Yet another commission by the amazingly talented @ookamihanta!!! Go check out their page to see more art!!! Their commissions are still open so go check that out as well!!! I highly recommend them!!! 👹
Gods and Demons (Preview)
Damian's preparations for departure were almost complete when Superman hailed him down. For a moment, Damian considered pretending he had not seen him, but ultimately rose to meet the two men who had now landed gracefully beside him and Goliath. He was familiar with the man known as Superman, but the second man was a stranger to him. He was tall with wavy dark locks framing a sharp jawline and piercing steely grey-blue eyes, he bore a resemblance to the other man. He had a pretty good idea now of who he might be. The man's attire was peculiar though, causing Damian to wrinkle his nose slightly in disapproval. He wore a black suit adorned with shimmering silver stars, his deep crimson colored cloak billowing behind him. The most unnerving part of his uniform however, was the obvious missing "S" shield in the center of his chest, leaving the skin underneath exposed for all to see. Damian quickly averted his gaze, focusing back on Superman. “What’s this?” Damian's features contorted in suspicion as Superman extended a piece of paper towards him.
“An olive branch” he replied calmly, then motioned to the tall figure standing next to him, Kal-El cleared his throat, “this is my son, Zod-El. He will be stationed in Tibet with you for the foreseeable future.” There was a moment of tense silence as if to allow for Damian to process the information. Then, Superman spoke again, breaking the stillness. "Consider him an ambassador of good faith," he said firmly.
Damian scoffed, crossing his arms, “Tt. More like a spy to make sure I behave," he retorted with a sharp edge to his voice. The Justice League's true intentions were clear, they had their own agenda, but he intended to manipulate it to his advantage. Despite their lack of trust in Damian's ability to change the League of Assassins, it gave them an excuse to keep him under observation and under their protection. They needed to keep Damian alive regardless of his intentions because the absolute worst case scenario for them would be for him to lose control. It was an obvious choice, he was the only option with ties to the Justice League and a genuine desire to make the world better, even if his methods had not been received well by them. He could only stand to benefit from such a relationship, nonetheless, he’d make them work for it.
Superman let out a weary sigh, his broad shoulders slumping in exhaustion, “you agreed to observation after the attempts on your life," he reminded Damian sternly. The mention of those close calls made Damian flinch slightly, the memories still fresh and painful. Ever since his grandfather’s passing things had not gone as smoothly as anticipated, with everyone with even the slightest of claims coming out of the woodworks, but he survived and he’d continue to do so. Of course, some extra protection would be prudent, even though he had managed to reunite his family giving him the most claim, the attacks still occurred. His mother had even begun to express concern, certain that there was a rat among his inner circle. Damian didn’t want to consider that, the notion that the people he cared for most wanted him dead. Although it was a reality that he hated to admit, he could probably benefit from an impartial set of eyes and ears. Yet, Damian was proud if nothing else and he refused to allow anyone to think him weak.
"That may be," Damian huffed, "but I never agreed to an indefinite placement and certainly not from one of your B-list cast offs." His lip curled teasingly as he surveyed the man clad in black in front of him. He was curious to see how he would react.
The man grit his teeth and extended a hand with a forced smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Dam-”
Damian interrupted firmly, his piercing gaze fixed on the man's face. “You may call me The Demon’s Head.”
The man chuckled nervously as he pushed back some unruly curls from his forehead. “No offense but...” he hesitated before continuing, “I’d rather call you anything else.”
Damian's lips curled into a menacing smile, his pearly whites barred behind a mask of feigned politeness. "Then, may I have the pleasure of calling you Jonathan?" The man remained silent, his expression guarded. Damian pressed on. "surprised that I know your other name?"
He cleared his throat, his voice betraying forced calmness as he responded, "Not really...and it's just Jon."
The smile fell from Damian's face, replaced by a look of disdain, "I'd rather call you anything else." The lack of push back from his opponent was slightly off-putting, it was simply no fun if they just stood there and took it. But then again, what did he really expect from the son of the Big Blue Boy Scout, always so righteous and obedient.
The tension between them hung heavy in the air, like a thick fog that refused to dissipate. Goliath finally broke the awkward silence with a restless shift, his large frame causing the ground to tremble beneath him. "I see there's no point in arguing with you," he grumbled, casting a patronizing look at Jon. "If Super Slut is ready to depart, then we shall." With the grace of a seasoned rider, Damian pulled himself up and swung himself onto his fiery red companion, feeling the heat emanating from its powerful body. Beside him, Jon effortlessly lifted himself off the ground and into the air. The bat dragon spread its massive wings and with a few strong flaps they ascended into the sky.
New multiverse story is on its way! The Swaps head over to the Paranormal Preteens world again after meeting them in their futures, and it turns out they’re playing Caverns and Creatures! But a mishap sends the kids back into their game, and sends the Swaps with them! Now they gotta complete the quest in order to get out!
This one is a shorter one, only like 5 chapters so I wanna see what you guys would prefer I do when posting it!
How should we post this?
All at once (AO3 and Tumblr)
Once a day (like I usually do!)
All at once on AO3 and day by day on Tumblr
Voting ended onMar 31
Let us know!! And I’m already working on our next story which will be a very very long one HGHGH
It has been one week since Bruce Wayne came to his office and one week is a long time for Timothy Jackson Drake to think.
The next part of the Multiverse Jaytim Series It only took me like 2 years.
Warning: This wasn’t in the original plotline. I was thinking about Tim over the weekend and things just happened and here we are. Let’s pretend I edited this and know whats going on.
It has been one week since Bruce Wayne came to his office and one week is a long time for Timothy Jackson Drake to think.
Alpha has confirmed that someone has been monitoring them; that someone has been watching them with security cameras. Following them. Timothy has confirmed someone tried to, unsuccessfully, hack into his network. He has seen the carefully hidden traces in his bank accounts.
Jason, with too much tension in his shoulders, pointed out the lingering shadows on the adjacent buildings of his home.
The breaking point were the posters asking for information on the Red Hood, with a large reward if it led to his capture popping up everywhere, followed by a news segment.
It has been one week since Bruce Wayne came into his office and that was a mistake on his part.
It has given six days for Timothy to think, and plot, and act.
Timothy may have more anxiety than he knew what to do with, he may have been mostly deaf, and weak, and non-threatening, but there was one thing that Timothy did have.
And that was a flight-or-fight response stuck firmly on Fight.
It has been one week since Bruce Wayne came into his office and Timothy Jackson Drake is ready to take him down.
He has Alpha hack into Wayne Industries network, an easy task as Alpha is already wired in. He makes an appointment for himself with Bruce for nine am, Monday morning.
It is 8:45am and he is riding up the elevator to the executive offices. Alpha has already confirmed the man is in his office.
He steps onto the correct floor and knows he looks the part. He’s in his nicest sweater, nicest slim slacks. His watch costs more than some people make in a year. His briefcase and shoes are Italian Leather.
He is his mother’s child when he smiles at the secretary, “Good morning, I have an appointment at nine am with My. Wayne.”
“Mr. Wayne does not have any appointments this morning,” the secretary replies stiffly.
Timothy tilts his head just slightly, the polite but icy smile still on his face.
He would make Janet Drake proud.
“I am sure I do not have my date or time wrong, ma’am.”
She moves her mouse, clicks some keys, and her eyes narrow just slightly, but then she nods towards the seats along the wall. “Please have a seat, Mr. Wayne will be with you shortly.”
He sits, with his briefcase in his lap and waits. The double doors open within a minute and Bruce is smiling warmly at him. The smile doesn’t meet his eyes.
“Mr. Drake, please come in.”
Timothy gets up and strolls into the office, shoulders back with a confidence that only comes with six days of thoughts.
The door closes behind him.
“I wasn’t aware we had a meeting, Mr. Drake.” Bruce walks back around to behind his desk and sits. He motions for Timothy to do the same.
Timothy does, setting his briefcase by his feet, “We didn’t until fifteen minutes ago, Mr. Wayne. I added it to your schedule.” He waits a beat, then, “Alpha, please black out the room.”
Bruce’s face hardens and Timothy’s confidence waivers. Fear and nerves rush through him and he balls his hands into fists in his lap.
Alpha’s voice in his ear steadies him, “The room is blacked out, Sir.”
“I apologize,” Timothy starts, his voice surprisingly firm. “I did not think you would want anyone to listen in. I know I do not.”
“Mr. Drake, I am not sure what this display is -”
Timothy cuts him off.
Timothy cuts off Bruce Wayne.
“I need you to leave the Red Hood alone.”
Bruce stares at him and he actually does look confused, “I’m sorry?”
Timothy repeats himself.
“I..have no idea who that is, Mr. Drake.”
The act is good, it would fool anyone else. But Timothy knows and he only has so much time before the room is no longer a Black Spot.
“I know you don’t, Mr. Wayne. But you, and Dick Grayson, and Barbara Gordon, and everyone else inside your Family needs to stop trying to find out and leave him alone.”
Bruce’s eyes narrow and Timothy pushes forward.
“Or should I say Batman, Nightwing, Oracle, and the rest of your Bat Family need to leave him alone.”
Bruce’s face changes from something hard to amused, “I do not know what you are talking about, Mr. Drake.”
Timothy straightens his back to the point it's almost painful, “I have known who you are since Dick Grayson was in the pixie boots, Mr. Wayne. I am asking you nicely to leave Red Hood alone.”
Bruce’s face schools into something calm, emotionless. His eyes are hard again. “And if I do not?”
He doesn’t even take a breath. “Then the world will know who Batman is. They will know who Robin and Nightwing are. Who Red Robin is. Who Batgirl and Blackbat are. The will know who Oracle is and the links to the Gotham City Police. I will have it splashed across every major news network before I walk out of this building. Stocks will plummet, Rogues will riot, and so help me, I will let Gotham burn.”
“All for this Red Hood?”
“Yes,” Timothy says without hesitation.
“You realize this will not end well.”
“You threatened my family, Mr. Wayne. I realize there was an accident, that Jason was shot, but I was in danger and he was perceived as a threat. He wants to be left alone and he will be.”
“He is not a hero, Mr. Drake.”
Timothy picks up his briefcase and stands. “There will be an email in your inbox once I step out of this office. You have until I reach the bottom floor to reply ‘Yes’ if you and your Family and all of your associates agree to leave Red Hood alone. If not, you know what will happen.” Timothy takes a breath, then, less firm, less Janet Drake, “He does not plan to stay in Gotham much longer. Once he leaves, I will turn over all evidence I have to you. I understand what will happen to me, but you will not touch him.”
If looks could kill, Timothy is a hundred percent sure Bruce would have broken his no-kill rule by now.
But Timothy didn’t back down.
He couldn’t back down.
Jason was the first person in Timothy’s life to care about him, to look at him and see him, and Timothy was not going to lose that over a lapse in judgement.
And Timothy was so lost for him, so lost for the multiverse jumping vigilante, that he would do anything to keep him happy.
Including, apparently, blackmailing Batman.
Timothy gives his old cold look to Bruce, continuing to channel his mother, then nods, “Bruce.” He turns and leaves the office.
“Black Spot has been lifted,” Alpha chimes in his ear. “Email has been delivered.”
The email contains two photos and a video; two pictures of Bruce with his cowl down at different angles and a video of Bruce removing his cowl upon entering the Batcave, with Alfred walking into the frame before it cuts out.
Timothy knows the consequences he is going to face once Jason is gone. Once Jason is safely back in his own universe. Timothy is going to lose everything, but he doesn’t care because Jason is worth it.
Jason will always be worth it.
His is shaking by the time the elevator doors close, the gravity of everything crashing onto him.
“What the hell did I just do?”
“You blackmailed Batman, sir.”
“Oh my god,” all the anxiety and fear and everything was building inside him and what the hell did he just do? “I threatened Batman. Alpha, why did you let me do this? Oh my god, I’m going to be sick.”
“Sir, I could not have stopped you if I had wanted to. Also, I am going to now point out you have successfully blackmailed Batman because he just replied ‘yes’.”
Timothy falls back against the wall of the elevator, his heart pounding in his chest and his head spinning. “I think I’ve lost my mind.”
“According to the internet, Sir, love will do that to you.”
Yet another commission by the amazingly talented @ookamihanta!!! Go check out their page to see more art!!! Their commissions are still open so go check that out as well!!! I highly recommend them!!! 🦉
Into the Owl's Nest (Preview)
Damian's eyes snapped open and he jolted up in bed, gasping for air as if he had been drowning. His skin was clammy and his heart raced in his chest. As his senses returned, the cold, musty scent of damp stone and earth filled his nostrils. He strained to see in the darkness, but could only make out the faint outline of a room surrounding him. The distant sound of rushing water echoed through the space, causing a shiver to run down his spine. With a sinking feeling in his gut, Damian realized that he must be deep underground, and he realized where he must be. This was the Owl’s Nest.
The faint clicking of heels echoed on the stone ground, growing closer with each step. He strained his eyes against the darkness as he searched for an escape. Too late. The door creaked open and a woman glided in, her form encased in a skin-tight nylon suit, feathers adorned the top of her cape. Her blonde hair was pulled back tightly, emphasizing her fierce features, while a mask obscured her eyes. Damian maintained a stoic expression as she spoke, her words dripping with disdain, "so, you must be Talia's brat," she spat. Her eyes roamed over his form, obscured by the mask she wore. The coldness in her voice matched the chill in the air, sending shivers down his spine. Her eyes narrowed behind the intricate mask, scanning him from head to toe with a mixture of curiosity and contempt. The silence between them was thick with tension but Damian maintained his composure.
When he did not speak she continued, “your father wishes to see you.” Damian's muscles tensed at the mention of his father but he remained still, not daring to give her any satisfaction. Not even when she glided across the room, her movements fluid like a predator stalking its prey did he move to get up from the bed. With a swift motion, she pulled him up by his arm, her long nails digging into his flesh. He gritted his teeth against the pain, knowing better than to show weakness. She dragged him along, her grip unrelenting, until they reached a large open space. A wall was lined with computers and equipment, and there, behind the glow of computer screens, sat a man clad in all back. The Owlman.
The man slowly turned to face him, his expression unreadable. "I hope you don't mind," he began in a smooth, almost mocking tone, "your mother and I decided it would be best if I took custody of you." Damian felt a surge of anger rise up in the pit of his stomach, a rage that was only met by the man's cruel smile.
"You killed my mother," Damian growled through gritted teeth, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“I suppose that’s true,” he shrugged carelessly, “it pained me to do so, I loved her-”
"Obsession is not love," Damian spat out bitterly, his control slipping as memories from last night flooded back. "That's not love...and when you couldn't have her..." His voice trailed off, trembling, as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Damian had loved his mother more than anything, and this man had taken her away from him without a second thought.
The man's eyes hardened and for a moment, Damian could see the darkness lurking behind them, "let it be a lesson to you then," he sneered. "You may share my blood, but if I have no use for you, you can join her."
Damian was smart enough to know when someone was bluffing, and this man was not, he was well aware that this man would snuff him out the moment he stepped out of line. Refusing to show any weakness, Damian stood tall and pushed aside his emotions. "What use do you have for me then, father?" he asked, maintaining a calm and collected façade despite the turmoil within.
His features twisted into a smirk, “I’m glad you asked,” he stood from his chair to tower over the boy, “As you may or may not be aware, Ultraman was our esteemed leader until his most recent and unfortunate demise. His twisted obsession with his other selves was finally his downfall. Ironic.” The glint of joy in his eyes betrayed his words. “There are a few would be successors but of course I have my preference.”
Owlman paused as if waiting for Damian to ask a question but Damian knew there was only an answer he sought. And Damian was nothing, if not adaptable. “Naturally, it should be you, father," he replied smoothly. He’d play along for now, he’d tell the crazed man whatever assurances he needed to hear. Afterall, he was somewhere underground surrounded by enemies, and if he hoped for any chance of survival, he’d have to be smart about it.
“Smart boy,” he scoffed, then continued, “Ultraman leaves behind his wife and son, Lois has already begun pushing for Jor-El to claim his father’s seat but he is just a child. Barely 19. He needs…” he paused again as if searching for the right words, “a friend more than a title.”
Damian raised an eyebrow in question, “you wish me to befriend him?”
“Sure…and who knows what may happen once you two become close.” Owlman shrugged, a wicked smirk spread across his features, contorting them into a menacing expression.
Damian racked his brain for meaning. Did his father want him close to Jor-El to distract him, to manipulate him, or to kill him? Did his father even care as long as he could take power? Finally, Damian broke the silence with a slow, measured voice. “I can only assume you have some means for me to arrange a meeting with him?”
“Of course,” he motioned toward the blonde woman who had been lurking in the corner. “Beth, please ensure that Damian is presentable for this evening's introduction to the rest of the Syndicate. Make him look…enticing.”
Damian suddenly became aware of another possibility.
Yet another commission by the super amazing and talented @ookamihanta!!! Go check out their page to see more art!!! Their commissions are still open so go check that out as well!!! I highly recommend them!!! 🦇
Blood of the Covenant (Preview)
Jon’s neck snapped over to where a silhouetted figure perched silently in a tree above. Had it not been for the scattering of birds, their frantic flapping and squawking, he may have never even noticed the presence up above. The figure crouched, hidden within the dark branches, like a predator observing, waiting to strike its prey. Jon felt a chill run down his spine as realization dawned on him. “just- just make it quick.”
Jon closed his eyes tight and waited for something that never came. Gathering his courage, he slowly opened his eyes and frantically scanned the area around the tree. The figure was nowhere to be seen. His body relaxed slightly, but before he could let out a breath of relief, the figure suddenly emerged from the underbrush, clutching a limp rabbit in his hand. Jon's breath caught in his throat at the sudden appearance and he couldn't help but shudder with fear.
“Tt,” he clicked his tongue and Jon immediately registered the sound as annoyance. He wondered if fear in its prey was becoming a nuisance for this particular vampire, it would have been almost laughable, if he wasn’t scared shitless right now.
Aside from the pounding in his chest, Jon watched on in silence as the creature expertly built a fire with dry twigs and leaves. The orange flames danced and flickered, casting eerie shadows on the surrounding trees. As the sun descended below the horizon, the fire became the only source of light, the sky now painted in shades of deep blue. The heat from the flames grew more intense, warming his skin and filling the air with the scent of burning wood. Jon’s eyes followed every move as the vampire gracefully skinned the rabbit, then with precise movements, drained the blood from the small animal. Jon’s throat tightened as the creature was skewered onto a freshly sharpened stick and placed over the embers. The smell of cooking meat filled the air, making Jon's stomach growl in hunger. The vampire seemed to have quite the sick sense of humor, subjecting him to such torture. Jon squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force his mind off of the pain in his gut.
Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice shattered the silence. "Eat," they commanded.
Confused and disoriented, Jon's eyes snapped open as he tried to make sense of the words. "W-what? Why?" His own voice came out weak and shaky.
“You clearly haven't eaten in a few days,” he stated matter-of-factly, his eyes roaming across him. Jon eagerly reached out, accepting the offering, savoring the succulent meat as it filled his empty stomach. When he finished, he crudely wiped his mouth with the cuff of his sleeve. He was still weary of the other but at least if he dies now, it would be with a full belly. The man continued to stare at Jon intently, never taking his gaze away. After a long silence, he spoke again, his voice low and measured, “how long have you been here?”
“Eighteen days,” he croaked out, feeling small and weak under the man's intense scrutiny.
The other only nodded. “Is that your canteen?”
Jon's heart sank as he nodded and replied, unable to hide the desperation in his voice, "It's empty." The sound of his own almost unfamiliar timbre only served as a reminder of how long it had been since he had last spoken to another human being…or anything close to it.
Without another word, the man snatched the canteen from Jon's hands and disappeared quickly into the dense forest. Minutes dragged on like hours, Jon could do nothing but watch as the moon dragged across the sky until it was directly overhead. With no clear sense of time, he began to wonder if he’d been abandoned once again, left alone in this desolate place with nothing but his thoughts for company.
As the last embers of the fire began to fade, Jon's gaze caught a glint of movement in the corner of his eye. He watched as the lithe figure of the man emerged from the shadows with the canteen in hand. With a quick flick of his wrist, he tossed the canteen at Jon, who winced as it thudded against his chest. “Vampires?”
Jon nodded, “yeah, we took them out but I got inj-”. He flinched, realizing suddenly that he was talking to a vampire about taking out his own kind.
The man seemed disinterested in the murder of his kin and instead chose to focus on something else entirely. “We?”
Jon swallowed the lump forming in his throat, “yeah, the guys I'd been traveling with.”
“They left you here?”
“Well-”
“To die?” he interjected.
“I told them too. I was slowing them down.” Jon’s voice came out smaller than he intended it to.
The man carried on, as though uninterested. “Kryptonian?”
“How did you-?” The man's piercing gaze landed on the prominent "S" adorning Jon's chest. Jon shifted uncomfortably, feeling foolish, “oh. Yeah.” The two sat in tense silence once more, until the question that had been gnawing at Jon could no longer be contained, “why haven't you killed me yet?”
For the first time since the man had appeared, he seemed to be taken off guard. He sat in quiet contemplation, his brow furrowed and eyes distant. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke again. “I knew your father. He was a good friend of my father.”
“Was.” Jon felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach, “so, he’s dead then.”
“I’m sorry,” his eyes flashed with empathy, just briefly, before returning to their stoic state, “but yes. They both are.”
“It's okay,” Jon tried to reassure himself, though his voice trembled slightly. “I think...I think I already knew.” As the words left his mouth, he felt a sense of finality wash over him, confirming what he had been desperately trying to deny. His father hadn’t come looking for him, he had already known it could only mean one thing. Silence consumed the air once more, until Jon finally spoke, “so, you haven’t killed me because my dad used to be friends with your dad?”
“Is that not enough?” he shrugged.
Jon quickly shook his head, “no, I mean, I’ll take it.”
“Tt. So, don’t die on me Jonathan Kent or this will have been a complete waste of my time.”
Surprise flickered across Jon's face, “you know my name?”
The other man scoffed, “of course, I'm the son of Batman.”
“Batman? ... So then, are you ...Tim?”
“I'm insulted.” The man's expression turned from irritation to hurt, “no, I'm Damian. I'm... I'm the last living son of Batman.” A weight seemed to settle upon him as he spoke these words, as if the realization of his own loneliness had suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks.
“I'm sorry. My... my brother is gone too.” Damian allowed the silence to consume the night, he did not ask Jon any more questions and for that, Jon was grateful.
Yet another commission by the amazingly talented @ookamihanta!!! Go check out their page to see more art!!! Their commissions are still open so go check that out as well!!! I highly recommend them!!!
Sins of the Father (Preview)
Damian touched down at the Hall of Justice just in time to watch as Jon fades away and back to the safety of his own universe. “What happened here?” Nobody makes to move or answers him. His eyes dart between a very sullen Kal-El, the boy named Jay clutching his arm, and Cyborg. The Flash zooms by in a blur of movement to join them, still no one says a word. Frustrated, Damian repeats his question, “what happened?”
“Jon attacked Kal-El, so I sent him back to where he came from,” Cyborg stated firmly.
“That’s a lie, he didn’t-” Jay cuts himself short, seeming to suddenly realize with whom he’s arguing with.
A tense silence falls between them before Cyborg finally speaks again, “I made a judgment call.”
Superman's eyes flash with anger and pain, he finally speaks. "A judgment call? My son is gone," he spits out each word with venom.
Cyborg sighs, “he was never going to stay Kal.”
“He might have!” he shouts, his fists clenched at his sides, the desperation evident in his voice, “I could have gotten through to him.”
Cyborg's voice was laced with agitation as he attempted to reason with his stubborn friend, “he wanted to change you Kal, he had already made up his mind about us.”
"You don't know that," Kal retorts stubbornly, refusing to accept the truth.
“Did you hear nothing of what he said?”
“I could have made him stay!”
“Is that truly your belief?” Damian interjects abruptly, his words slicing through the tense silence. All eyes immediately turn towards him, drawn in by his sudden boldness. For the first time in a long while, he feels fear creeping up his spine at the weight of Superman's intense gaze. "It seemed to me that we had reached an impasse with Jonathan," he continued, his voice calm despite his apprehension. A deafening silence falls over the group, Superman's face is set in a hard line, his jaw clenched tight as if trying to contain his anger. The barely contained rage emanating from him is almost palpable. Without a word, he abruptly turns on his heel and storms off, seeking refuge within the walls of the Hall of Justice.
Damian considers for a moment what may have occurred had Jonathan stayed in their time, perhaps Superman would have been the one to bend to Jon’s will. Before Jonathan had brought him the lasso of truth, he would have been disgusted by the notion but now he was not so sure of how he felt.
Damian's attention was so consumed by his own thoughts that he barely registered the arrival of the rest of the League back at base. The Flash's voice snapped him out of his reverie, “So Jon’s gone? What now?”
Wonder Woman's voice cut through the air like ice, “business as usual. Batman is running out of places to hide, we’ll root them out soon enough.”
“What do we do with him?” the Yellow Lantern asks, gesturing toward the injured man.
“Allies of the Res-”
“He wasn’t an ally, just a mere pawn,” Damian interrupted Wonder Woman before she could finish her sentence.
Her piercing gaze narrowed on him, daring him to challenge her further., “Well, that’s more than I can say for some of you.” Damian knew she was referring to him and the Flash but he refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction, keeping his features carefully neutral. Barry on the other hand looked startled by the accusation, even behind his mask. Barry opened his mouth to defend himself, but Wonder Woman silenced him with a stern look.
The tense silence was finally broken by Cyborg's commanding voice, “take him to the med-bay. He can be released after questioning.”
With a curt nod, Wonder Woman allowed for Lex Luthor, who had been waiting patiently, to take Jay away. She then made a subtle gesture toward Hal, which both Damian and Barry picked up on swiftly allowing them to just barely evade the Yellow Lantern’s ring as it attempted to engulf them behind a yellow orb. “What’s the meaning of this?” Damian demanded.
“When Superman calls, we answer,” Wonder Woman stated coldly, her blue eyes flashing with ferocity.
“Di, I knew the kid wouldn’t hurt him. I just thought maybe he could help. You know I’d be a millisecond away if there was any actual danger and obviously Damian was close by as well,” Barry attempted to explain himself.
After a few tense moments, Wonder Woman finally relented and called off Hal, her muscles visibly relaxing as she did so. "Fine," she said with a stern glare, "but if I see either of you falter again, you will not get a third chance." The threat of her words hung heavy in the air.
Damian watched silently as one by one the rest of the Leaguers filed into the Hall of Justice, his thoughts drifting back to his conversation with Jon. Was Jon right about him? Should he attempt to make amends with his family? Were the pieces of what they were still salvable even after everything that had happened? Or were they beyond repair, shattered by the events of the past five years that could never be undone? If he knelt before his father and begged for forgiveness would he take him back with open arms? Would he even want him to? Could he ever even look any of them in the eye after all that had transpired between them. Damian pushed those thoughts aside for the time being, he couldn’t even consider the notion of defecting without a plan…but he knew just who to talk to.
The whole reason I started writing this series again; Jaytim Multiverse Series
Timothy fixes the travelling device.
The device is blinking slowly up at him, ethereal blue and white lights making it look even more exotic than it already is. Which is pretty hard given it is alien technology from another universe.
If Timothy wasn't already so used to the concept, it would have left him in wonder. Well, even more wonder. He is pretty amazed, more so with the fact he actually managed to fix the device. He was able to fix broken alien tech from another universe, without aide.
And he can't even put it on his resume.
He wonders if he should make a joke resume that includes all the accomplishments he can't put on his real resume or if that would be too pompous. His real resume is stunning enough as it is, he doesn't need to make himself look more arrogant.
He scraps the idea and looks back down at the device with a small smile.
He actually did it. Jason is going to be so pleased when Timothy-
All of the joy and pride drop from Timothy’s stomach and is it is all replaced with dread.
Jason is going to be pleased that Timothy fixed the traveling device because it means he can finally leave. He's been stuck in the universe for half a year, it is time for him to move on. To go back to his travels, to his own world.
It was why he had come to Timothy in the first place; so Timothy could fix the thing.
The friendship, everything that had come with it, and the kisses they had shared meant nothing to Jason. He was just waiting around until Timothy could fix the traveling device. And now he has, so Jason can leave.
Timothy takes a few steps away from his workbench, away from the device.
He doesn't want Jason to leave.
He likes Jason. He likes Jason a lot. Jason makes him laugh, makes him smile. He gets Timothy to stop being an anxious mess, even if only for a few hours. They eat all the ice-cream they buy together in one sitting and marathon bad movies Jason insists will be good. They work out together, Timothy mostly actually just watching how Jason moves, because he is so big he shouldn't be that graceful, and Jason teaches Timothy new things. They work together on Jason's patrols and Timothy loves listening to Jason tell him about cases and the people he busted that night, even if he gets squirmish.
It is nice. It's all so nice and Timothy doesn't want to give it up. It's all a cosmic fluke he got it in the first place, Jason could have gotten stuck in any number of multiverses, so Timothy can't be selfish. He can't want Jason to stay, to stay with him, to hold him at night and give him soft butterfly kisses when Timothy has had a Bad Day.
He can't, as much as he wants to.
The dread in his stomach turns and tightens and Timothy finds himself backing up until he hits a wall, then sinking down into a crouch. Tears gather in the corner of his eyes and breathing is getting much harder. He gasps for a breath, but it feels like nothing gets down his throat.
He’s working himself up but he can’t stop.
He hunches over and presses forehead to his knees, his shoulders shaking with sobs.
He doesn’t want Jason to go. He wants Jason to be the person to stay. He needs someone to stay. He can’t handle anyone else leaving him.
He’s never had anyone else to leave him, not since his parents.
He’s never let anyone in, too scared they would leave him, that he wouldn’t be good enough. He was never good enough, he could always be better. He can be better, he can be so much better, and maybe, if he was just better, Jason wouldn’t want to leave him.
What can he even offer Jason to have him stay? Nothing. He can offer nothing. All he’s done is make things harder for the vigilante. If he had just focused harder, he could have fixed the travelling device months ago, then Jason wouldn’t be stuck in this universe, having to deal with people he was trying to avoid. Which is also Timothy’s fault. Jason is off, meeting with Bruce Wayne and the Bat Family, again, because Timothy fucked up and then fucked up worse when he couldn’t handle the Bats trying to figure out the truth. His stupid threat that he honestly thought would work, all to protect Jason. But Jason didn’t need protecting, and to keep Timothy from getting locked up in Arkham, Jason had done the one thing he hadn’t wanted to do.
He’s a mess and no wonder no one has ever cared about him.
Jason is going to be delighted to leave. He’ll disappear into another universe and never look back. There would be no reason for him to come back.
Timothy doesn’t mean anything to him.
Timothy has never meant anything to anyone.
The only thing he matters for is his work. Just like it always has been. Jason having come into the picture changes nothing.
The thought grounds him, makes him completely numb, and he finally registers the beeping in his left ear. It’s low, timed in short intervals, and if Timothy could feel anything, his heart might ache.
It’s Alpha’s breathing program, trying to get Timothy to calm, breathe in time with the beeps. The AI developed it on his own, after seeing Jason trying to help Timothy during a breakdown.
Timothy pushes his head into his knees and follows the pattern the best he can between his dying sobs.
He feels so empty. So tired. He doesn’t want to move anymore, or even try to. He wants to stay where he is, curled up, until he can remember and reaccept his place in the world as Nothing.
The beeping continues and suddenly the memory of sitting in a hospital bed completely alone, knowing nobody cared enough to come see how he was rushes back to him. He has always been alone.
He reaches up and slowly pulls out his aides. He hears Alpha start to protest, ask him what is wrong, but the words don’t really register. Timothy drops the aides on the ground and curls back up.
The world is quiet. The sounds of machines whirring and clanking is gone and the only thing his damaged ears can pick up is the muffled, deafening to most, thrum of the servers that line the walls of his lab and his own heart beat.
He curled his fingers into his pants and closes his eyes.
He doesn’t know how long he sits there, not sleeping but not awake, not aware of anything, but eventually something bumps into his leg. Timothy looks up and blinks slowly at the beachball sized metal sphere sitting in front of him. Hesitantly, he reaches up and with fingers that ache from being curled too tightly, touches Alpha. He’s not sure how the AI got out his physical form; Timothy knows it has been locked away in storage on another level.
A projection light shines down, splaying the words ‘It is six fifteen’ across the floor in front of Timothy. It causes him to squirm in place, because he’s lost so much time and now he has to go home.
The guards can’t leave until his does and Tim doesn’t want to keep them from going home to their family. He doesn’t want to be even more of a burden.
He grabs his aides and pushes himself up into standing. Alpha bumps himself into Timothy’s leg, like he’s trying to offer comfort, like a dog or something, but all it does is unbalance Timothy a bit. He can’t bring himself to care or to reassure Alpha he will be alright.
Because he doesn’t know if he will be.
He doesn’t know if he ever was alright.
He follows his packing up routine, simply out of habit, then leaves the lab. Alpha rolls to a stop right in front of the door rolling after him, instead of just watching him from cameras.
He debates putting in his aides again, but decides against it. He doesn’t want to hear anything, including Alpha worrying over him.
And part of him hopes that maybe he won't be able to hear a truck approaching him at a high enough speed.
He still looks both ways when crossing the street.
Dying would cause some issue. The company has poured so much money into his research he should at least finish it and he needs to finish the upgrades to Alpha’s servers, so the AI can take up his new role as a security bot for all of Wayne Enterprise’s buildings, because that is still a thing and he hasn’t worked on it at all. And Timothy has to tell Jason the device is fixed so that he can leave.
Maybe after all of the he can lay down and just stop.
He’s so tired.
No one cares.
No one needs him, beyond his work, but he knows his mind isn’t anything special. The world is full of Bruce Waynes and Ted Kords. They probably could have fixed the travelling device quicker than Timothy ever could have.
They probably could have completely built a new, better one in the time it took Timothy to figure out what was wrong in the first place.
He slumps up the steps of his building, telling himself he doesn’t deserve to take the elevator. Elevator is for people who have places to be, things to do.
Timothy just wants to lay in his bed and not move.
The door to his apartment is open and waiting for him. The air is icy cold, turned down to the lowest setting, making a shiver go up his spine.
Alpha is making things easy as possible for him, trying to give him what he thinks he needs. Timothy likes the cold, likes to get under all his blankets.
Alpha is trying to help.
Because he is programmed that way. It has nothing to do with caring.
Timothy mumbles out a thank you anyways and shuffles to his bedroom. He drops everything onto the floor, kicks off his shoes, and falls face first into bed. After a long while, minutes, hours, eons, he doesn’t know, he pushes himself up so he’s properly on the bed and crawls under his blankets. It is warm and he feels confined and small and it is comforting in a way that only being wrapped up in blankets can be.
But it’s not enough and he feels empty.
He wants to go back to half sleep, to lose himself to not thinking about how worthless he is and how no one will notice if he dies once Jason is gone. He can reprogram Alpha, make him forget Timothy Jackson Drake ever existed. Let him do what he was designed to do, not act as a caregiver. It will be better like that.
He's thought about it before, about dying and disappearing, but he's not felt it this intensely in such a long time. Part of his mind tells him to get help, but from who? There is no one, only Jason, and telling him ‘the thought of you leaving makes me want to die’ is manipulative and Timothy is not going to play that.
Jason is too good of a person to do that to, even if Timothy knows Jason doesn't think he's a good person.
Jason is the best person Timothy knows.
It hurts to think of him, so Timothy tells himself he won't. He curls in on himself and starts mentally reciting equations to keep himself from thinking of Jason.
It works until his bed suddenly dips with an added weight and Jason is sitting beside him, looking down in concern.
Jason reaches out for him and Timothy doesn't know how to react so he doesn't. Jason takes the non action as permission, cups his cheek, rubbing his thumb over the skin there soothingly. He's talking, saying words that sound too far away and muffled for Timothy to hear and Timothy can't seem to process the shapes his lips are making.
Jason looks up to the ceiling. Alpha must be telling him something, but Jason nods along, then looks back to Timothy. His eyes are softer. He looks sad. Timothy can't understand why Jason would be sad.
Jason says more things, but Timothy just stares up at him, taking in all the little features of his face. He has a scar on his lip. It's faded. Timothy wants to touch it, but his body can't seem to move.
Until Jason starts to pull away from him.
Hot panic surges through him and Timothy’s hand jump up and he clings to Jason's wrist, holding him as tightly as he possibly can. He pushes his face into Jason's palm and closes his eyes.
He doesn't want Jason to go. Not now, not ever, he needs him to stay. He needs Jason so much. He cares about him so much.
He might love him but Timothy doesn't know what love feels like. But he thinks, maybe, it might be close to what he feels for Jason and he just needs Jason to stay touching him, just so Timothy can pretend, for a moment, his feelings are returned.
Jason taps his fingers against Timothy's cheek and he manages to open his eyes, to look up at the other man. Jason says something, something soft by his expression, but Timothy can't understand. His brain isn't processing.
Jason seems to understand. He brings his other hand up into Timothy’s line of sight and begins to finger spell in ASL.
It's hard. It's harder than it should be, but Timothy slowly comprehends what Jason is telling him.
‘I am staying.’
He's staying. He's not leaving Timothy. At least not now, but he will, soon, when he can finally be told the truth. Timothy squeezes the wrist in his hand, the panic and dread of the idea of Jason being gone for good filling him again. Maybe if he just holds on tightly enough, Jason will not move away, he'll keep touching Timothy, let him soak up the feeling of being cared for, even if it isn’t Real.
Jason's thumb rubs over Timothy’s cheek again and he starts to move around, all while keeping his hand in place. Timothy watches, confused and lost, as Jason lays himself down beside Timothy, before dragging Timothy to his chest.
Timothy greedily curls against him, pushing flush against him and tucking his head under Jason's chin.
This. This is what he wants. This is what he doesn't want to lose.
This is still a new feeling for Timothy, even if it's been weeks since it first happened. Laying in bed with someone, being held. Being made to feel so small and protected and cared for. It is all an illusion, Timothy knows that, but it is so so nice. He closes his eyes and relaxes into the hold.
Jason's arm is around him, rubbing soothing little circles into his back, while his other hand still touches Timothy’s face. It must be uncomfortable, but Jason isn't protesting. Or Timothy can't hear him protesting. He can feel Jason’s lips moving against the top of his head, saying words Timothy can't understand. Timothy wonders if Jason knows he can't hear or not. Alpha would have told him.
Maybe he's talking for his own benefit.
Timothy doesn't know, doesn't care at the moment. He finally, finally feels somewhat warm now that Jason is wrapped up around him. He feels like he will be okay.
His own hand goes up, slowly, unsure, and he tries to grasp at the front of Jason's shirt. His breath hitches when there is nothing to grab onto. There's no give to the fabric.
His eyes crack open and he looks down Jason's chest. He's met with Red Hood’s armor. Jason doesn't look like he undressed at all beyond taking off his helmet and domino. Timothy lifts his head just slightly, to peer down all of Jason's body; gun holsters are strapped to his thighs and his boots are still on.
Timothy makes a soft questioning noise, confused because Jason always takes off his boots right as he comes inside. He makes a fuss about tracking blood and dirt everywhere, but now those boots are on Timothy’s bed and he doesn't understand.
He's tugged back, so he is once again tucked under Jason. The arm around him tightens and words are breathed against his temple. They feel soft.
He closes his eyes again and clings the best he can to Jason.
Jason is here. He's here and he's going to stay, at least for the moment. It's all Timothy can ask for.
It calms him, Jason's presence, enough that his body readily drifts into the thoughtless half sleep, then quickly into a full sleep.
