Writer. Mostly angst, whump, hurt, and the likes. Occasionally throw in my short, unpolished works here as well as some alternate/deleted bits.
AO3: Lulaypp
Other Tumblr: foriland
Summary: After arriving on the island, Leon had finally found Ashley and used the last of the plaga suppressant. But before he could do anything else the parasite in him decided to kick into gear and tear at his body, pain and exhaustion threatening to make him black out. Yet he couldn’t collapse now, not when they weren’t safe.
(Takes place during RE4, just as Leon found Ashley on Los Illuminados island.)
Warnings: Blood and Injury, Mentions of Past Characters' Deaths
Summary: A failed mission ended up with Red Hood severely injured and buried under the remnants of a collapsed building, as well as an incapacitated Batman and an unconscious Robin, whose presence had been due to his request for back-up. And it all took a turn for the worse when their minutes were numbered.
Sending out the distress call had been a mistake. A mistake that might cost the lives of a father and a brother.
Warnings: Blood and Injury, Hurt No Comfort, Major Character Death
Summary: On hindsight, Jason probably should have heeded his injuries from the previous night and stayed in. Maybe he should have swallowed his pride and asked for some Bat-assistance. But 20/20 was stupid, he was already in this situation and didn’t want to think of mistakes and regrets. Besides, the Bats and him were tenuous allies at best, nothing more. No reason for them to answer his call for help.
Or: In which Jason gets injured, caught, tortured and rescued, all while denying that he had a family despite the evidence to the contrary.
Warnings: Torture, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort (With an emphasis on the Hurt), Vomiting, Further warnings in the fic tags.
Summary: Wind Archer Cookie barely managed to escape from Dark Enchantress Cookie's base with a small, temporary victory and a message. Yet, his actions hadn't gone unnoticed by the Cookies of Darkness, who were less than willing to let him leave Beast-Yeast.
Neither Damian nor Jason were keen on the escape plan. Not only were they forced to leave Talia behind in enemy territory, they were supposed to seek refuge from a virtual stranger: the fabled Bat of Gotham City. Yet they had no choice but to trust Talia's plan and head to Wayne Manor with nothing but stolen weapons and rations, their own bleeding and injured bodies, and the League of Assassins on their tail.
Even so, Jason couldn't help but doubt Talia's trust in The Bat, their risky plan and destination, and his own ability to keep both Damian and himself alive.
Warnings: Graphic violence, Blood, Various injuries, Major Character Death, Hurt No Comfort
Summary:
No matter how many cards he had drawn, they always ended up being the same blank, dark cards. Pure blackness.
Yet it was almost alive, heavy and breathing, moving slowly.
Cold darkness reaching out, speaking, whispering, slowly enshrouding him like the Yoghurt of Rebirth.
But nothing was visible. Empty they were. Like him.
Summary: After Jason had publicly rejected the offer to join the False Facers, the most feared and prestigious social circle in the high school, he had been roughly shoved into the wall of a near barren hallway. He was ready to brush it off as a mere accident, but it kept on happening. A shove, a push, an attempt to trip.
Despite Artemis insisting that he do something about it, he was bent on ignoring the threats.
It wasn’t like anything that Sionis had done had been directly life threatening. Sure, Jason would prefer it if his stuff remained untouched, but he knew that it would soon blow over.
Those kinds of things usually do.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Pulang Ke Bumi
Rating: General Audiences
Summary: Selepas mengalahkan Lima Panglima Scammer dan Probe memberitahu mereka yang kedua-dua robot disitu sudah rosak, Boboiboy dan kawan-kawannya terus cuba mencari cara untuk pergi dari bulan dan balik semula ke bumi.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Miasma
DC Dark Week - Day 6 - Graphic Violence: Injury | Touch Aversion | Blood | Electrocution | Torture | Broken Bones | Sensory Deprivation | Whump
Rating: Mature
Summary:
Unable to move or speak, Bruce had to watch as Joker dragged Jason through what must have been hours of torture. And he could do nothing to help. To comfort.
Unable to see, Jason thought that he had been left to die. To suffer. That Bruce was either dead or had left him. Alone.
Warnings: Blood, Torture, Various Injuries, Eye Stabbing, Bits of Suicidal Thoughts. Further warnings in the fic tags and notes.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Through Blood and Fire
For @silver-the-phoenix
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Summary: Broken bones, open gashes, bullet wounds; neither of them escaped unharmed. Yet, even as battered, bleeding and exhausted as they were, Jason and Tim struggled to escape from the enemies' headquarters. But when an unexpected hindrance suddenly brought the building crashing down around them, can they find a way out alive?
Lulaypp's Foliage of Lost Fics #2: Aren't We All Fluffy
A/N: This was my first fluff. From 2020? Pure fluff. I remembered it being a bit of a pain to write XD This was inspired by the lovely Gem, who shared several polar bear images and captioning them as Batfam. Somehow that gave me the great idea to write pure fluff with polar bear-ed Bat boys. And I never finished it until now (even so I think I intended for it to cover the next morning? But I thought Nah). Among the stuff that I will be putting here, this might be the oldest? A close second otherwise. Up there among the earliest fic I have written (even if incomplete).
Details of Fic: 3.5k words, Batfam Fandom, Pure Fluff, Characters Magically Transformed into Animals, Potential Touches of OOC (I wrote this ages ago so... :P I tried fixing those too glaring)
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Dick woke up from his sleep fumbling with his newly acquired furry paws. He blinked at the clock by his bed. 11:25. Everyone else should already be awake at this time.
Dick dragged himself off his seemingly ginormous bed, padded his way to the door and nosed it open. Bruce had insisted that they left all the doors to their rooms slightly ajar for convenience and emergencies, as the door handle might prove difficult for their paws.
It had been an accident of sorts. All the boys of the Bats had been chasing one single magical villain. All of them had been zapped. And before they knew it, they were all not just polar bears, but polar bear cubs.
Luckily, it was winter. Their thick coats would have been unbearable in the summer heat.
Dick scanned the hallways for any signs of his brothers.
The door opposite to his was wide open. Tim's. He crawled over to it and peeked inside. The room was empty. He turned to Damian's room beside his own; also empty. Then, he turned to the last one, the door still left just slightly opened.
He pushed through it with his head and looked around. Despite being occupied, the room was relatively barren. The cupboards were empty and the walls a normal standard cream colour, the duffel bag on the floor being the only sign of life aside from the bundle of fuzzy fur, curled up on the bed. Jason was bent on not claiming the room as his even though he occupied it every time he stayed at the manor and no one else ever used it. Dick didn’t know whether it was some stupid Jason-being-stubborn-thing, or was it born of something else.
He carefully climbed onto the bed and approached his sleeping brother. In the dim light, his coat appeared grey, highlighting the white clump of fur on the top of his head (no one understood why that part of him retained after the transformation). He looked so peaceful and, admittedly, adorable.
But sadly, Dick needed to wake him up. Alfred and Bruce had apparently let them oversleep.
He nearly used his voice before he remembered that he was not human. So instead, he pawed at Jason's leg. No movement. He did it again, harder this time. Still no response. Dick did a bear equivalent of a frown. He remembered Jason being someone who woke up easily. Changing tactics, he tried gentling batting the other bear's ear— in a way he had always seen animals do. The ear twitched a little before the Jason made a small sound, curling up further. Dick tried poking next, softly prodding his paw into his brother's fuzzy chest, while nosing his head.
That got him a response. Jason's eyes slowly opened and blinked at him sleepily. Before they turned alarmed. He jumped back, flopping on the bed, paws flailing.
Dick laughed. Or it would have been if he wasn't a bear cub. Instead, it sounded like a light, stutter high pitched growl. Jason though, was not amused. He gave Dick a glare before standing up on his paws and jumped off the bed. Dick followed.
Together, they crawled out of the room and headed towards the stairs. He was about to start a conversation before he was reminded of his lack of ability to humanely do so. He frowned.
Beside him, Jason seemed to drag his paws across the carpet, his eyes half closed. Dick's mind supplied him with a brilliant idea. With what could have been a mischievous smile, Dick let himself fall behind before crouching, coiling his hind legs. Then he pounced, tackling Jason, who could only let out a startled yelp.
Unfortunately, Dick chose to do this at the top of the manor's long flight of stairs.
The two polar bears tumbled down, and Dick let out a squeal of glee, clearly enjoying their fall down the carpeted steps. Jason on the other hand was mildly terrified. His untrained paws attempting to find something— that was not his brother— to hold on to.
Before long, their decent down the stairs came to a halt as they finally reached the ground floor. Dick quickly got up and started to run in small circles, wearing an expression resembling a wide grin.
The other bear was not really angry with their tumble down the stairs, but that didn't mean he was particularly happy either. He struck at his brother, sheathed claws softly batting the other's nose with a growl.
Dick was taken aback, joy disappearing from his face as he stepped back. He looked up, expecting to see rage. But, while Jason was snarling, there was mirth in his eyes.
The younger bear slammed into Dick before they ended up playing a game of chase all the way to the dining room.
-
While he did adore animals, that never meant he wanted to be one. Sure, there were times when he wondered what it would be like, but that had only been a mere thought.
Damian marched into the dining room and saw Alfred pouring coffee in a mug and Father flipping through today's newspaper. This would have been a normal sight if there wasn't a small polar bear seated at one of the chairs, seemingly contemplating the cutleries. Drake. Damian crawled until he reached his chair before standing up and climbing onto the seat with as much grace as a tiny polar bear cub could muster.
"Damian," Bruce greeted him, swiftly snatching his mug of coffee away from Tim's reach.
Damian supressed the urge to reply vocally, instead just giving a nod. He refused to talk while still in this form. He had tried it yesterday and the result had been horrendous.
Alfred placed a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Drake, and one filled with chickpeas masala and bread for him.
While Damian tried to figure out the best way to eat without the use of cutleries— for he knew he would only end up making a fool of himself— Drake was trying to manoeuvre a single spoon of eggs into his mouth, clutching the silverware with both front paws. Damian was confused as to why Alfred would provide them with the silverware, as they clearly would have problem using them.
"I have contacted Zatanna," Father spoke up, folding the paper and placing it on the table.
Drake paused his activity to look up at Father questioningly.
He seemed to understand as he promptly replied, "She would be arriving tomorrow evening."
Drake gave a nod before getting back to his task, the spoon clumsily clanging against the plate repeatedly.
Damian looked down at his food. Unlike Drake, he knew that he would not be able to use the cutleries with his new paws.
Some minutes later, Damian had decided to tediously eat using his claws and paws while Father, who already finished his meal, was watching Drake still attempting to scoop up the scrambled eggs—he managed two mouthfuls so far, which was impressive. Alfred was just coming towards the table to retrieve the empty dishes, when there were sounds.
Thudding, quick heavy footsteps and low, muffled growling.
It didn't take long for them to figure out where did the noise come from as a bundle of light grey tumbled into the dining room. Richard and Todd; hopping, swiping at each other’s faces, teeth snapping at fur. Playing. The two of the seem to notice where they were and started to untangle themselves from each other. Richard immediately bounded over to the chair next to him leaping and falling half on top of the seat, his hind legs hanging down.
Todd walked up to the table, climbing onto the chair several spaces after Tim's as Alfred brought out two plates of eggs.
Todd didn’t hesitate to shove his face into his food, jaws snapping what he could into his mouth before chewing.
Richard on the other hand merely took one sullen look at his meal before turning to Father, who happened to be looking at him. He then used his puppy eyes, fore paw pushing his plate in Father's direction.
For a moment, Damian thought his oldest brother's actions were based on the difficulties of eating with their paws.
That was until Father spoke, "Alfred is the one who cooks and serves, Dick. If you want cereal, you are going to have to ask from him."
-
After breakfast, Bruce had to go to the Wayne Tower to attend some meeting that Tim was initially supposed to go to and the cubs, minus Tim, gathered in the living room. Damian stood on his hind legs in front of the window, watching Bruce's car driving away. Dick was on the coffee table, attempting a handstand. Jason was settled on the arm rest of the sofa, thinking whether he should try seeing if could read a book. He didn't want to accidentally ruin his books while flipping the pages with his furry, clawed paws.
Yet, he was growing bored. One could only watch Dick Grayson fall on head over heels so much before it stopped being funny. As minutes pass, Jason was starting to doubt his previous conclusion, maybe Dick was not trying to do a handstand. Falling off the table seemed to be the goal.
Suddenly, Tim came running into the room, tripping over his paws and crashing into Dick. Damian looked part horrified part amused and Jason wished he had a camera to capture the scene that had just unfolded.
Dick picked himself up, shaking his head, while Tim seems totally unfazed, perking up with a cheerful expression and looked at all of them before pointing at the window. The three other bears blinked and stared at him in confusion. Tim ran to the window, stood on his hind legs and tapped the glass pane with one paw while the other makes a circular motion.
They really needed to come up with a way to communicate effectively.
Tim seemingly rolled his eyes. He walked back to them, pointed individually to each of them, including himself, before he made what Jason could only interpret as a running motion then pointed at the window. Jason looked at the window, trying to get a clue. It was snowing outside. The four of them are polar bears.
Then he understood. Tim wanted them all to go outside into the snow.
With that, he gestured Dick and Damian to follow him with his head. He led the to the front door and pat on it with a front paw. That somehow manage to finally make the others understand, Dick grinning excitedly before disappearing back into the hallways.
It didn't take long for him to return with Alfred, who unlocked the front door, saying, "Now young masters, I know that you are all now more than prepared for the freezing temperature, but do be careful. Stay safe and try to not lose each other."
The door opened and Dick dashed out into the snow followed by Tim. Damian ran after them.
Jason launched himself on top of Tim, paws batting his ears, while the younger bear tried to nip at his leg. They rolled about in the snow for a while before a white ball of Damian crashed into them. They landed in a heap before Dick belly flopped himself on top of them.
-
After playing in the snow for some time, the boys were called in for lunch. It started out as rather uneventful. Bruce was still at WE and Tim knew that the second meeting he needed to attend would probably finish at three.
They all ate silently at first. Or he would be silent if he could get the fork to move right.
Damian was daintily plucking his salad with his paw while Jason decides to just bite into his steak, his plate occasionally shifting about.
Dick had managed to convince Alfred to cut his into smaller pieces and was chewing on them individually.
Tim was still struggling with his fork when suddenly a white paw pulled his plate away. He looked up in surprise and saw Damian reaching over— tiny body half on top of the table— and pulling the plate towards himself, giving him what resembled an exasperated look. Using his claw, he cut Tim's piece into smaller parts before pushing the plate back to Tim who was still stunned (and really, why didn’t he think of doing that?). He was barely aware of Dick making a happy proud noise as Tim look from the food to Damian, who was wiping his paw on the napkin. In the end, he let out a sound that hopefully sounds like gratitude and used his fork to finish up his lunch.
Not long after, they all converged into the kitchen, initially to just wash their paws and mouth. Due to reasons that was difficult to pinpoint, what Dick and Damian almost ended up doing was a full-blown circus act in the middle of the kitchen causing Alfred to immediately shoo them out.
"I heard that Miss Cassandra is coming over today," Alfred told them while as they tumbled out of the kitchen doorway. "She should be arriving at any moment. Why don't you all greet her?" And with that, he turned back to the kitchen.
Dick looked at them as they all head to the den, eyes glinting at the idea.
Jason's scowled and shook his head. The elder cocked his head to one side questioningly but did not push, instead turning to his two younger brothers.
Tim gave a shrug, not seeing a problem with the idea while Damian nodded. Having Cass over had never not been fun.
Dick grinned, which really could look like a snarl in their condition, as they reached the den.
Jason shook his head again, causing Dick to frown, his right eye twitched in what looks like a raised eyebrow. Jason gestured his forelegs wildly, at all of them, at himself and at the doorway, which Tim honestly felt like brought more questions than answers.
Damian somehow seemed to understand as he gave a nod before pointing at Jason then upwards.
Tim got even more confused as Dick joined in the non-verbal conversation, shaking his head vigorously, doing some incoherent flailing of his own.
It was cut short however as suddenly someone landed on the table behind him, startling everyone. Tim turned to the newcomer and saw that it was Cass, her mouth pulled into a grin.
"Brothers," she said simply.
Dick let out a strange, excited sound as he jumped over to tackle her. Catching the cub, Cass gave him a hug as she jumped down from the table.
"Brothers, bears. Adorable."
Damian let out a half growl while Jason only huffs a breath, rolling his eyes and crossing his forelegs. Dick on the other hand seemed to take it as a compliment, excitedly wiggling in Cass's hug.
She placed him on the floor and waved them all to follow her. They followed her to Bruce's study and down to the Cave. After a few quick glances around the Batcave, probably to check for their father's presence, Cass continued further until they reached the training mats and turned to them with a wide grin.
"Practice," she spoke.
Dick and Jason perked up (the latter seemingly have lost his earlier hesitance) while Damian seemed to back away. Tim gave him a questioning look which was responded with a shake of his head.
In front of them, Jason and Cass were already in a hand to paw battle, with Dick occasionally jumping in to give playful swipes to either of his siblings.
Tim looked back at Damian, who still appeared uncertain. After several years of back-and-forth squabbling, they seemed to have gone past the point of mutual understanding and respect to where they are now. Knowing that his brother's hesitance came from not wanting to make a fool of himself during training, due to him being an entirely different creature, Tim didn’t push him.
Instead, he shoved.
While Damian was distracted by Dick successfully doing an impressive summersault to a avoid Cass's kick, Tim walked a little bit behind Damian before running at full speed and ramming into his brother. Damian let out a squeak as they tumbled into Dick. The eldest sat dazed and confused as Damian turned to him, teeth bared into a snarl, and pounced onto him, attacking with sheathed claws.
And that was how Bruce found them as he entered the Cave after an impromptu quick dinner. All five of his children, tumbling and fighting on the training mat. He pulled his phone out and sneaked in a quick picture, before he approached them. Cass already met his eyes when he appeared but chose to ignore her father in favour of pushing Jason off Tim.
Bruce could feel his heart melt just by looking at all his children having fun together. It had been a while since that had happened. While they all were in good terms with one another, they also had varying and shifting schedules and lived in separate places. The only times he could actually be sure to see them all together was during Alfred's birthday. Even then there were times when things went wrong.
It took a minute and a lull in their playfight for Dick to notice the new presence and he let out an excited noise before running to Bruce making unintelligible sounds, which Bruce assume that his eldest is trying to tell him a story of sorts. He responded with giving Dick's furred head a pat and turned to the rest of his kids.
"I take it you are having fun," he said. "I hope I am not interrupting but Alfred wants me to tell you that dinner would be ready in an hour and that he would prefer it if you hit the showers before that."
They all picked themselves up from the mats and were about to rush to the stairs when Bruce called for Cass. She motioned her brothers to go on upstairs as she headed back to Bruce, a question in her eyes. "You are staying home tonight."
Her eyes widen slightly but he continued before she could protest.
"Your brothers are all currently benched until they are reverted back to normal, and I need someone to make sure none of them heads out into the streets. You are staying to supervise them."
Cass frowned, "Have case."
"I am sure I can look into it for you. Please?"
She didn’t seem keen with it, but she nodded anyway.
"Thank you, Cass." Bruce gave a nod and a squeeze on her shoulder before walking to the computer.
-
Dinner went well. Other than several snappy growls from Damian, Tim's cutleries clattering to the floor and Dick trying to convince Cass to feed him.
Just as everyone cleared their plates, “Movie night!" Cass declared.
Dick let out an excited rumble of agreement and when no one disagreed, they all went to the den.
It took a while for them to agree on a movie, but they ended up with Ice Age— Tim insisted on it out of irony. The movie started as they settled down on their chosen seats. Dick squeezed himself beside Cass on the sofa, followed by Damian who fit himself between his brother and the armrest. Jason and Tim shared the large armchair, the thing being the perfect size for them.
And it was several hours later when Bruce peaked around the corner and saw his children asleep in the dark den. Dick was curled up on the sofa with Damian sprawled on top of him. On the armchair that was usually reserved for Bruce, were Tim, head hanging of the edge of the seat— it looked painful— and Jason, who had his chin perched on his brother’s shoulders. Cass had a blanket wrapped around her and one hand nestled in Damian’s long fur. She was the only one awake, shooting a smile at Bruce when she noticed his presence.
He approached silently and gave a kiss into Cass’s hair. ‘Thank you,’ he tried to convey.
His daughter immediately pushed into it in an almost cat-like manner before settling in under the blanket again. Damian, head in Cass’s lap, let out a little rumble, burrowing his face into the fabric.
Bruce gave all his sons a gentle stroke on the head— after deciding not to fix Tim’s position as it might jostle him awake— before leaving for his own room upstairs, the image of his children snuggling together safe (even if not quite themselves) warming his heart.
-
(Deleted Scene)
They spent the morning running around, play fighting, pouncing on each other and even tried to have a snowball fight at one point.
It was a bit after noon when they heard the sounds of a car crunching the snow on the driveway. In unison, they all turned and saw Bruce's car. They ran to it. The car stopped not far from them, and Bruce stepped out, a concerned frown on his face as he eyed the crowd of bears in front of him.
"Is something wro-"
He was cut off by Dick launching himself at Bruce head, causing him to fall into the snow. Damian followed suit as Jason and Tim joined in as well, piling onto Bruce.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Flashback
Rating: Mature
Summary: It has been two days since the entirety of Gotham City had been trapped in a force field and Gotham fell into chaos. Nearly twenty-two hours since Batman went missing. Twenty minutes since Batman's distress signal was activated. Ten minutes since Red Hood and Red Robin arrived at the signal's location.
Warnings: Major Character Deaths, Description of Corpses, Blood, Hurt No Comfort
Note: Welcome to the first of few. The first of my unfinished/abandoned/kind-of-terrible fic dump collection thing. This is one I love a lot, the concept and torture was fun. But the pacing and decline of mental state had never sat well with me, and a few touches goes into ooc territory, and some lines ended up being weird.
Details of Fic: Nearly 7k words, Batfam Fandom, Jason-centric (and really there is barely anyone else around aside from some nameless villain), Whump with Emotions. Contains Hallucinations (ranging between just strange and gruesome), Non-consensual Drug Use (a heavy theme throughout the fic), Torture, Electric Torture, Broken Bones, Blood & Injuries (vivid, some hallucinated and some real), Sleep Deprivation
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Jason ground his teeth against the cry that wanted to tear out of him. The sharp, painful prickling insistently charged throughout his body as he convulsed uncontrollably. He tried to still his limbs against the spasms; locking his joints, clenching his fist or pressing down onto the cold metal surface, keeping his eyes screwed shut and pushing his head back into the table. Predictably, none of it worked, and the involuntary jerks alone were starting to hurt horribly. Mix that with the steady flow of electricity thrown into him through the table he was strapped to, his broken bones forcibly shifting with each convulsion despite the restraints holding down his limbs, the searing headache that had been plaguing him for far too long, and his lungs feeling tighter and tighter as seconds ticked by.
He struggled to get a breath in, air coming in slivers before forced back out. A whine slipped past his throat as the pieces of bones in his broken leg moved. He wasn't sure if he was pulling against the cuffs around his wrists or they were just happily jerking away on their own.
When the electicity finally stopped, he gasped, chest still feeling tight, but he could at least breathe and that is good right?
It definitely shouldn't hurt this much.
"Identities," a voice boomed into his ears making him wince at the sheer volume off it.
Jason wet his lips, tasting the iron of a split, and coughed out a glob of blood before answering, "Wha' 'akes you thin' they-" He was forced to paused to suck in a painful breath and he knew that something was really wrong with his body. "-that they have... i'ntities."
"Answer it, Red Hood or we'll go for five minutes."
He tried to not flinch at the threat, rolling his unmasked eyes. "Fine fine. Batman is Bats One. Nightwing is Bats Two. Bats Four is, obviously, your's truly. Or maybe it isn't obvious since Three came in after-"
The was a sigh in response, quickly followed by a backhand. Apparently, this guy lacks a sense of humour. How was it that Dick managed to win all the villains over by cracking jokes? How unfair. "Five minutes it is."
Jason closed his eyes against the erratic thundering dread in his ears and heart. A scream tore out of him as strong volts charged into him. His bare back felt like it was burnt from where it was directly touching the table. He struggled to jerk out of the leather cuffs holding his limbs as he spasmed and gasped. His heart and lungs felt like crumbling and bursting at the same time. Seconds passed, minutes. He must have blacked out at one point as when he dragged his eyes open, the electricity had stopped, and he was certain it hadn't been five minutes yet. Unless if his internal clocked was far too messed up by now. Which, while not too surprising, just showed how long he had been here.
"Identities," the voice demanded again.
It was a bit of a struggle for him to turn his strapped-to-the-table head, but he managed it and glared at the guy. He was far too tired for coherent words.
"Still a no? How about we switch up the power. That was two, so does four sounds good to you?"
Jason wanted to curse the man out but only managed a tired snarl. His breaths were coming in stuttered, laboured gasps, his heart was trying to break out of his already partially broken ribcage and his brain could hardly process any coherent thoughts.
"Power five for two then."
That was the only warning he got before the volts started again. His back arched from the table as a breathless scream-whine trailed out of him, his vision going white. He clawed, at the metal suface, at the cuffs, trying to get away. The bliss of unconsciousness was quickly approaching when it stopped, giving him several seconds of break before starting up again. He trashed against the restraints, scrambling and clawing and tugging. He barely felt the wounds around his wrists reopening and his sprained ankle screeching in the midst of the flooding electricity. The volts would stop periodically before running again, successfully keeping him awake and in pain. His chest felt tight and the bones of his broken arm ground against itself.
When it finally stopped for real, his mind was reeling and nauseous. He collapsed limp against the table, drained and exhausted, sucking in desperate breaths.
"Identities," was repeated.
A tired groan left him as he tried to pull his eyes open. He wasn't successful. "God. Stop it already," he hissed between short puffs of breaths. "We both know... know that... I wouldn't tell you even... if I do know."
"Oh, we both know that you do know who they are."
"Then 'm not-" He coughed, lungs bursting and clenching, and he gritted his teeth against a pained moan.
"I will let you reconsider your choice."
He heard footsteps fading away before a door screeched open and slammed closed, the grating, loud noise making him wince. Edges of sleep pulled at his mind, and he couldn't fight it.
But something pulled him back. A sharp, short burst of electricity pulsed from underneath him and jolted him awake. His eyes were slipping shut and it happened again. And again.
He cursed. Cursed the man, the table, the cuffs, his situation as a whole. He wasn't getting any sleep any time soon.
-
He moved his eyes to the door as it swung open. His mind and sight were muddled with exhaustion and pain, a thick fog hazing over his vision and thoughts. He had passed out at one point, but someone had come over and slapped him awake before threatening to waterboard him if he fell under again. Jason hated bending down to threats, but he wasn't interested in getting drowned either.
The blurry moving dots that he assumed was the tormentor entered, closing the door before approaching. "I don't suppose that you have changed your mind."
"Bite me," Jason snarled. "Why don't you go back to where you belong?" A hand suddenly patting his cheek roughly made him jump.
"I don't doubt that that is where you belong as well, even if you are on the opposite side of crime. But that is no matter."
There was a heavy thunk followed by sounds of rummaging, the sound reminding him of Bruce or Tim shifting through their toolboxes and the comparison did not help his feeling of dread. He startled when something cold and heavy tapped on his right forearm, slowly moving to his wrist and hand. His first guess was a crowbar, which fuelled his panic, but the weight felt different (perks of being beaten to death by a crowbar!). Heavier. Specifically, the head that was softly landing on... It was a hammer.
It was then that the tool was raised higher and slammed down onto the back of his index finger. He hissed, reflexively trying to pull away as another hit smashed onto the knuckle. The hammer continued to move to his other fingers, hitting the joints until they break and shatter. It hardly paused between one pound and the next, leaving him gasping. His entire hand was radiating with burning hot agony that licked fires up his arm, but he refused to let out any more than a hiss. That was before three of his broken middle fingers the grasped tightly and pulled and twisted roughly, making him scream, vision sparkling.
"Identities."
Wow, he was starting to hate that word. He tried to conjure and throw a fancy mix of profanities, but the man probably had seen it coming as the hammer slammed onto the back of his hand. Repeatedly. He bit his lip against a cry. It felt like his entire hand was shattered. He did scream, however, when something dug into his hand, hooking onto the broken bones, and pulled. His struggles made it worse, causing the claw- it was the hammer's claw, it had to be- to bury deeper.
As he was trying to breathe through the agony raging across his limb, he felt a hand pressing down onto his probably dislocated knee. "'go of me, you jerk," he hissed, trying to move his leg away without making it painful.
"You tell me their identities, then I might," the man said as he pressed harder onto the joint before something smashed onto it.
Jason let out a strangled noise as the thing slammed repeatedly in rapid succession, making his vision spark and spasm. He clenched his fists, regretting it as it pulled against the hammer dug into his right hand. Something pushed down onto his knee and his lips bled as he bit it hard, screwing his eyes shut against the onslaught. He didn't get to hold back the scream that left him as the table charged to life, electricity crackling into him. Every convulsion caused blinding agony to burn from his broken leg and hand, pulsing into his mind.
It stopped just before he could have a chance to black out. His mind was left thrumming with exhaustion and pain. He was really tired.
He felt something cold and metal grasping his broken little finger before it squeezed and twisted. He clenched his eyes shut and could only try to breathe.
-
Jason grumbled out a curse when he noticed that his broken right hand was kindly wrapped in a bandage of sorts. It just meant that they were intending on keeping him around for a while. At least the hammer was gone. He had woken up again to the room being empty and the table, thankfully, turned off. He didn't dare to shift his lower half, not wanting to risk aggravating that newly broken knee and the older broken calf, as he tested the leather restraints again, pulling and twisting. They dug into the existent chaffing on his wrists, but he kept at it. They were wrapped tight around his limbs with no obvious latches, he assumed they were probably hidden somewhere underneath the table. The other possibility, which he'd rather not be a reality, was that there were somehow no latches or locks, the ends of the cuffs sewn together or something. The leather was definitely of good quality, not wearing even a bit no matter how hard he tried scratching and clawing at them. Whoever this guy was, he definitely had good funding or just happens to have access to a lot of quality stuff; the table, the cuffs, the fact that Red Hood was still unable to escape for an estimated week.
He hated that he had no idea who the person who caught him was. Red Hood had just happened to be checking in on a suspicious looking dilapidated warehouse after helping Red Robin in an exhausting battle with Killer Croc and Clayface. Before he could do anything effective about it, he was jumped by too many people, knocked out, and apparently dragged to where he was stuck now.
Well, not quite. They drugged and threw him in some room with a simpler collection of restraints, but they didn't account for the Pit's enhancements and the drugs practically flew over him and he had nearly succeeded in breaking out. Very nearly succeeded.
And now he was stuck here, with leather straps pinning his wrist, ankles, upper arms and head to an electrifying table, and the leader of whatever this was trying to dish out Batman and the rest of the family's identities out of him. Like that would ever happen. While interrogation might not be the worst kind of capture, it was definitely somewhere high up in the list. It got very annoying, especially when the interrogator had the nerve to believe that he would bend down to their demands if they hit him hard enough.
Jason took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. At least they let him pass out this time around which was relatively nice. The table was perpetually cold against his bare back, and it caused the bits of burns left there to twinge every so often, especially when he moved. It didn't necessarily hurt, but it was definitely uncomfortable.
The door opened and Jason snarled as footsteps came closer, two people from the sound of it. Yup, this was not going to be fun.
A person stepped into his field of view, a lackey most likely, and started rummaging through a bag of sorts. It wasn't long before he found what he wanted and pulled out an empty syringe, fitting a needle at the end.
Jason's eyes widened as panic swished in his mind. "Get that away from me," he growled when the syringe came close. He struggled against the cuffs and practically tried to tear out his limbs from his restraints when the tip of the needle touched his right forearm. His heart thumped loudly in his ears as the tip pressed into his skin, a sound strangling out of him. He bucked and twisted as his vision went hazy. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to not fall into a full-blown panic attack, it was just a stupid needle, and bit his tongue when he felt the thing pull out.
When he dared to look again, he managed to catch a glimpse of red in the tube just as it disappeared into the bag. Blood. His blood. He could almost laugh, good luck trying to find anything with it. Bruce had made sure to keep any kind of trail untraceable. Even if it wasn't so, the Pit had messed up with his physiology, and he was still legally dead, thus no new medical records.
His eyes jumped to the leader guy as the man came from his left and he snarled. "You won't even get anything from it."
"I'll get what I want," the man replied evenly before he, surprisingly, left with the other guy. But, unsuprisingly, not before turning the table on at a low voltage.
-
Jason believed migraines and headaches to be two different things, despite having simmilar symptoms. Like... pixies and fairies. Or elves and pixies. And he hated having both at once. This was one of the times when he wondered how Tim had been able to pull off that one month sleepless marathon. Maybe it was the coffee. Maybe he could use some coffee right now. His point still stands, headaches were a nuisance while migraines deserved to be in Arkham more than he himself did. Not that he should be in the asylum.
He winced as another sharp jolt of electricity sparkled, keeping him up and awake just as he was about to fall asleep.
The door opened and he counted two people approaching. He cursed silently and glared at the first person to come into his line of sight. It was the leader-guy-person.
"Anything to say before we start, Red Hood?"
Jason broke into a cocky grin. "You can kindly go to-" A hand was slammed over his mouth and he scowled. That was rude.
Before he could bite it, however, it was removed and he fished out a random creative collection of words from his brain. But he froze when he saw the same other guy from before coming with the same bag in hand.
The bag was opened and a syringe was pulled out, partially filled with something off-white. Jason wanted to scramble back in panic but it plunged in and pulled out before he could. Whatever that was, it was already inside him. He didn't know what in the world was that and it was in him.
"What did you do?" he growled, trying to not expose his fear and panic.
"Let's just say history makes for a very good inspiration."
Jason snarled as his mind echoed with dread. Not good. Not good. This was very very bad.
Another filled syringe was pulled out as he tried and failed to pull away.
-
The dim lights were starting to burn into his eyes and he closed them with a groan. Only open them again when a clown creeped into the darkness. He turned his head away from the light. He really hated drugs in all shapes and forms.
There was a murky voice saying something and he only knew what was being said due to the repetition of the word. "Identities." That was all the guy had been saying through out this entire thing.
He didn't know whether or not they had concluded that he was more immune to chemical things, but whatever they had been giving him just happened to be strong enough to override his defences. It was adding to the migraine and making his mind feel muddy. The table charged again and he groaned. He also felt like vomiting. Horribly. He was only holding it back because he would probably choke on bile with his current position and drugged mind.
He hated getting drugged, with or without his consent. He hated drugs as a whole. And he didn't know what on earth had they given him. It might have been a mix of things. Judging by the wierd things dancing around his vision- were those tiny Nightwings with bunny ears?-, it might be a sort of hallucinogen.
A cold sharp thing poked at his arm again and he tried to twist away. He was never successful as the needle went through despite his struggles, throwing whatever concoction the syringe was filled with. Why couldn't they just continue to beat him up? Why this stupid drug thing?
Something snatched his jaw, forcing his eyes back to the light. He hissed. The voice was too close when it growled, "Identities, Red Hood, and this would be over."
It took a bit for him to understand what was being said. "'ot h'penin', b'stard." His own voice sounded echo-ey and far...
He flinched as a sudden creaking and slamming sound echoed everywhere. He gasped when the electric table started up again at low power, keeping the flow steady. The bunny Nightwings turned into one and hopped onto his chest. He scowled at it as it booped his nose with its paw-hand.
"You're an idiot, you know that?" It suddenly talked! It talked! In a squeaky Dick's voice to boot!
Jason wasn't interested in having anyone in the room seeing him talk to his own hallucination and resorted to internally replying, "You're saying like it is news. You're going to have to be a bit more specific as to what exactly you're referring to."
Bunny Nightwing- or Bun-Wing, he decided- gestured to the world around them. "You are pumped with gallons of who-knows-what and you are still stuck here."
"Oi. No no. This was not my fault. I did not sign up for this."
"It so is." It sing-songed.
“Then enlighten me on just how is this my fault.”
"Couldn't even stop yourself from getting caught. You really are such a trouble maker. You never change."
Okay. That hurt. How was it that his own hallucination was so mean to him? "You're mean. I hate you. Why can't you do something useful. Like turning off this table? Or the lights?"
Bun-wing rolled its eyes. "You just said I am your hallucination, you idiot. Unless if you want to hallucinate the lights being off, then be my guest."
Jason nearly huffed out loud. He tried shifting to, hopefully maybe, find a position where the shocks won't hurt as much, but forgot that he was a half-mess of broken bones. He gritted his teeth and screwed his eyes shut, stars and fireworks flashing in his mind.
"Stop moving, you idiot. I'm gonna fall off."
"Stop calling me an idiot, you selfish jerk. And don't look like Dick if you're not going to behave like one."
"You prefer it if I look like someone else? How about someone with a better sense of humour?"
It cackled, sounding too close to him, and Jason snapped his eyes open, glaring.
Bun-wing had the nerve to look victorious. "Then I'm staying as I am. Besides, how do you know that this isn't how Dick behaves when he isn't around you? Maybe Dick had always been hiding all of his real feelings from you, trying to be the 'good big brother'."
Why was it that his mind decided to conjure something who liked to rattle off his stashed away insecurities? "You know that I no longer think that.”
"Do you, though?" Jason didn't get to retort when it snapped, "Language."
"I hate you." He pointedly turned away from it. But it didn't stop talking.
-
"Stop it," Jason finally growled out loud, certain that the room was empty. Bun-wing spent the past minutes-hours prattling on and on, either about some stupid inane thing, or uprooting one of Jason's many deeply buried fears and insecurities. "Just stop it 'lready and shut up."
"Why, Little Wing? Scared? That it might be true? That dad wouldn't find you again?"
"You shut up. He's not my 'dad' an' y'know nothing."
"But, Jay, I'm your mind. So technically, everything I say is what you believe."
"Te'nicality's stupid."
"It is, but it doesn't make it less true. You're the outcast of the family, if you're even part of it in the first place. You're the Pit-crazed murderer maniac who nearly killed Tim. You're the failure Robin who died."
"’said, shut up." Jason shifted his wrist in the leather cuffs. Maybe he could pull his hand out and strangle the imaginary rabbit.
"I'm just saying what you are. What Bruce thinks you are. You don't even belong with us."
Those were not what Bruce thought of him. He kinda knew that. Bruce had said it himself when Jason had admitted his doubts.
"You forget, he nearly killed you by slicing you neck, letting you bleed out and get caught in an explosion. He didn't try to save you, remember?"
He would never forget about it, the night still haunting him. The contempt in Batman's face. The batarang searing into his neck. The burn and crumble of the building around him.
"I'll say that is a pretty good example of how much Bruce hates you. If he now acts like he doesn't, we both know how much of a good liar he is. He-"
"Just shut up!" Jason bit his lip, trying to breathe. Whatever stupid things his hallucination was saying was not true and he knew that. But his brain was feeling murky and was apparently too messed up to care. He wanted to throttle that stupid rabbit.
"No, you don't."
"I may be imagining you but that doesn't mean I don't want to kill you, you pretentious-"
"Language." The rabbit booped his nose again and that was starting to get really annoying.
He scowled. "Ge' off me. You're heavy." His chest was starting to hurt from where the bunny had been hanging out for the past array of minutes.
"No, you idiot. I weigh nothing but thoughts. Your chest is just having problems with itself."
That... that didn't sound right. "What d'you mean by that?"
Bun-wing rolled its eyes. "You are so dim sometimes."
"Can you stop insulting me an' get to the point? I know that I am a stupid idiot, even if you haven't been telling me that for the past who knows how many hours."
It looked smug and victorious. "Allow me to enlighten you, Jay Jay."
Jason cringed at the new nickname but didn't protest as the hallucination would only irrate him further.
"You battled Killer Croc and, if I remember correctly, both you and Tim concluded that you had cracked some ribs. Time skip several hours or so, you arrogantly thought that you could get out of here and you collected even more injuries. We skip again, you spent days here, on this table, getting shocked to oblivion. I'd say that your chest and maybe lungs and even your heart is not too happy with you."
He ground his teeth. Now that he was paying attention to it, he could feel the pain coming from inside his chest. He had also forgotten about the table slowly pulsing in shocks up until now, his drugged mind having thrown the detail into the back burner. And now he couldn't stop feeling it, the light prickles coming from everywhere underneath him, periodically jolting him; not strong enough to be outright painful, but definitely uncomfortable. Mixed with his current state of mind, his head was starting to feel a little more than slightly sick.
-
Jason had gone back to ignoring Bun-wing, hating the squeaky voice of his brother coming from the imaginary rabbit. It was dreadfully annoying. Not mention some of its words just hit too close to home.
Instead he closed his eyes and tried to remember quotes from Alice In Wonderland. He couldn't. But the attempt made for a good distraction.
A sudden slam made him jump. His eyes snapped open and he hissed as the light burned. And he cried out when something pressed down and ground onto his shattered knee. Joker flickered above him, crowbar twirling. But fizzled out when a different voice spoke.
"Identities."
Jason cursed viciously, ignoring Bun-wing's "Language."
"So you have yet to give in."
"Wouldn't. Ge' 'ver it."
"You're reeeally sure you wouldn't? I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you," Bun-wing taunted.
"Just shut up already, you pre'entious 'mpostoring deadweight," Jason snapped.
"Rude," the rabbit kicked his chin lightly.
At the same time the leader villian guy spoke up, "Tell me, Red Hood. What is it that you see? What do you see and hear?"
Jason wordlessly glared at the man.
The fizzy shocks that had been emitting from the metal surface underneath him jump to a viciously strong voltage.
-
"You're wrecked."
Jason closed his eyes and ears; the latter obviously figuratively; from the words.
"Come on, Jason. It is not like I'm real. We both know that."
Nope. No. There was no one talking beside him. If he didn't see it, then it wasn't real.
A scoff. "Are you really giving your imagination the silent treatment?"
He wanted to sleep. The table had been off for ages yet he was still kept up by his own mind. He was beyond exhausted.
"C'mon, Jay. Don't be like this."
It had to be two or three days since he last slept. His internal clock had gone out of the window and he wasn't wholly sure if his interrogator had a schedule. He wasn't even sure if that guy was even real half of the time. His hallucinations, in a long run, started to get confusing.
"Jason..."
He whined and finally turned his head to meet Tim by the table. "Please just stop talking and let me sleep, Red."
Imaginary-Tim took a sip from his mug of limitless coffee, his neck tie sparkling with tiny glittery bats. "Sorry. You kinda said you probably shouldn't earlier."
At least having this Tim was better than Bun-wing. Imaginary-Tim wasn't as annoying or willing to hurt as the rabbit. "Did?"
"They threaten to waterboard you again if you fall asleep."
Jason vaguely remembered that. He had fallen asleep at one point, gotten a bit of a nightmare -thank you, Bun-wing- and had woken up drowning. His trashing had successfully reignited all his injuries; broken legs and arms shatered wrist and hand, the awful thing in his chest, the stinging burns on his back, and a whole array of unidentifiable throbbing all over him. It still hurt now and he wanted to curl up in a corner somewhere until it all went away. But he couldn't do that, he's still stuck to the table. And imaginary-Tim had clarified that he couldn't help.
...But maybe... he could... "Red?"
Imaginary-Tim raised an eyebrow.
"Can you- Can you maybe like..." Jason felt hesitant and slightly embarassed to voice it out, even to his own hallucination.
But Tim, smart even in Jason's imagination, deduced what he wanted. Or maybe just knew since this Tim was just a conjurance of his own mind.
Imaginary-Tim reached out a hand and patted Jason's hair. And Jason melted. He knew that he was just imagining things and he couldn't even feel it, but just the thought of it was nice. Imaginary-Tim’s fingers was the most comforting thing he had ever felt in days.
-
So, the gaggle of people holding him had apparently decided to keep him constantly and steadily drugged by hooking him up to an IV thing. He also assumed at it was making sure he didn't die of dehydration.
He had asked imaginary-Tim how long had it been since he last slept and the hallucination merely replied that he didn't know because he hadn't slept either. He missed that figment of his imagination. Tim had left him alone at one point.
His interrogator hadn't come by even since the IV pole had been set up. He hadn't been able to willingly stay up anymore. He suspected that something in the concoction of fluids injected into him was doing that for him.
Joker leered over him, elbows pressing onto his aching chest. "Come on, Jay Jay. You're being awfully quiet."
Jason turned away but there was a Joker there too.
"Not finding a punchline?"
He closed his eyes but something raking over his bare chest made him open them again.
"We can always turn this party up a notch!" Two other Jokers stepped into view, all wielding crowbars.
-
It wasn't real. He knew that. But it felt so vivid.
"..S-stop..."
The Jokers went on giddily thunking their crowbars all over him, ignoring. It hurt despite it all being in his head. His heart was beating erratically as his chest felt caved in. His shoulder was shattered again and again despite never been broken in the first place. He tried to tell himself that it was just his hallucination, this wasn't real, but it was starting to get muddier and muddier by the minute.
“Let me tell you a joke, Jay-kins,” one of the Joker spoke up, grabbing his jaw to turn his head to meet green eyes. “What bird dies in flames and comes back to life?”
A robin. Him.
The grin widened. “Bet you think its you, eh?”
Another Joker made a buzzer sound, “No-se-ree! You got that wrong.” The crowbar was raise before “Fore!” and it slammed onto his shattered knee and he screamed. “Guess again, Hoody.”
He couldn’t answer even if he wanted to. Couldn’t think. There was just so much overwhelming pain coursing and pulsing through every inch of him. And the worse part was that he knew it wasn’t real.
All three pairs of manic green eyes suddenly swivelled up to behind his head. "Oh look who decided to join the party!" they chorused as they melted into one.
At first Jason thought that it was the bad guy again. But the familiar dark figure entering Jason's periphery proved him wrong. For a moment, for a short sliver of moment, he hoped that it was real.
"Look who I brought!" Jason flinched at the voice of Bunny Nightwing, the rabbit hopping onto the table.
Batman stepped closer, emotionless as ever.
Jason knew what was going to come. He’d had this nightmare before. He struggled in vain. The cuffs were still holding him too tight. "No... no please no..."
Batman snarled and pulled out a batarang.
-
The blade trailed down his chest from his neck again, drawing patterns over his heart, tracing over the scar near his throat. It was pressed deep enough to break skin. But there wasn't any blood or new cuts. He realistically knew that, despite the flows of red that shines in the blinding light. All the while, Batman, one hand moving the batarang through the flow of blood, was by his head, free hand almost gently combing his hair, whispering words. Assurances.
"Shh... It's okay, Jason. A little more."
"That's it. You can hold on a little longer can you?"
"Now that didn't hurt too much, didn't it? Can you take a little bit more, Jay?
Jason sobbed and tried to get away. The twisted words, the sharp batarang, the gentle hand, they were all too jarring and confusing for him to coherently comprehend, messing up his head even further. He couldn't even jerk his head away from the fingers with the strap holding him in place.
How was it that he was hallucinating all of this? Maybe this was- No. It couldn't be real. This wasn't real. He couldn't let himself think that.
He bit his lip against a cry as the batarang hooked at his skin and pried it open, back arching from the table as he struggled. He whined the blade pressed down onto the scar at his neck, causing a fresh flood of red to gush out.
"Shh.. shh... You can take it, Jay," Batman whispered, fingers brushing back his bangs. "You're going to stay strong for me aren't you?"
Jason screwed his eyes shut against the brimming tears but a pair of furry paws pulled them open again.
"C'mon, Little Wing." Bun-wing rolled its eyes from were it was hovering by his head. "Stop trying to run off."
Jason summoned what little strength he could fish out of his addled brain and glared at the rabbit.
-
He opened his eyes with a gasp when something cold and wet crashed onto him. Trying to blink his vision clearer, Jason realised that he passed out at one point and greatly hoped that they were not going to hold on to their threat. His sight remained blurry as a voice pierced the ringing in his skull.
"Identities."
He tried to get his tongue to cooperate and throw out a curse, but it was a mumbled, slurred response. His thoat felt dry and rough.
"I am assuming that you have yet to give in?"
He glared at the villian leader guy– well, the blob which he believed was the villian leader guy– and growled.
"Then we'll go again.”
His heart fell. He hated the drugs and the hallucinations it made his mind conjure. He never liked those things in the first place. And he was afraid of what too much of it would do to his mind and body. The childhood fear of being dependant on it. He could already feel the more immediate side-effects of overdose; the relentless nausea, his erratic heartrate, the throbbing-over-pounding headache, the deep layering pains in his chest. And he wasn't keen on meeting any of his imaginary conjurance again. Why couldn't this guy be more physical? He wouldn't even complain against the usage of a crowbar.
He forced his mouth to work. "'ou- You guys 're 'finitely n-not th'mos'... creative people in'th'world."
There was a dark chuckle of amusement. "Don’t tempt me, Hood. I can get very creative. Set up the new drip and make sure to increase the potency."
A hand grabbed his bound arm and Jason struggled, feeling a needle threatening to pierce his skin. But he wasn't strong or free enough to fight or get away as the sharp tip went in. His heart was pounding in his ears as he still kept on trying to break free, twisting his wrists, borken or not, in the cuffs.
His broken knee was suddenly twisted and he screamed, vision flashing with stars. His movements faltered as the pain pulsed and throbbed, mind fizzing between the agonising shifts of broken bones and the dreading pricks of needles in his arm.
When it all finally stopped, he struggled to catch his breath, lungs feeling far too compressed and throat too tight. He winced when the lamp overhead was adjusted to shine directly into his eyes and flinched at the sound of the door slamming close as the people left him alone. For now.
-
His entire head was a throbbing mess of aches. The dark walls of the small space crumbled around him endlessly despite the too bright light coming from somewhere. Was it the way out? But he couldn't dig himself out, tied down as he was. And- and the dirt was going to suffocate him and-
No, he wasn't buried. He was somewhere else. The table. Empty room. Not underground.
He tried to blink away the hazy hallucination around him. It just blurred further and he closed his eyes.
Not real. Not real notrealnotreal-
A half cry left him as he clenched his broken hand in attempt to ground himself to reality, focusing on how the skin tore further. That was real, he chanted in his mind, the things he was seeing wasn't. He curled his fingers in tighter and sucked in a shaky breath.
A touch on his shoulder and a familiar voice made his eyes snap open.
No. Please please no.
Batman stood over him, a snarl curling his lips. He raised a crowbar, bringing it down and it stabbed as a batarang. Jason screamed as the blade sunk into his chest, twisting in his heart. He struggled against the restraints, ignoring the way his movements pulled at his shattered knee and tore further into his wrists.
The crowbar pulled out before the table shocked him with a quick burst of electricity. He let out a breathless cry as, at the same time, the glinting metal weapon impaled his knee. Fingers touched his hair and he tried to run away, hearing soft incoherent words getting whispered in his ear.
"Stop!" He finally sobbed out when the batarang started to peel the skin of his right wrist. "St-stop... please just- just stop..."
His breath hitched as he heard Batman’s, "Shh, Jay. It's alright. We've got you."
It wasn't alright. It wasn't alright. He knew this wasn't alright. He also knew that this wasn't real but it was hard to believe that when Batman was hovering above him, hurting him. And he could vividly feel every single pain inflicted upon him.
He whined at a particularly harsh wrenching of the crowbar still embedded in his leg. Breathing was getting too hard, his heart was pounding loud and uneven in his chest and it all hurt. Fingers pried open his half-clenched broken fist, pressing it down, as he spasmed against a new flood of electricity. "B, please stop. Please..."
"Stay still, Jay." Reprimand was in the tone. "Stop moving. But you never were good at listening to orders. I shouldn't expect much from you."
Jason flinched. All in his head. All in his head. Not real. There was no way Bruce would say that. But knowing all that didn't make it hurt any less.
He suddenly felt his legs getting moved and realised that the leather cuffs and straps holding him down were gone. He didn't waste any time and scrambled back as far as he could, not caring when he fell of the table. He just needed to get away. Far, far away.
Batman followed him and he tried to get up and run, but he was too hurt and weak - weak, helpless, useless - and collapsed before he could even get his legs under him, a pained moan and whine escaping his throat. His knee was pulsing and shrieking and he curled up on the floor with a whimper despite his mind screaming at him to get away.
"Jason," a different voice called out. It wasn't Batman. It wasn't Bun-Wing or Joker or anyone else who would hurt him. He peered between his bangs and saw Tim. Red Robin was crouched in front of him, a hand outstretched. "Jay. Hey. It's just me, alright. I need you to stop moving or you'll hurt yourself further, okay?"
Jason couldn't understand the uttered words but he knew that Tim hadn't hurt him. His little brother never had. He kept still as Tim shuffled closer and moved the outstretched hand onto his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze.
"I need you to calm down and breathe slowly, Jason. I don't know what you're seeing, but I know that not all of it is real. Can you stay still while me and Bruce check you for injuries?"
Bruce? He wanted his father. Longed.
But then Batman stepped closer and he flinched back. He whimpered as Batman gently touched his face, thumb stroking across his bruised jaw. He wanted to run, but he was too exhausted. Hurt. Batman tugged him from the floor, wrapping a large black thing around him, and he let it happen. Tim was still there, holding the broken leg, and Jason screamed raggedly when it was straightened.
A soft, rumbly voice pierced through the pain-fuelled haze and he looked up when something brushed his bangs. Bruce’s strong gaze met his and he felt his breath catching in his throat. Bruce was here. He melted as his father embraced him, trembling and whimpering into the armoured chest. He felt safe.
It probably was a hallucination, much like Tim, but he would take this comfort even if it wasn't real.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Perpetual
Rating: Mature
Summary: It was endless. Every sharp sting brought him back whenever he slipped too far. Every mark scored across his body buried into unhealed wounds. He'd never die, yet never been given the respite to heal, to cope, to escape.
Joker found a way to bring Jason back to life, or at the very least keep him alive. And there was no stopping the endless cycle of death and life.
Warnings: Major Character Death, Many Types of Injuries (Detailed in the tags an A/N), Hurt No Comfort, Torture, Gore
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Jaws Of Steel
Bad Things Happen Bingo - Caught In A Storm
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Summary: In running away from his temporary place of captive, Jason got trapped in a blizzard. To make things worse, he failed to notice the danger hidden beneath the heavy blanket of snow.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Daring Do and The Bracelet of Light
Rating: General Audiences
Summary: Somewhere in the middle of the jungle, was a waterfall that was said to hold an artifact known as the Bracelet Of Light. Concerned that any of her enemies would want to exploit the treasure's supposed powers or market value, Daring Do set out to find it before it lands into the wrong hooves.
