to face the suitor. “How long have you been under the title of prince?”

“A few years.”

“And in a few years you did not learn any manners?” Damian scolded, crossing his arms. “You do not enter another’s kingdom and demand someone’s hand in marriage.”

“I did not demand.” Jonathan countered. “I promised.”

Damian felt heat rise to his cheeks. “And who said I would choose you? How do you know I have not chosen anyone to court yet?”

“Past experience.”

“Past experience with who?”

“You.”

The room’s silence grew tense. Damian’s hands balled into fists.

“I have never met you for a second in my life.”

Jonathan lowered his voice. “Are you so sure?”

Damian narrowed his eyes, and opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by his mother.

“Damian.” She hummed. “…What do you think of this…gentleman? Are you interested in him?”

“I think he’s a complete buffoon.” Damian answered instantly. Jonathan chuckled to himself. “An arrogant, deceptive moron.”

Jonathan merely blinked. “Your Highness, that doesn’t answer her question.”

Damian felt a blush blossoming on his face. “You-”

“And if we’re going to marry within the year, perhaps you should answer quickly, so we can begin our courtship.”

“Again, who said I would ever want to marry you?” Damian demanded.

Jonathan shrugged again. “Well, so far, you haven’t said you don’t.”

Damian felt his jaw go rigid. This idiot. This disrespectful, uneducated boy who claims he fell into power. So sure of himself, so narcissistic. And he already thought Damian belonged to him? That Damian was already his?

That smile was still plastered to his face. It was mischievous, and held a secret.

Held a challenge.

Say no, it said. I dare you. Let me embarrass you in front of your court and walk away with your tail between your legs. I dare you.

Damian never could turn down a dare. A test. And if it was a challenge Jonathan Kent of Krypton wanted, it was a challenge he would get.

He wanted to court Damian? Fine. Let him court Damian. Damian would eat him alive. Emotionally tear him limb from limb. Send him crawling back to Krypton wondering why he ever even bothered with the youngest Prince of Gotham.

After a moment, Damian returned the smile, slowly walked down the altar steps, and moved towards the knight. Stopped only inches away, and stared up into those mystical purple eyes.

There was something in those eyes, Damian noted. Something just out of reach. Purposefully hidden. Hidden from everyone? Or just Damian?

This close, and Damian was reminded once more of the marks on his armor. The red shadows he’d noticed before, he could now confirm were blood. Old and flaking, and much more of it than he first realized. Not his own, Damian decided, based on their locations. Blood from others.

Mischievous…and dangerous.

(And beautiful!, his brain supplied. But he ignored that part. Stayed focused on the challenge at hand.)

He glanced down between them when he noticed Jonathan’s fingers twitch, like he wanted to reach out. Want to touch him. Damian let his gaze rise. Smirked, and reveled in the scene of Jonathan biting his lip, just slightly.

“Yes, Mother.” He whispered. But his voice was heard through the whole room. “I think I am interested.”

Jonathan kept his gaze. Whispered back, “I knew you would be.”

“Your arrogance will be the death of you, Traveler.” Damian hummed, turning away. He began back up the steps, was almost to the top, when he heard the quietest words ever spoken.

“No, I do believe only you will be, love.”

Damian spun back around at the tender sound, his face heating up. Jonathan was still staring, but now his gaze was softer, more adoring. Like he’d known Damian for years.

Like he really was here just to profess his eternal love and marry him on the spot.

…Curious.

Suddenly, a hand was on Damian’s shoulder, and he turned to find Richard above him, watching Jonathan as he tugged Damian back to his seat.

Talia began speaking to Jonathan, Bruce adding a word or two, as Richard and Damian sat back down. That look was gone from Jonathan’s face now, back to business as the queen set a time for him to return the next day to spend time with her son.

“…First impression?” Damian murmured to his brother. He felt himself twitching every so often, when Jonathan would glance his way.

“Honestly? Suspicious.” Richard returned. “I’ll need to look deeper into this history he’s claiming. See if Father and I can get a hold of Clark. Find out about the status of Krypton.” Richard paused, then looked over at him. “Are you honestly interested in him?”

Damian shrugged. “If not for love, then for my personal entertainment.”

“That’s cruel, if he’s genuine.”

“Do you think he is?”

Richard looked back. The knight was bowing to their parents now. Stood, and turned to the two of them to bow again. When he stood upright once more, he gave Damian a wink, then turned to walk back down the aisle and out of the room.

Richard clicked his tongue as Jonathan disappeared out the large door. Glanced at Damian with a sly smile. “…Ask me again after your first date tomorrow.”

Damian groaned and slumped in his throne.

#jondami #jon kent #Damian Wayne #dick grayson #Talia al Ghul #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #Princes au

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incorrectbatfam · 4 years

Note

I feel the need to tell you that given Damian's love for animals, and his feral Younger Sibling Tendencies (TM) I now picture everyone (his siblings, Alfred, random Gotham citizens who meet the smol grumpy Robin) approaching him as one would a feral kitten. Gaining his trust by leaving doors and windows open, leaving treats outside if he doesn't want to come in, until he decides they are Worthy (TM) of his presence.

After that, he does other Feral Animal Things™ such as:

- Sitting on Barbara and Tim’s laptops

- Blocking the door so Bruce and Dick can’t leave for work

- Falling asleep in his siblings’ beds

- Playing fetch with whatever people throw/drop/slingshot

- Lurking in corners

- Groom himself while refusing to let others groom him

- Follow Jon everywhere

#ask #anonymous #damian wayne #robin #batfamily #batfam #batbros #batboys #batkids #batsiblings #batclan #batman family #super sons #dc comics #crack headcanon #tw food mention

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redhoodssweetheart · 4 years

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Common Enemy (1/?)

Genre: Angst with an eventual happy ending, Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers

Relationship: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral!Reader

Requested: Yes (REQUESTS ARE CLOSED)

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: Angst, blood mention, swearing

Description: Red Hood doesn’t seem to trust you and you don’t get why. He’s a complete ass to you, but you’re determined to prove him wrong and show him that you deserve to be a hero like Batman and the others.

A/N: Okay this wasn’t supposed to be a series, but sometimes I am incapable of keeping things short. The story kept growing and getting longer and I said I need to stop here before this is 20K+ words. So this will be the first part, it might just be a mini series, but don’t quote me on that. Enjoy!

Had someone told you that you would be a masked vigilante one day you would have laughed in their face and told them that they were crazy. You didn’t see yourself leaping from rooftop to rooftop with a domino mask on taking down the likes of Joker, Riddler, and Poison Ivy. You were just going to leave that to the professionals.

Then there was the night that had changed your life. The night you had been captured by the Joker had been one of the scariest events in your entire life. You had been prepared to die that night, had hoped the Joker wouldn’t be in the mood to draw out the torture. He had captured you and a few other people who hadn’t managed to be as lucky as you. Maybe the gods were smiling down upon you that night or maybe you just had sheer dumb luck.

Batman and Red Robin and broken through the windows of the warehouse where Joker had you held. Red Robin had helped you escape while Batman did the brunt of the dirty work. You had followed Red Robin to the safety of the outside world. “Commissioner Gordon will be here soon with the GCPD, they’ll take your statement and escort you home.”

You had grabbed Red Robin’s cape to stop him before he could leave you outside alone. “Wait, please.” He turned to you, and for a moment you wished that you could see his eyes, to see if you could discern what he was feeling at the moment. “How do I thank you?”

“It’s just apart of the job, just wait here and everything will be all right.” Then he was heading back for the warehouse to help Batman with whatever was left to deal with.

Commissioner Gordon arrived with backup and he took your statement as Red Robin had predicted and then had an officer escort you back to your apartment. Your brush with danger was over and you were safe… okay well that was a lie.

You couldn’t sleep that night, the thought of Joker and other villains keeping you awake. Grabbing your computer you began to research on the crimes committed in Gotham and how many were like Joker. Page after page on Google was filled with information of Gotham’s underground activity. Riddler, Catwoman, Black Mask, they were all listed and all threats to the safety of those living in your city.

You could no longer sit by as a concerned citizen, your brush with death that night had proven that. No, you needed to be out there doing what Batman and the Robins did, what the Justice League was doing. You were no longer just going to sit on the sidelines and watch as the crime unfolded.

Months were spent on training, you weren’t going to go to Batman without a little background on how to defend yourself. The Dark Knight would probably laugh in your face if you came unprepared and said you wanted to fight crime. When you felt like you were fully prepared to go to him you climbed the building where the GCPD had situated the Bat-Signal and waited.

“Mind telling me what a civilian is doing here?” The voice had come from nowhere, a figure appearing out of the shadows. Batman stood before you, but this time he was alone.

You squared your shoulders and said, “I want to be like you.” He had just stared at you and you twitched slightly. “Look, I know that this is probably crazy to you, but you and Red Robin saved me from Joker a few months back. That entire night I couldn’t sleep thinking about the other people who hadn’t been as lucky as I was. I can’t just sit by while more lives are lost when I could have been doing something all along.”

“Just because you have a reason and the conviction doesn’t mean you’ll be a good candidate for this lifestyle. Take my advice and go home.”

He turned to leave, but you stopped him, “I just want to help. I took a self-defense classes and I’m working through different martial arts. I knew you wouldn’t take me on with no experience. Just give me a shot, a chance to prove to you that I can do this, that I am serious.”

Batman was quiet as he studied you, saw the urgency in your eyes. He nodded his head, “You’ll have a probationary stint, you will not learn our identities, you will train with us, and if I deem you worthy then you can join. Not before and not after.”

Relief surged through you. “Thank you, I won’t let you down.”

Batman promised to find you and a week later you began your training. Red Robin had been surprised to see you enter the Batcave with your gym attire on. Batman had lost his cowl for a domino mask and a suit that he could help train you in. The newest Robin was also in charge of training, and he was ruthless. He tormented you with comments calling you pathetic and a waste of his time.

He was what? Twelve? But he talked as if he were the same age as Batman.

Nightwing was easier to stomach than Robin and even Red Robin showed patience in training you to use the technology. Batman would help you on occasion, but he preferred to watch or wasn’t in the cave at all to fulfill his duties to the city.

“Who’s the newbie?” A voice came from the entrance you came in on nights you were training with the crew. All of you turned to see Red Hood sauntering in. “Did Bats adopt another charity case?”

Anger surged through you, “I’m not a charity case and for your information, I am not a child. I am a grown adult.”

Red Hood snorted, “Sure. So why’s the charity case here?”

Nightwing grabbed your arm and tugged you back as you went to lunge for Red Hood. You didn’t care if he was a member of this team he was an asshole. At least with Robin, he had some shred of respect for you. Red Hood just seemed to want to push your buttons and it was working. “Come on, Y/N,” Nightwing led you back to the sparring ring while Red Hood went to talk with Batman. “Red’s not worth getting riled up over. He’s only saying those things to get a reaction from you, it’s better to just leave it alone.”

You rolled your shoulders and began punching at the gloves on Nightwing’s hands, “Yeah well the jackass could be a little more gentlemanly.”

“I heard that!” Red Hood called over to you.

“Good!” You whirled. “I wanted you to hear it.”

Red Hood removed his hood and looked at you with a blank face. You thought briefly that he was handsome, and the shock of white hair in his bangs added to his look, but then he opened his mouth and ruined it for you, “Listen kid-”

“Kid!” You cried in outrage.

“Why don’t you just stop this nonsense now and go running back to mommy and daddy or whatever place you call home and forget about this,” the room had gone silent listening to Red Hood speak.

Their eyes turned to you now to see how you would respond. Anger burned through your veins, “Who hurt you? Who hurt you so bad that you would insult someone you don’t know and put them down for trying to do something good? To do something right?”

For the first time, you saw a real emotion flash across his face. Anger. He pointed a finger at you, “To you this is some kind of game. Admit it. You see the superheroes and vigilantes running around saving the day and you want that same fame and glory for yourself. You don’t know what it’s actually like. Why don’t you ask Nightwing how he got into this? Or Batman here? Red Robin? Robin? We all have stories that have led us to this moment, a reason that propelled us forward. What caused you to join? Did you want a superhero identity? Bored with your mediocre life that you think becoming one of us will give you the thrill you need?” He scoffed, “Just stop lying to yourself and us and go back to your life.”

You swung down out of the ring and grabbed your stuff, Red Hood smirking and Nightwing calling your name. You stopped in front of Batman and looked up at him. “I’ll be back tomorrow night, but that asshole better not be here.” The smirk slipped from Red Hood’s face as you walked past him and out to the fresh air above.

You furiously swiped at your eyes as angry and frustrated tears rolled down your cheeks. You had done nothing to this man, he hadn’t even heard you out and yet he stood there and said that you didn’t have what it took to be a hero, to protect people. He didn’t even know who you were and he was judging you based on nothing. You took in a deep breath. No more tears. You were going to prove this asshole wrong, you were going to prove that this wasn’t some joke to you.

Back in the Batcave, the others glared at Jason. He looked at them and asked, “What?”

Damian took off his mask and shook his head, “Look, I may not have liked it at first either, but Y/N has come a long way in a short amount of time. They’re working hard to be where they are right now and you just steamrolled them as if they were some type of joke.”

“Oh come on Damian, we’ve seen this before. People who want this lifestyle, who want the glory, but then give up when things become too real for them. It’s the same with this Y/N person.”

Tim shook his head, “Y/N was held captive by the Joker, they watched as he killed five other people before we got there and saved them. We didn’t hear anything out of them until they showed up at the Bat-Signal one night saying they wanted in. They didn’t want to sit by and watch as more people were hurt or injured or killed. Y/N deserves to be here.” With that, he stood and headed upstairs.

“Whatever,” Jason said. “The first night they’re on patrol my point will be proven.”

ONE YEAR LATER

“I would have had him!” You shouted as you and Red Hood stepped into the Batcave. You pulled your mask off and tossed into onto a tabletop. Damian and Dick had been watching the scanners that evening helping you as you had weaved through the city on your motorcycle. “I’ve been chasing this lead on where Joker went and you blew it for me!”

“He wasn’t going to talk!” Red Hood shouted at you. Despite having been on the team for a year and showing Red Hood that you were not just in this for fame or glory he still hated you and refused to reveal his identity.

He didn’t trust you.

And that’s why you refused to work with him. If he didn’t trust you then you couldn’t trust him. Bruce respected your wishes and you mainly went out with Dick or Tim and sometimes even Damian. You got along with the boys and you had gained their trust and respect. The night after Red Hood had chased you away Damian came by your apartment

It had been a shock to see Robin tapping on your window so late into the evening. You quickly let him in and he awkwardly said he had come to check on you. The gesture had surprised you because at the time you thought that Robin didn’t really care for you. The two of you had conversed and Damian then revealed himself to be Batman. The revelation that Bruce Wayne’s son was one of the Robins had given you quite the shock, then it settled in that Batman had to be Bruce Wayne and you had needed to sit down.

Damian wound up staying the night because he had become too tired to travel all the way back across Gotham to get home. Dick had come by in the morning after insisting he come get Damian instead of you bringing him home. The two of you had conversed quietly while Damian still laid sacked out on the couch.

“I’m surprised he told you,” Dick’s arms were crossed over his chest as he stared at the sleeping boy. “Damian doesn’t open up to people easily.”

“I can tell,” you said wryly.

After that moment the others had let you in more and treated you as family. Going so far as to let you stay in the mansion some nights after patrol when you were too tired to go back home. Alfred would bring you your favorite foods and drinks while Damian and you would sometimes sit quietly and read together.

You thought that this would be a step in the right direction with Red Hood, but a year later and the two of you were still bickering with each other.

“What’s it going to take for you to finally trust me and actually let me do what I was trained to do?” You asked him, hands on your hips as you stared him down. After that first encounter with him, you were no longer afraid to throw things back at him. “You said I wouldn’t last, that I was only here for the fame, well guess what Hood? I’m still here and I’m not doing it for the fame! I’m barely in the magazines unlike the rest of you all because I stick to the shadows. I don’t see out the high profile villains unless Bruce asks. I’m doing this to keep Gotham safe.”

“You’re just going to get yourself killed,” he fired back. “You run around Gotham thinking that this is some sort of game-”

“Game?” You shook your head. “This isn’t a game to me Hood, these are real people with real lives that are in danger. I am doing the best I can to make sure those people keep getting to live a life they deserve.”

“You’re still just someone playing dress-up,” was all he said before he left the cave to go back to wherever he called home.

A few weeks after your latest blow up with Jason you were cleaning your gear when Tim came running to you. “Damian’s distress signal just went off. I can’t get a hold of Bruce, Dick’s in San Francisco right now, and Red isn’t answering.”

You were up in a second and throwing on your gear, “I’ll go after him. Send me his last know coordinates and keep trying Red and Bruce. I’ll keep you updated on anything I find.”

Tim nodded and hurried back to his spot and began sending you what you needed. With the coordinates locked into your GPS you sped out of the Batcave and toward Damian’s last known location.

Not ten minutes after you left Jason pulled into the Batcave and was barely off his bike before Tim was rushing him. “Whoa dude! Slow it down! Where’s the fire?”

“Damian’s distress signal went off and Y/N’s gone to find him, but I still can’t get a hold of Bruce to let him know.”

“I’ll follow Y/N, just give me Damian’s last known location.” Jason got back on his bike and headed out of the Batcave following after you and Damian.

You arrived to the dilapidated circus tent five minutes before Jason showed up. You stared up at the torn circus tent and heard the laughing of hyenas somewhere close by. The moment you had arrived you knew who had Damian and it felt like your knees were going to give out on you.

Months spent searching for the Joker and you had finally find him, but only because he had stolen Damian.

There was movement beside you and when you went to strike Red Hood grabbed your arms and pinned you to the wall. “What the hell, Red?” You hissed when it registered that he was here. “How the hell did you find me?”

“Red Robin told me about Robin, I came as soon as I could.” He looked back at the big top and his grip on you loosened enough that you could get free. “Joker has him then.” You noted his hands tightening into fists. “What’s the plan then?”

“What? Not going to argue with me?” You snapped as you turned your attention away from Red Hood.

“Not tonight, this is more important,” you were glad the two of you at least agreed on that.

“Do you think you can cause a distraction?” You questioned. “Something that would let me slip in practically undetected?”

“You wish is my command,” he pulled out one of the guns strapped to his waist. “Don’t move until the chaos starts. Robin is probably being held somewhere in the back of the big top. Joker would want to get who Batman is out of him. Let me know when you have him.”

You nodded your head and watched as Jason dashed off toward the tents. You counted silently in your head waiting for the moment you heard gunshots and screaming. Red Hood wouldn’t cause enough of a distraction to bring Joker’s entire army down on him, but you were hoping it was enough to pull most of the people away from Damian.

A loud gunshot rang through the night and then there were more. You could hear semi-automatic weapons going off and shouting as more people headed Red Hood’s way. Taking this as the distraction you needed, you headed in the opposite direction. You slipped inside the semi-dark tent and followed the winding pathways of boxes and junk around.

Damian was nowhere to be seen yet, and you hadn’t run into any of the guards, Red was holding them off nicely for you. You ducked behind some crates when you heard a voice coming out from behind one of the curtains leading to the back of the big top.

“.... hehe our plan is working perfectly. He’s here for the boy, make sure there’s no one else with him.”

“Yes boss,” another voice said before the sound of retreating footsteps met your ears. The first voice headed back the way you had come from while the second headed in Jason’s direction. You knew the first voice was Joker, thanking your lucky stars you headed toward the back where they had come from.

Once there you took a few turns and discovered a larger room filled with costumes and clown makeup and in the middle tied to a chair was Damian. “Robin,” you rushed toward him and began sawing at the ropes with one of the knives you kept on you. He had blood running out the side of his mouth, and his uniform was torn in several places with knife cuts in his skin. It had been clear that Joker had started torturing him. “Robin, can you hear me?”

He groaned, “No, it’s a trap.”

“Shhhh,” you caught him as he fell forward. “Red Hood’s distracting the others, Joker just left this area. Come on, we’re going home.”

“Ah ah ah,” a voice came from behind you and when you turned you saw Joker standing there with a knife in his hands. “Why leave when we’re just getting started?”

You moved so that Damian was behind you, “You’re going back to Arkham where you belong, you sick son of a bitch.”

The Joker threw back his head and laughed, “It’s cute that you actually think I’m going back there. No, no you see I’ve had some time to plan this just right. “I was hoping the Bat would be here so that I could kill him, but this works too. I’ve done it before, I’ve killed one of his little Robins.”

“Yeah well it didn’t stick,” Red Hood was behind Joker now. You didn’t know how he had managed to sneak up behind Joker, but he had a gun held to the back of his head. “Come on Joker, did you really think those d-list goons you call your henchmen could outsmart us?”

Joker seemed put out by the fact that Red Hood had called his men d-listers. “You’ll never make it out of here alive. The boy is going to be dead weight. Look at him he can barely stand.” His laughter echoed in your ears and it grated on your nerve so much that you threw Joker to the ground and held a knife to his throat, Joker seemed thrilled by this.

“I should slit your throat and call it a night,” you growled. “You’re nothing but a stain on humanity and the world wouldn’t mourn you.”

Red Hood pulled you off of Joker, “Get Damian, we need to go. GCPD will be here soon and can clear this place out.” He aimed his gun at Joker and tightened his grip, “Hope you didn’t piss anyone off at Arkham before you left because they’re gonna have a field day when you get back.”

“What’s the fun in life without a few enemies?” Joker’s statement made your face twist up in disgust. How had society let this man live? Red Hood tied Joker to the same chair that Damian had been in so that the GCPD could take care of him.

Jason covered you as the three of you headed for the exit, he took out a few guards, but for the most part the place seemed pretty quiet. “Most of the guards I incapacitated while you were looking for Robin. We should be clear unless backup is on the way.”

You were relieved to hear that he had taken most of the guards. With Red Hood watching your back the two of you managed to slip out unnoticed by a large group of Joker’s goons and back to your bikes. Red Hood helped you secure Damian to your bike and the three of you sped away before the GCPD arrived on the scene. When you glanced back you could have sworn you saw part of the tent on fire. It was in the part that had been on the farther side away from where you had found Damian and the Joker.

“Red?” You said into the comms. “Did you set the tent on fire?”

There was the sound of his chuckle, “Maybe. Maybe I wanted to see the whole damn thing burn to the ground.”

You couldn’t blame him, you wanted to watch it burn to the ground too. Something in the back of your mind told you that the Joker wasn’t done yet with you or Red Hood, but you didn’t want to focus on that at the moment. All you wanted was to get Damian back home so Alfred could check him over for any internal damage.

#Jason Todd x Reader #Jason Todd x Reader angst #Red Hood x Reader #Red Hood x Reader angst #Jason Todd fanfic #Jason Todd fanfiction #Jason Todd Imagine #Red Hood #Red Hood fanfic #Red Hood fanfiction #Red Hood imagine #Red Hood angst #DC Comics #DC Comics fanfic #DC Comics fanfiction #DC Comics Imagine #Requested

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modernsuperhero · 5 years

Text

DC’s Dark Olympus

Everyone knows of Wonder Woman and her gods. But the citizens of Gotham know that the city is her own dark Olympus, ruled from the skies by young gods only just coming into their power.

They know of the goddess of womanhood, the goddess of love, the goddess of red. She sits atop a throne of her own, a throne forged in the flames of a never-ending war. Her priests have hair dyed wild colors. They wear camo pants and leather jackets, armed with years of rejection plated upon them like armor. They will love whom and how they choose. They take in children chased out of their homes and call them by their true names. A paper written at birth is no definition of an existence, they say, and their goddess approves. When they are brave enough to wave their flags of victory their goddess watches over them, protecting her chosen people. Her prophets carry bruises and scars from men who saw them as property owed to them. They carry weights in their chests and flinch away from all touch. When they cry out, their goddess comes. She will protect her people, those who worship her. She is their goddess.

They know of the twin goddesses of choice. The goddesses who rejected their fathers and created their own paths. One, the goddess of giving up, of sacrificing for the better of others. She watches over young parents, single mothers, and unclaimed children. Girls too young with men too old find themselves in the presence of the young golden-haired goddess. She is a goddess of choice and light. The other, the goddess of taking, of embracing opportunity to create new good. The frightening figure rarely speaks but with juveniles heading down an evil path, young gang runners and children pilfering drugs and stealing to survive. She creates better options where before there were none, and vanishes into the shadows from whence she came. She is a goddess of choice and darkness.

They know the god of the weak, the god of the unavenged and estranged, the god of those born into which they cannot escape. He is two sides of a coin. To the innocent, he is a herald of hope for a new day. He does not chase away the nightmares and the threats but destroys them completely. He defends children and the poor. He protects those whom none have any concern, the addicts and the prostitutes and the homeless. To the guilty, he is a devil from hell, an angel fallen into a pool of blood and bullets. He hunts men and women alike without mercy, without rest, and without fail he will find them. The extortionists, rapists, kidnappers and abusers all shake at the mention of his name. He is not the god of the strong for the strong need no protector. He is the god of the weak, for he is the strongest of them all.

They know of the god of innocence, the god of kindness and compassion. Even those outside of Gotham cry out for him when they are in need, and to them he goes. He is the hero of the young. He is to whom the children pray when they, too, desire to be heroes. His is the name shouted at the rooftops by lost youth. He is the bird that swoops down to catch them when they fall, or when they jump. The young god in blue is said to mourn the loss of his own innocence, and thus he protects it in others. His followers believe he shares a piece of his soul with every human he has saved. That is the power of the god of kindness.

They know of the goddess of tenacity, of persistence. They know of the prophet who was denied the chance to help at every turn, only to become their saving grace through sheer relentlessness. They know of the young god she became, a human gifted immortality, and the body that was cruelly ripped from her. They know of the young god’s mind that still lurks in the streets, her spirit haunting their computers and cameras, in their files and in the dark unseen places of the city she called home. But a mortal man, however insane, cannot kill a goddess. She has only evolved, for she is the goddess of tenacity, and she will never lay down and die.

They know of the god of trust, the god of truth and secrets. He stalks the city as he has all his life, collecting people to protect himself, collecting secrets to protect his people. He chases after lost gods and returns them to their places. He metes out truth as justice, uncovering secret crimes and dissolving lies for those who cannot. In equal measure he protects secrets, protects hidden truths, and protects the trust that relies on those secrets. None can keep things hidden from him. He is the god of secrets.

They know of the child god, the youngest god, and the god of potential. He is the god of choice, the choice between forgiveness or vengeance. He is the god of hate born of a society that does not care, that takes and takes and never gives, but also the god of deep love for life, beautiful in its sheer and simple existence, human or otherwise. He is the god of innocence lost and regained, of innocence preserved versus innocence mourned. He is the god of determination, the god of proving to the world and to oneself, over and over again, that worthiness is earned; that no lottery, of birth or otherwise, makes that worthiness inherent. He is the god of trust rebuilt, painstakingly, but rebuilt nevertheless. They do indeed know of the child god, the heir to the world.

They know of the god of eternity. He is the god of death. He is the god of legacy. He is the god of a name that is more than a name, that is a symbol, that is immortal. He is the king of the gods in this dark Olympus. He reigns over the cloudy, smog-choked sky and the seedy underground where demons come to play. The waters in Gotham Bay reflect nothing from him, for who, even in the water, could properly portray such a god? He is Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades all together. In their dominance, in their rage, in their mercy hand-in-hand with retribution, he is Gotham’s true ruler, and so he will be forever more.

The world may be infested with aliens and magic, this Gotham’s children know. But the disciples of this dark Olympus fear nothing, for they have their gods to protect them.

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pocket-clown · 4 years

Text

Physical & personality traits Arthur & Joker would like in a partner;

// original request: What are the ideal personality and physical traits Joker/Arthur would look for in a partner?

thank you, anon!

I tried to keep these somewhat vague; I didn’t want to list specific traits because I do not want anyone to feel excluded.

Arthur;

Personality;

Kindness, without a doubt, is the biggest thing. Arthur, down to his very core, is a softhearted man, and his life has had such a lacking of that sort of thing that he needs a partner who could give him what he’s been missing. He wouldn’t be able to be with anyone cruel.

Someone who’s gentle, both physically and behaviorally. It’s sort of like kindness; his life has been so burdened with the harsh roughness that is Gotham and trauma, so having a partner that contrasts that - a solace, if you will - and is able to shush his overwhelming thoughts just ever so slightly enough that they aren’t absolutely suffocating is a must-have for Arthur. He loves affection from you.

Patience, understanding, and open-mindedness. With the stigma that surrounds mental illness and his struggles regarding his disorder, he feels even more isolated than he may have if he wasn’t mentally ill. Knowing that he has you, someone who’s there for him, who’ll listen to him, who won’t judge, or rush, or yell at him just for being Arthur means more to him than he’d ever be able to express.

Humor!! This is an obvious one. You don’t need to be a complete goofball 24/7 or anything, but a partner who’s able find humor in things is a big deal to Arthur. If his partner was someone who never laughed, or was someone he couldn’t make laugh, then he’d feel that he was, in a way, not doing his job.

Someone who can empathize (or at least sympathize) with others. Like kindness, sympathy and empathy are scarce in Gotham, so it would be one of the first things that would draw him to someone. Seeing you actually care about someone other than yourself would make his heart throb with love as it was such a rare occurrence in Gotham - especially if it was directed at him.

Physical;

I’ll say this - at the end of the day, looks are inconsequential to Arthur. He loves you for you; so pure in essence are you that it makes your physical appearance beautiful to him - and the beauty of the heart trumps the beauty of the face, to Arthur. Looks matter very little to him, at the end of the day, so I’ll give you this;

Soft, warm skin. Something tangible that he could touch whenever he needed to ground himself; something to prove that yes, you really were there with him, and that no, you weren’t a delusion. Something warm and soft to combat the cold, grittiness that’s made up the majority of his life.

A bright smile. The way your smile lights up your face whenever you see him after a long day could kill him with how beautiful it was, and knowing that he was the cause of it never failed to make his day. He’s got a soft spot for dimples, so if you’ve got those, it’s a bonus!

Kind eyes. Harsh glares of nothing but judgement and disdain are what’s dished out regularly in Gotham, so having someone truly look at him with eyes full of nothing but warmth makes him feel that maybe, just maybe, he’s worthy of a little more kindness than what he’s been given in life.

Gentle hands to hold his, to comb through his hair, to rub his back during his fits. No one, aside from his mother, has ever touched him, unless you consider the countless beatings he’s taken, and he’s touch starved beyond belief. Once he’s warmed up to the relationship, he’ll never be able to get his fill of your touch - even if it’s just your hand brushing against his shoulder for half a second as you pass by.

Joker;

Personality;

Someone who’s kind and empathetic. It was made loud and clear in his tirade on the Murray show; Gotham is awful. No one ever puts themselves in the shoes of the other guy - no one ever thinks what it’s like to be the person they’re beating down on. Kindness is rare, and empathy even rarer, so those are major things for Joker when it comes to finding a partner.

Gentle. Gotham is rough. Life is rough. Arthur Fleck knew no gentleness, and neither will Joker, now; unless his s/o is just that. It’s one of the only consolations for him; to be able to return to your gentle, loving arms at the end of the day, and it’s one he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

Humor - but preferably a dark sense of it. Humor and laughter are things that remain important to him - but his humor is much drier, much darker, now, so having a s/o who could appreciate his oddball sense of humor is ideal.

Someone who isn’t afraid to take risks. Joker would never do anything that put your life in danger - he places the value of your safety and comfort above everything else - but having a partner who’d be able to just say fuck it and let loose every now and then would be magnificent.

Someone who isn’t afraid to speak their mind. Though he gets it; when he was Arthur, he kept his thoughts, his opinions, his wants and his needs to himself for the most part as to not burden others, but to him, for you to be able to open up and share your thoughts with him, to tell him what you needed, what you wanted, what you desired - to him, it meant that you trusted him. He'll encourage you so gently to open up; not wanting to rush you, but also wanting you to know that it's okay for you to be honest with him.

Physical;

Soft, warm skin. He’s much less shy about touching you now, and he loves seeing what his touch alone does to you. Unless you’re uncomfortable with it and/or ask him not to, he’ll almost always have his hands on you in someway; resting on your thigh as you’re seated on his lap, underneath the hem of your shirt as his fingers gently brush along the skin of your hip, rubbing your back as you two cuddle at night; he just loves to feel you and know that you’re safe.

Soft lips. Unsurprisingly, Joker would love to kiss his s/o. His absolute favorite way of greeting you is going right up to you, cupping your face in his hands so he can press his lips to yours until you're practically melting against him, your hands clenching the lapel of his suit jacket as your legs trembled.

A gaze that sees him for him. Now that he’s Joker and no longer just Arthur, a large amount of Gotham’s citizens view him as a symbol; they see him as the leader of their rebellion, a symbol against Gotham’s rich - and those that don’t, view him as a villain - but regardless of which of the two someone views him as, they never truly see him. He can tell when someone’s looking right through him and seeing only what they want to see, so if someone were to look at him with eyes that saw him as he truly was - someone in pain, someone who never wanted things to turn out how they had - it would actually stun him. He wants to be seen.

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taglist;

@tahliamalfoydepp @tsukiakarinobara @smol-nari @ajokeformur-ray @lavenderheartz @lady-carnivals-stuff @darknessisafriend @emissarydecksetter @soulsdontbreaktheybeeend

(let me know if you'd like to be added!)

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x you #joker #joker 2019 #joker x reader #joker x you #joker 2019 x reader #joker 2019 x you #arthur fleck headcanon #joker headcanons #mine

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victor-of-latveria · 5 years

Text

A Worthy Challenge

Earth had been subject to a cornucopia of oddities during its history. Secret kingdoms, invasions, and wars had painted a unique tapestry in the multiverse. Dimensions and timelines would fluctuate at a whim by the actions of men who did not know the full scope of their power. It was a history and a world that only he, Doctor Doom, could manage. But in all of his years with dealing with Atlanteans, gamma irradiated monstrosities, gods and demons, this would perhaps be the first time he could see a crisis beginning to form.

The energy readings earliest connection point was in Manhattan. He quickly eliminated that a fool like Richards was already dealing with raw multiversal energy. He had hoped to send his own machines to read it when a unique individual came to Latervia’s border. He claimed to another Captain Marvel, but he did not resemble the Kree soldier or any of his affiliations. The man seemed just as confused and instead of wielding alien technology, the man was knowledgeable in the mystic arts. Still, he used his power for brute force and energy blasts. He may have been strong, but Steven Strange, the man was not.

Having successfully stopped the attack and sending the fraudulent Marvel away, Doom had moved himself to his war room to assess the scope of what was going on. Lined with hyper advanced technology the world could not even fathom, Doom had made sure that his defenses would be top of the line for his nigh impregnable fortress. It was here that he could see the extent of the crisis at hand.

The first of these multiversal energy signs began popping up in Manhattan, then Westchester. Soon the globe had reports of people vanishing and being replaced by foreigners, not noble and vile. After several scans of from his satellites and Doom was able to see the same residue of multiversal energy clinging to these people, such as the Captain he had faced earlier.

“Boris.” Doom called out. His trusted servant came at once, never too far away and relieved that Latveria’s ruler had returned victorious from the intruder. “The city’s defenses must be doubled. We must send a patrol squad and see if our citizens are all accounted for.”

The world was focused on the larger populous. Figures like the Avengers, X-Men, and higher profile individuals would be the first to be noticed. The smaller ones, the citizens of the world and beyond, would be overlooked. If something had managed to penetrate his land’s defenses, to actually steal any Latverian man, woman or child from their homes, Doom would see to it that whoever was responsible would pay dearly.

Boris obeyed, moving quickly to see that Doom’s commands were met. Doom was already working on his plans. The man he had fought used magic in a very foreign way and was powerful. If this was one of several champions this foreign world had to offer, than he would need to arm himself with the best countermeasures. As he surveyed the computer monitors, something flashed for a fraction of a moment. To an untrained eye and mind, it could have been a flicker of the monitor. Doom had neither. With the world erupting into chaos and anomalies cropping up all across the world, it was foolhardy to assume anything was a coincidence. Doom inspected the screen closely. His firewall security appeared to be fine with no detection of any errors. Still…he best be sure.

“Computer, scan for any unauthorized access to our main database.”

“Scanning…” Doom waited, his eyes glued to the monitor. Only a few had access to his personal database, which contained a number of Latervian secrets and plans. He had made sure to encrypt the files and protect the computer security to his exact specifications. Many would covet such information but time and again, Doom had blocked even the supposed best of the Avengers and the Fantastic Four from his database.

“Scan complete. One unauthorized user detected. Shall I expel the user?”

How curious…Someone was sneaking around his files and doing so silently. It quickly eliminated the possibility of someone Doom was familiar with to be doing this. It wasn’t flashy or bombastic enough to have any hint of Stark, Xavier or any of Doom’s other foes. It was more than likely one of the visitors snooping around. Perhaps this would prove interesting and educational.

“Begin to track the signal to its source” Doom stated, regaining his composure. “Quietly of course. We wouldn’t want our guest to know their unwanted quite yet. Create a package to send our curious friend, and be sure to bring their progress up on the main screen. Keep me notified of the trace as well.”

The war room table projector flickered, setting aside the world map that marked all the recent appearances and vanishing. A new globe took its place, hovering and slowly turning as the trace activated. The main monitor was now showing his personal files, all encrypted and monitored. Doom would be alerted when anyone tried to access them and if necessary, halt their progress. However this hacker had not stumbled across any of his traps…

Doom couldn’t help but feel charmed by this fascinating mind. It was very different from what he was used to dealing with.

“Master, the signal is not in Europe.”

Doom said nothing, continuing to watch the screen with morbid curiosity. Each file contained vital information for ruling Latveria. Manufacturing and trade routes, war plans to send his robotic servants and the proud soldiers of Latveria would need them. Even his recent designs on the Doombot models were part of this so he could continue his continued conquest of peace. There were many tantalizing options for this hacker to look over. But what would they choose?

“North America confirmed.”

“Continue to triangulate the signal.” He could see that there was finally some silent activity. Doom watched as the someone was attempting to hack into his machine blueprints and components. The Doombots were there, but so were his more advances such as the modified Time Platform and his Titanium Armor. A host of valuable information was behind these encryptions and not a single tripwire was being undone. Doom was certainly impressed, knowing if he had not been paying attention to the monitors, he likely would not have known this hack was even happening.

“Source of signal located in New Jersey. Continuing to triangulate the signal. The package is ready.”

New Jersey? Doom couldn’t help but feel some modicum of relief, knowing it wasn’t in Manhattan. He continued to watch as tripwire and traps were avoided again and again by this hacker. Their skills were exceptional. It was a pity that they were likely from this other world. They would have been valuable under his guidance.

Surprise hit him when the monitor flickered once again. The file had opened. Project names and blueprints were available to someone other than a Latverian citizen. For a brief moment, Doom wondered if he should cut the feed now. Any second this person saw their plans was a second an enemy of Latveria could undo his glorious conquest.

The games had to come to an end eventually.

“Triangulation complete. Awaiting orders.”

~ ~ ~

Barbara Gordon had to count her blessings, even if she was sucked into another world. The technology was thankfully close to her world’s level. The names on the tech didn’t say Kord or Wayne, usually saying Stark or Hammer. The learning curve was hardly an issue and given enough time, Barbara knew she could handle any monitor and keyboard at her disposal.

Instead of her clocktower, Barbara had to set up a temporary base in the back of “Lee’s Crazy Computers!”, a computer store that was eager to move their wears quickly. After a quick cover story about a local library upstate wanting to buy several computers, local librarian, “Ms. Amy Beddoes” was doing a stress test on the computers and modem before placing an order she had to. In reality, if Barbara wanted to find out what was going on and what world she was in, she was going to use every trick in the book and gather all the information she could. This was the first time she had even been to another world, but Bruce had been on enough multiversal adventures to find two surefire ways to determine the history of the world: the introduction of superheroes and any significant Joker kills.

In place of Superman, Captain America, the Human Torch and Namor were the first superbeings of note. Events already played out different during World War Two when they showed up, but there was no hint of any Gotham City or Joker. She began to compare and contrast, jotting down notes and names. There was no Gotham City, but New York housed several superhero teams and practically stepped on each other. In place of the Justice League, there was a team called the Avengers.

Yet in every search she did, one country and one man kept coming up: the leader of Latveria, Doctor Victor von Doom. According to her search, Doom was a super genius whose accomplishments would make Lex Luthor blush. He was responsible for dozens of crimes but saved due to his diplomatic immunity, magical feats, and his technological prowess. He was astonished and knew what had to be done.

Getting into Latveria’s database was hard enough and even harder to sneak around undetected. The encryptions were top notch and she had used every play in the book to make sure she hadn’t been discovered. With Doom’s schematics at her fingertips, she could look them over, print them out, and go from there. If she could get enough information from Doom’s database, she could either use this as a bargaining chip with the Avengers or perhaps even find a way to barter this information leak to have Doom send her home if the information she had gathered was skewed. Bruce had told her enough times to not always judge the world on the loudest voice.

As Barbara went to scroll down, the monitor glitched. She froze, staring cautiously at the screen. Was the modem taxed from the long distance hack? Tentatively, she clicked the sidebar, only to realize the screen was moving at a snail’s pace. After another second, everything came to a halt. Her heart seized, realizing what this meant. Barbara looked around and reached for the modem line to tear it out of the computer, but it was too late.

The once colorful blue/grey screen went completely black. Three words in green appeared in the middle…and then again a few inches to the left, and again right. It began to replicate itself again and again. Soon the screen was littered with the same three words.

Doom is Absolute.

She’d been found out. Not only was she booted, but Doom had sent her a virus that had fried the modem by clogging it with the message. It certainly spoke to how vain and smart Doom was to destroy a computer with only three words.

Barbara shut off the monitor, glancing around to make sure no one saw what she had done. She had names of projects but that was all. She sighed, shaking her head. Whoever Doom was, it was safe to say he wouldn’t be happy that he had been hacked. She’d need to play it safe until she found a way back home. This world had now had its first encounter with Oracle, and she had just met someone that was her relative match…for now anyways.

#virtualbatgirl #Victor Von Doom #Oracle #Barbara Gordon #commision #submission

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lil-nest · 6 years

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Summary: When Talia's young son loses his leg and she leaves him in an alley for his father to find, she doesn't expect the GCPD to find him first. When Officer Dick Grayson finds an amputated child in an alley, he doesn't expect Jason Todd's advice to be "foster him". Both those things happen anyway.

Notes: Written for Batfam Week 2018, Day 4:AU Warning for child abandonment, non-graphic amputation, League of shadow-typical ableism (which does not reflect the author’s opinion in any way, shape or form) and a little bit of swearing.

“I'm sorry, lady Talia, but there's only so much we can do. No one ever tried to transplant a whole leg before, and even though the leg matches his DNA perfectly, the procedure just failed.”

Talia grit her teeth at the memory. Oh how cathartic it had been to kill that scientist.

“I'm sorry, Lady Talia, but we can't try again. His body went through too much stress during the first few attempts, and we don't have anything new to try this time. We did all we could, but lord Damian will not get his leg back.”

She hadn't killed this one. Her father had stilled her hand before she could.

“Daughter, you know it is no use. It is time for you to let go of the boy. He will no longer be able to serve the League.”

“But father, he was shaping up to be a great heir. Making a new one will set back our plans...”

“We will not make a new one. The detective has been training his stray, and the boy has a lot of potential... he might even become a better detective than his mentor, and he seems more susceptible than Wayne ever was... It won't take much to say him to my side, and he'll make a perfect heir. Your son, on the other hand, is no more than a liability now. We can't even plant him in the Detective's house, now that he has a worthier heir. Kill him, or I will.”

Talia al Ghul did not cry. She had not cried since infancy. But the idea of killing her child...

Maybe he had become a liability. After all, she was risking everything to save his life.

She had taken him from the lab, claiming she wanted to give him a death worthy of a warrior. Instead, she had put him on plane headed to Gotham and had presented the corpse of a clone to her father.

She set him down in the shadows, where she knew Batman's patrol would take him. She didn't know if her Beloved would recognize him as his own – she somewhat hoped he wouldn't – but she knew he would make sure he was safe. It was all she could give her son now.

She forgot to take the police patrols into account.

Sometimes, when Dick worked overtime and Jason had nothing planned for evening, he'd let himself in the cop's apartment and cook him a nice warm meal. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement: He got both the pleasure of trying out new recipes and a free meal – sometimes two or three, when he let himself be talked into taking the leftovers home – and Dick could have something other than cereal after a long shift.

Dick would talk about paying him for those every once in a while, but Jason always called bullshit. They were at that point in their friendship when nobody knew exactly who owed who what favors and they just did things for each other – or, more accurately, they both knew exactly what the other did for them but they couldn't agree on which favor compensated which.

Of course, talking about such things was unthinkable between two emotionally constipated ex-foster kids, so Jason just claimed it was payment for the times his masked self showed up at the fire escape asking for a patch-up job.

This would inevitably get Dick to stutter and claim that if an illegal vigilante had ever presented themselves at his window – which they hadn't, thank you – then as an officer of police, of course he would have arrested them, and if, hypothetically, he had decided to break his vows and help said non-existent vigilante, then he certainly would not know their identity, but the point was moot, anyway, since Jason was not, in fact, stupid enough to be part of any hypothetical vigilante group picking up Batman's slack in Crime Alley.

The rant would then be followed by an abrupt change of subject, and Dick would swiftly send Jason home with all the leftovers instead of only half, and tell him to come by with laundry some time.

Jason would call it a win, and would even even be kind enough not to mention the fact that Dick said “Batman's slack” and not “the police's”, as though he had given up on the force ever setting foot there.

That particular evening, Jason was sitting in Dick's couch while his soup simmered, reading about his exploits in the paper – seriously, who put an article about his people struggling to survive next to crappy suppositions about Timothy Drake-Wayne's “secret life”? – when the man came home.

If Jason hadn't been so worried, he would have wondered what it said about him that he knew something was wrong just from the way he closed the door and the lack of greeting.

A moment passed, and he was just about to go check that Dick wasn't dead when the man walked up to him and threw himself on the couch.

“Rough day?”

He was treated to an empty look he hadn't seen since he had last seen his friend wake up from a nightmare back in the home.

“There was a kid...”, Dick eventually said.

Jason winced. Cases involving children were always hard, but Dick usually coped by crying on his shoulder. Whatever had shaken him enough to make him shut down his emotions must have been messed up – even by Gotham standards.

“A boy, four year old – five at the most. Found him in a gutter in a back alley. He was.. god, he was missing a leg.”

Jason's blood ran cold.

“Some new psycho killer, you think?”

“No, Jason, no, he was alive. And the leg... it was cut clean, “fresh surgical amputation” the medic said. Coated with antiseptic, properly bandaged, hell, they're making a blood work because they think he might have been given antibiotics. Jason, it's like this kid got in an accident, got amputated and treated in an hospital, and then just tossed out!”

There were the tears. It was progress, at least.

Jason didn't like where he thought this was going, but asked anyway:

“You think his parents abandoned him on the streets because he lost his leg, don't you?”

“I can't know that. Maybe the leg and his current situation have no link. Maybe he just got kidnapped while leaving the hospital and the kidnappers realized he would need treatment to stay alive and didn't want complications so they just threw him out. Maybe there is a psycho out there who gets off on cutting off kid's members, then pretending to save them by treating them and then leaving them to die in the streets, but...”

“But you know both these scenarios are less likely than assholes deciding their kid was not worth the inconvenience or the cost.”

Dick stayed silent. Jason decided to change the subject.

“Did you try talking to the kid?”

“I did. He wasn't coherent. It might have been shock, but... whatever he was trying to say, it didn't sound like it was even meant to be English.”

“Maybe that's it, maybe the parents are illegal immigrants and can neither earn enough money to take care of him nor benefit from healthcare.”

“But then how did they get him treated in an hospital? Their identity would have been controlled. No, Jason, whoever did this had enough money and rights to get this kid surgery and medicine, which means they also had enough money and rights to take care of him afterwards. They decided to leave him to either die or get thrown into the system. Jason, you know what's going to happen to him. No one will want to adopt or foster a disabled, potentially traumatized kid who can't even speak English, and GCPS has neither the means nor the willingness necessary to give him the help he'll need. He won't even end up like us, Jason, he'll end up worse!”

“Not if you do something about it” he countered.

Now, the thing with Jason was, he was a firm believer in taking things in his own hands. Always had been, really. His mom was too high to make them food? No problem, he could teach himself how to cook. No more food money? Well, hello there, Bat-tires, sitting there, prime for the jacking. The foster parents beat the smaller kids? Associate with eldest foster brother to beat them back. Now-ex foster brother wanted to give up on his dream to become a cop? Nothing was as easy as getting himself arrested at a strategic time so Dick could “accidentally” bump into his idol while bailing him out. Neither Batman nor the GCPD would protect the citizen of crime alley? Meet Red Hood and his Outlaws.

So of course Jason would suggest doing something – probably stupid – when someone complained something was unfair. It usually didn't matter how out there his ideas were, because Dick was always there to act as a voice of reason. He just forgot that said reason tended to disappear when Dick was upset, leaving him incredibly susceptible.

“And what exactly do you suggest I do about this?”

“Well, you're a registered foster parent, aren't you? Take him in.”

Dick startled.

“I'm sorry, what? I can't just take in a kid on a whim! Besides I only got registered so we could ensure children involved in a case didn't disappear into the ether before we were done like I almost did after my parents died.”

Ah, there was the voice of reason Jason knew and loved.

“With that being said, the kid is currently involved in a case. I could take him in just until we close it. It would give his social worker time to find a somewhat appropriate home for him. And maybe if he spends enough time with me it'll help him trust me and we might find a way to communicate...”

Never mind.

Dick deflated.

“We both know if I take him I'll end up getting attached and won't be able to bring myself to let him get lost in the system, though.” A dry, humorless laugh. “I'm pretty sure that's the kind of emotional investment the academy warned us about”

Dick's internal war would have been hilarious if the subject hadn't been so serious. Jason felt the need to intervene, since it was a little bit his fault, too.

“Eh, screw the academy anyway. You've always wanted to be a dad, and I'm pretty sure the only reason you haven't adopted yet is because you know you'll get attached to every kid you see and won't be able to chose. This might just be your chance!”

“I know, and it's very tempting, but... I'm a single man with a dangerous, time-sucking job, and my budget's not too tight, but it's not that loose.”

“You know you can work around all of those if you try. Look, I'm not saying you should up and adopt right now, but maybe give it a thought? The kid's due for a few more days in the hospital, right? Take that time to think about it, talk about it with his worker a bit, and if you find out you still want to after that, just foster the kid until the case is closed. It'll let you see if you can find a solution for the job and the money thing, and most importantly if you click with the kid. Then when the case is closed you'll know what to do. Hell, if you're worried you'll end up too attached to take a rational decision, I promise I'll be the devil's advocate.”

Dick snorted.

“Right. You haven't met him, Jay. He'll have you wrapped around his little fingers soon enough.”

“Hey, if he's able to melt my stone cold heart, then he'll deserve a place beside the only other person who did, right?”

Dick laughed.

“Alright. But you get to be the babysitter while I investigate.”

“I'm sorry, but you're supposed to find a workable arrangement, and I happen to have a job that I like and almost pays my bills. I'm not ready to become a full-time babysitter until the kid hits eighteen. I might, however, be willing to do emergency babysitting every once in a while.”

“It's a deal then.”

A week later, Jason's phone vibrated, startling the cat he was holding into fleeing. Once the animal had been safely caught and given to its new owner, he checked, silently promising retribution to the asshole who had almost ruined a perfect adoption.

It was a text from Dick.

“I'll be picking Damian at Gotham's General on Monday. I hope you're free this Saturday, because we're going shopping ;p”

Somehow, his stupid ideas always came back to bite him in the ass.

#batfamweek2018 #day 4:AU #amputation #ableism #child abandonment #light swearing #alternate universe #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne

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