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Timmy :)

BATMAN FIGURE SKATING AU BATMAN FIGURE SKATING AU

———————

Break the ice

———————

Heel to toe.

Heel to toe.

Wait for it.

Don’t rush it.

Don’t slow down.

Don’t lean out.

Keep in.

Heel to toe.

Don’t wipe out.

The only thoughts repeating in Jason’s head are like a mantra. The moment his skate hit the ice again, he knew it wasn’t right even before Bruce called out.

“You’re pre-rotating! Don’t skid your takeoff, keep it clean!”

The man began skating over to him, giving Jason only a moment to prepare for the disappointment in Bruce’s expression. When he finally stopped in front of him, Jason was surprised to find there was none, only the face of a man deep in thought. When their eyes met, it was hard for him not to look away. It was as though Bruce was studying him, trying to find out what made him tick.

“Jason…”

He swallowed. “Coach?”

“Is something, say, bothering you? Distracting you maybe?”

Aw hell, he seriously thought it was because he wasn’t focused? It was hard to get a jump like that when your whole life depends on it, why couldn’t Bruce just understand?

“Nah, B. I’m good. Probably something up with my skates. Actually, ya know what? I’ll just go retie ’em real quick.”

“Jason-“

“Don’t worry, Bruce! It’ll only be a sec!” And Jason was already speeding off the ice and into the locker rooms.

Dumping himself onto a bench, he took a moment to catch his breath. Head leaning against the wall behind him, the cool brick— or whatever it was— felt like heaven against his sweaty hair. Jason’s eyes shut for a moment, replaying the sequence in his head.

He needed that double axel. If he didn’t get the 2A, then he’d never get the 3A. If Jason doesn’t land that 3A in competition, Bruce won’t see the point in keeping him. He couldn’t fail, not when everything depended on it.

Life at the manor made him realize just how much he lacked living with Willis and on the streets. The man earned just enough to fund Jason’s skating and his mother’s addiction but fell short completely in the parenting apartment. The goal before he was arrested was to take the total share of Jason’s money from sponsors and place rewards. Before.

Bruce was like a father to him even before he was adopted. Constantly saying how proud he was of Jason, hugging him when he reached a milestone, and even celebrating his 11th birthday when Willis forgot.

He was 14 now and still didn’t have his double axel. Jason wasn’t stupid. He knew people took years to get their double and triple A. It didn’t matter. If Jason wasn’t skating, if he wasn’t winning, then Bruce wouldn’t see the point in keeping him around.

If only it wasn’t so hard, but no. It was always pre-rotated. Under-rotated. Over-rotated. Waxel. Check the arms. Nothing was ever right.

Except for the one time.

A perfect takeoff, 2.5 rotations, and a perfect landing. He’d done it all while he was sick and shown up to practice anyway, too delusional to think about his mental block and simply going for it without a care in the world besides the migraine in his head.

Bruce had cheered for him up until the moment he realized Jason had hidden being sick from him.

He did it once, why can’t he just do it again?

“Hey, JayBuddy!”

Jason nearly slammed his head against the wall as he jolted, eyes opening in a panicked array. His vision centered on Dick Grayson.

“Woah, hey, relax. Sorry I scared ya.” The smile never left his face.

Jason scowled.

Dick. Fucking. Grayson.

Possibly the worst part about living with Bruce was his other kid. The ever-annoying man never knew when to stop teasing, and made his disdain for Jason obvious. Dick didn’t even live with Bruce anymore, but he always made time to visit just to piss Jason off. This was even without the constant comparisons made by the man.

‘Struggling with your 2A, Jason? I could do my 3A at your age!’

Or

‘Oooo tough wipeout on your quad salchow. Ya know, that’s my signature jump.’

Jason hated the man, no matter how much the papers emphasized that they were brothers.

“What do you want, dickface.”

The older boy made an expression of mock offense, even going so far as to lay a hand over his heart.

“I’m wounded, Jason, truly. You realize this is a public locker room, right? I can be here if I want.”

Jason rolled his eyes, moving to redo the laces on his skates despite not needing to. He barely bit back the series of curses when he heard Dick set down his back beside him and take a seat to Jason’s left. He’d come to find that the best thing to do was to ignore him.

“Though, with how long that double is taking, I’d wanna hide too.”

But that would only work if Jason was good at ignoring people who pissed him off. He wasn’t.

Jason nearly stood right up before remembering that his laces were completely loose and setting himself back down. Dick’s cheery expression did little to hide the man’s malicious intentions.

“Fuck off, asshole! It’s not that easy!”

He set to work on the first pair of laces.

“Isn’t it? I got mine in a year. Less if you don’t include the times Bruce made me do it in a harness.”

Jason fumbled with the hooks in his anger, loosening the whole thing and having the start over.

“I guess that’s what you get for stealing my place while I was gone though.”

It had been a sore spot for both of them. After Bruce got Jason off the streets after 2 years of not seeing the boy, they were quick to return to training. When Dick returned from a sponsor trip abroad, he wasn’t the happiest upon seeing that some kid he didn’t know took all of his practice slots.

Jason willed himself not to let the liquid collecting in his eyes fall. He simply moved on to the next skate.

“That it? You’re not gonna argue back? Maybe tell me about how much of an ass I’m being again?”

It was getting harder to hide the quiver in his lip.

“None of your sarcastic responses?”

“What do you want me to say, Dick?” Nothing was more embarrassing to Jason than the shakiness of his own voice. He felt Dick’s shadow over him lean back and out of his space.

“What? Hey, kid. Are you crying?”

Jason tugged on the final knot of his laces and stood up, glaring at the stunned man through his blurry vision.

“I hate you! You don’t even know how lucky you are!”

Any part of the older man’s expression that showed guilt dissipated in a quick second, quick to fire back.

“And you aren’t? Don’t act like it’s so easy for me!”

And now Jason couldn’t stop himself from letting everything stream out, like a raging waterfall trying to escape from a stuttering source.

“You don’t have to fight for your home! You’re already B’s son! Why do I gotta fight to have a place to sleep? Nail every stupid jump and sequence or else Bruce is gonna send me back! And because you’re such an ass-, you just gotta rub it in my face! I get it, okay?” He cringed at how his voice cracked but pushed through anyway.

“I’m not good enough to be his kid!”

And finally, Dick had no more left to say, just the face of shock as Jason gathered his things and rushed out of the room.

There wasn’t time for Jason to dwell on it. He had a practice to return to.

As soon as he was a safe distance away from both Dick and Bruce, hidden in the corner by the water fountains and vending machines, Jason wiped away his tears and tugged his jacket back on.

And so after he returned, they ran through it again and again. There was always some mistake, some issue Jason couldn’t seem to get under control without a new one popping in. Fall after fall, failure after failure. By the time the whistle rang for them to clear the ice, Jason’s knees and elbows showed promise of nasty bruises for the next day.

He rushed to get his shoes on, cringing at the sight of his red ankles. Bruce was already waiting for him in the car and the rink was basically empty aside from the Zamboni driver on the ice.

Before he could push out of the locker room, a hand on his shoulder shoved him back in. Jason quickly regained his balance before he looked up to see who it had been.

“What the hell, Dick!” He nearly shrieked, ready to tear into the man. Before his mouth even opened, Dick cut him off.

“Sit down. We need to talk.”

Jason’s expression hardened. His eyes narrowed in on Dick’s equally serious ones.

“I got nothing to say to you.” He tried to go around the man but Dick’s hand fell on his shoulder again and pulled him back.

“Great. That means you’ll be able to listen.”

Jason scoffed, relenting. He sat down on the bench and folded his arms, Dick taking the seat across from him. He raised an eyebrow for the older man to speak.

“I think—you and I— we got off to a bad start,” he began, giving Jason a look before the boy could get out his sarcastic remark, “and there are some things we need to work through.”

“Now, I won’t sugarcoat it, Jason. I don’t like you, I don’t like that you’re in any part of my life.”

“FYI, just so you know, you’re doing a pretty shit job at ‘working things through.’”

Dick gave him a pointed look before Jason rolled his eyes and zipped it.

“But,” he continued, “you’re also still supposed to be my brother, and it was wrong of me to comment on your progress or why you were adopted. I was just trying to hit you where it hurts and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

Jason gaped at him, rushing to school his expression before urging Dick to continue. Clearly, the man still had more to say, what with the way he was nervously picking at his nails.

“About what you said earlier…the, uh, part about staying with Bruce. You- don’t tell me you seriously think you have to fight for a place to live.”

His expression tightened, and Jason had to resist the urge to snarl back a nasty reply.

“Oh, shi- crap. Jason.”

The way Dick was looking at him made Jason want to run away from the whole conversation. Like he felt bad. Like he cared.

The man got up from the bench to kneel in front of Jason.

“If you don’t believe anything else I say, Jay, then you have to believe this. Bruce would never make you fight to stay with him. No matter how long you take, how much you fall or make mistakes, Bruce will never send you away. He won’t kick you out, he won’t make you work for his love, and if you wanted to quit skating altogether, you’d still be his son all the same. Nothing could make him send you away, I promise you that.”

The tears began welling in Jason’s eyes halfway through, and he willed himself not to let them fall. Every word was spoken with the utmost sincerity, and yet…

“Jason,” Dick whispered, heartbroken.

“You don’t know that!” Jason shouted, hands tightly gripping his pants. “You don’t!”

Dick gently placed his hands on Jason’s shoulders, his calm, sad eyes meeting Jason’s frustrated, fearful ones.

“You have a home to stay, Jay. You have a family. One that loves you, and if there’s even the chance Bruce goes crazy and says something, you’ll call me and I’ll take care of it.”

The dam finally broke, and Jason threw himself the rest of the way into Dick’s arms, face burying into his chest. His brother’s arms were quick to wrap around him, fingers passing through Jason’s hair.

“Shh…I know..it’s okay, bud, you’re okay.”

Once the tears were wiped and they both pulled away from the hug, Dick promised him that he’d be there for Jason from then on, that he’d become the big brother that he needed. Jason would hold him to it.

——Junior World Championships, Paris, France——

“An astounding program from 14-year-old debuting skater Jason Todd! A beautifully balanced mix of artistry and elements, we have watched as this young boy has shown us the skating skill that many desire and cannot come to par with. The double Axel was gorgeous! Though, without it being a triple, some wonder if it’ll be enough to guarantee Todd gold.”

In short; it wasn’t. Jason had placed 3rd overall and ran straight to the empty lobby before the medal ceremony. Arms wrapped tightly around himself, Jason nearly slid to the ground before a pair of strong arms wrapped around his frame.

“Jason!”

It was just Dick. Hugging him. After Jason placed third.

“Dick, what-?”

“I’m so so proud of you! That was awesome!” Dick pulled back, excitement turning into confusion upon seeing Jason’s downcast face.

“Jay? What’s wrong?”

He shrugged, lip trembling but no signs of tears to be found.

“I didn’t win. I didn’t have a triple Axel in time. If I could’ve just gotten that jump, I would’ve won!”

Dick sighed, connecting the rest of the pieces. His hands remained on Jason’s shoulders, grounding him.

“Little Wing,” a nickname Dick had given them shortly after their first time getting ice cream after practice together, “do you remember what I told you?”

Jason slowly nodded, hanging his head down and refusing to look back at Dick.

“I know.” His voice was little more than a whisper. “Logically, I know. But I still…”

Dick brushed a hand through Jason’s hair. He understood. You could know something, repeating it over and over in your mind like a mantra that it was the truth, but there would always be something in the back of your mind. An evil voice filling your mind with bearish thoughts and false realities.

“If I say you did amazing, how did you do?”

“…good?”

“No.”

“…amazing.” Jason tried again, head lifting enough for Dick to see his face entirely again.

“Exactly. You did amazing, Jay.” He smiled, leaning down to kiss Jason’s hair.

“Now, come on. You have a medal ceremony coming up and I can’t wait to celebrate with Nachos!”

And when they walked back into the main area, and Bruce threw him into a bone-crushing hug and told Jason how proud he was, maybe he could finally start believing that he did have a home, one where he was loved no matter what.

“English, MacTavish”

Arkham Knight! Jason because I love him

Please don’t steal or I’ll be sad (also not comfortable as pfp use unless asked)

The worst part is that this was about three years ago, definitely giving time for her to know about the War on Terror. Many people at my school shared the attitude that if it wasn’t directly impacting them, they didn’t care.

One moment of my life that I will never forget was in my freshman year world history class. I went to a private school in America and was surrounded by kids from rich families who had been living in America for generations.

We had just finished a unit on the foundations of a guerrilla war and my teacher was taking questions. A girl in the back of my class raised her hand and stood to ask. She asked “do wars still happen?”

She asked this question in all seriousness, not a drop of humor in her tone.

And I froze.

A week before this, my home country had fallen into terrible war. Fathers and sons fought alongside each other, mothers buried their sons, gone too soon. The gangs in the streets had put aside their crime to fight for their country, their home because damn it all if we were going to let it be taken. 9 year olds carrying guns and wearing military uniforms every size too large because it was put upon them to protect their village. We all pleaded and begged for the media to recognize us and help us, to save us from the slaughter we faced. The media turned a blind eye and the humanitarians that decide which lives matter and which don’t had decided we weren’t relevant enough to be cared about. Unspeakable crimes against my people fought against by a nation that loves their country like no other. My people lost their lives to protect the future of those who’d come after them and keep the legacy of all who’d come before

And the child of America wonders if wars still happen.

One moment of my life that I will never forget was in my freshman year world history class. I went to a private school in America and was surrounded by kids from rich families who had been living in America for generations.

We had just finished a unit on the foundations of a guerrilla war and my teacher was taking questions. A girl in the back of my class raised her hand and stood to ask. She asked “do wars still happen?”

She asked this question in all seriousness, not a drop of humor in her tone.

And I froze.

A week before this, my home country had fallen into terrible war. Fathers and sons fought alongside each other, mothers buried their sons, gone too soon. The gangs in the streets had put aside their crime to fight for their country, their home because damn it all if we were going to let it be taken. 9 year olds carrying guns and wearing military uniforms every size too large because it was put upon them to protect their village. We all pleaded and begged for the media to recognize us and help us, to save us from the slaughter we faced. The media turned a blind eye and the humanitarians that decide which lives matter and which don’t had decided we weren’t relevant enough to be cared about. Unspeakable crimes against my people fought against by a nation that loves their country like no other. My people lost their lives to protect the future of those who’d come after them and keep the legacy of all who’d come before

And the child of America wonders if wars still happen.

Batfam Mob!AU {Welcome to the Family}

chap 1

Welcome to the Family (Batfamily Mob!AU)

He worked quietly, quickly.

His movements were unpracticed yet showed signs of quickly developing.

The only evidence of his work was the occasional clinking of the bolts in his pockets.

Jason felt the gravel stabbing into his knees as he worked on the car’s tires. He felt the steady breeze pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes. He felt the pang of hunger in his stomach reminding him why he was doing this.

Jason hadn’t bothered to check the plate on the car. Whether it was out of disinterest or fear, he wouldn’t admit it. If asked, he’d say that it was because he didn’t care. No matter who the car belonged to, their tires would be his to sell now. Their fault for leaving it there anyway.

Yep.

That was the truth.

Certainly not out of fear that the license plate spelled out the 5-letter name that all Gothamites recognized. Nope. Not at all.

It wasn’t like it mattered now anyway. Jason was almost done, halfway through the third tire. The two that were already removed were propped up against the brick wall. Just two more to go. Two more and Jason could sell the tires for food. For shelter. For the unsteady promise of safety in a cheap hotel. There was no doubt in his mind that the tires were expensive. The whole car looked expensive!

It was sleek and black, windows tinted to where Jason couldn’t see the inside even if he squints. It was polished to perfection and showed no evident signs of damage, a rare sight for a Gotham City car. Surely its owner wouldn’t mind if Jason just took a little something, right? Just enough to last him a month with food and decent shelter. It’s not like it would be a big problem. Anyone that could afford a car like that could surely afford to get its tires replaced.

Jason couldn’t wait to take a hot shower. The grime that coated him could have been weeks old and his curly hair was completely tangled, itching at his scalp. His skin felt sticky through the coat of sweat on his skin. The dream of finally being able to be clean inspired him to work quicker, finishing with the third tire and moving to the fourth.

Each spot where a tire had previously been was replaced with empty space, only having a brick to hold it off the ground. The hubcaps he’d picked off were on the ground next to him, not too far in fear of someone stealing them. He worked even quicker, his movements turning sloppy. It was getting closer to 9:00 PM, the time when most successful citizens got off work to go home.

It wasn’t unlikely that the owner of the car was part of that group and would be soon returning to his tireless vehicle. He was so close, halfway done with the fourth tire and slipping bolts into his pocket.

If he pulled this off, he’d-

“I’ll admit, this isn’t the strangest thing I’ve seen today.”

Practice was the only thing that kept Jason from flinching as he turned to the direction of the voice, stance steadying into a kneel as the tire iron was wielded in a defensive hold. All Jason saw was a tall silhouette at the end of the long alley, barely illuminated by the streetlamp at the back of the alley. The man kept speaking.

“Do you know whose car that is, kid?”

Jason hadn’t dropped his defensive, replying with a snarl.

“It’s my hit! Go get your own!” His tone dripped with a heavy crime alley drawl.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

The superiority the older man carried only succeeded in pissing Jason off, his reply eager to get the man away from him.

“Whatever idiot decided to leave it here! Go get your own grab!”

Why couldn’t he just leave him alone? He found it first!

The man let out a huff of amusement before stepping further into view. While his face was now visible, Jason found no recognition in his features and stood to his feet, raising the tire iron in front of him. The man, noticing the young boy’s defensive position, raised his hands in faux surrender.

“Kid, that’s Bruce Wayne’s car.”

Jason felt his heart drop to his feet along with the tire iron. A step back, followed by another and another before he was able to see the plate on the back of the car.

‘WAYNE’ was written in bold letters, sinking Jason’s fate deeper into his mind. The car now seemed easily recognizable, like he’d seen it a hundred times before back when his father would watch the news and Jason would peek in to see.

Everyone knew Bruce Wayne. The orphan who’d inherited his parent’s business and operation after their untimely passing. The boy who people assumed was no threat compared to his parents. The man who’d proven people wrong when he rose to power and slaughtered his parent’s killer. The man took Gotham’s criminal underworld by storm, ruling with an iron fist and crushing any who dared to cross him. 

It took years for the mob territory to settle before it was disrupted once more by the arrivement of a younger boy. An acrobat who had just lost his parents the night Wayne visited the circus.

Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson was adopted by Bruce soon after. He took quickly to his new lifestyle and followed in Bruce’s footsteps, electrocuting Zucco to death.

Grayson, a genius kid raised into his step-father’s line of work. He was almost scarier than Bruce Wayne himself. Almost.

Wayne was many things, defined by rumors. Some say cruel, unforgiving. Others say powerful, cunning. Right now, it didn’t matter what they said.

Because Jason was dead either way.

With a heavy gulp, Jason reached down and grabbed the tire iron, continuing his work. If he was gonna die, he’d rather it be an in-the-moment kind of thing rather than hiding from the mob for a week before being found and killed kind-of-thing. Despite his fear, Jason put on a brave façade.

“Who ‘er you s’posed to be, huh? Gonna call Wayne’s dogs on me or somethin’?”

Another step put the man 10 feet away from Jason, exposing his blue eyes to the light from the shadows.

“Bud, I’m Dick Grayson, and that,” he pointed to the car “is our ride here”

Jason couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t feel anything but fear at that moment. Not when the tire iron fell out of his hand and certainly not when his knees lost their support and dropped him into a sit. His mind ran a mile a minute, dropping thought after thought.

That was Dick Grayson.

Dick Grayson caught him.

He said ‘our’

He wasn’t alone

Someone was with him

As if on queue, another man stepped into place beside Grayson. A taller, bulkier man.

Bruce Wayne, his mind unhelpfully supplied.

“Everything okay, Dick? Did something-“

Wayne paused, eyes darting between the car with the missing tires and the dirty boy on the ground with the tire iron at his feet. He seemed to be at a loss for words before finally settling on a horrifying sentence.

“Did you…? Did you prop up a multi-million dollar car with cracked bricks?”

Multi...

Multi-million dollar car

Jason was gonna die. They were gonna kill him- no. No, they wouldn’t kill him. They’d do something much worse. They’d torture him- no doubt. They- they could do anything. He had to do something.

“Seriously, Bruce? That’s what you decide to say?” 

Grayson spoke but Jason couldn’t hear him. Wouldn’t hear him.

He had to fix the grave he’d dug himself.

His mouth felt dry as he searched for something to say.

“I- wait- you don’t understand. It’s not what it looks like.” Seriously? His son just saw you!

As if reaching the same point, Grayson replied, “So, you weren’t just jacking the tires off the car?”

He needed to get out of this situation. He couldn’t run, they were blocking his only exit and Jason doubted he’d been able to duck through them. His breathing was getting quicker as he struggled to get air.

“I had no choice! I’m- I’m sorry. I’ll make- I’ll make things up to you just-“ he cut off with a shudder. “I’ll put them- the tires- back”

Wayne nodded to Grayson, who took gradual steps to where the tires leaned against a wall, before turning back to Jason. “We’d appreciate that” he offered a kind smile, one that surely promised hell if Jason didn’t comply.

Jason nodded and shakily pushed himself to his feet, forcing his legs to support his weight. As he turned to grab the tires, his jaw dropped in shock. Grayson was rolling a tire towards the car. 

He was so fucking dead.

Jason got to work and began tightening the bolts to the tires on the car. He really tried to ignore how Wayne was now pushing tires too, trying to focus on the feeling of his sweating palms on the cool hubcaps.

Finishing the second tire, he tried to move on to the third before a hand on his shoulder stopped him from walking to the other side of the car. Jason had to force himself to look at the man.

Grayson stared dead into his eyes, pulling Jason back a few steps with his suffocating grip. Away from the car. Grayson turned Jason to look at him before kneeling down on the gravel, no doubt dirtying his expensive suit.

Grayson took his hand off Jason’s shoulder and turned his palm out, seemingly waiting for Jason to drop something into it. 

What?

What could he possibly want? Jason had no money on him, that’s why he was even stealing the tires!

What was he gonna do? Was he really going to die before his 11th birthday? No- He couldn’t- 

“The bolts?”

Jason blinked at him, taking a second to understand before hurriedly reaching into his pocket and holding out a handful of bolts to Grayson. The man took it with a smile and handed them to Wayne, who grabbed them and proceeded to put the tires back on himself.

Jason couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight.

Bruce Wayne was fixing Jason’s mess.

The billionaire boss was getting his hands and clothes dirty fixing Jason’s attempted thievery.

He’d be lucky if they allowed him death.

“Kid, look at me”

Fear was the only thing that forced Jason to look at him, meeting his gaze.

“What’s your name?”

His eyes seemed kind yet cold all the same. He wore the notorious Grayson smile that he used when he wanted people to obey his will.

“I'm- um…It’s Jason, sir. Boss. Mr. Grayson.”

The man had the nerve to look amused at his situation.

“Jason. Where are your parents? Is there someone we can talk to?”

There wasn’t. His father was currently serving a sentence in Blackgate and his mother had made the irreversible decision that drugs were more important.

“No, Mr. Grayson. ‘s just me.”

His smile faltered.

Jason didn’t understand. Was that not the right answer? What did he want him to say?

“Your mother? Father?”

Jason shook his head, fighting back the tears threatening to form. The man’s frown deepened as Jason tried to find a way- some way- to lessen his consequences.

“Please- I won’t- I swear, I won’t tell nobody. I’ll- I won’t ever come back- Sir, I’ll- just please don’t- I can’t”

His breaths became shallow and quick, barely making their way into Jason’s lungs before being pushed out. He couldn’t breathe. He swore there was someone talking to him but he couldn’t hear it. Another voice joined in. It sounded so distant and-

“Jason!”

That was what snapped his attention back to the present. He was sitting on the ground now, both his shoulders in different men’s grips.

“Jason, breathe. In for six, hold, out for six. In for six, hold, out for six” his expression showed concern but Jason knew better than to believe the facade. He tried his best to follow Grayson’s directions, hoping to not make him angrier than he undoubtedly was.

His breathing returned to a frightened, normal pace.

“We didn’t mean to scare you, Jason. Are you okay?”

A final, pleading

“Please”

Wayne sighed.

“We’re not going to hurt you, son. We just-” another sigh, a glance back from Grayson.

He seemed to step back, finding a new point.

“Are you hungry?”

…

Jason blinked.

Because what?

Was he gonna drug him or something?

Slip something into his food?

He was gonna try to cover it up, wasn’t he?

“No! I mean- I’m full sir” He just refused food from Wayne. Someone should dig his grave. “Really, I don’t wanna be trouble” Jason gulped while all Wayne did was raise a brow in question.

“It’s no trouble at all. Alfred would be happy to make food for you.”

“Yeah! B just doesn’t want you to stay hungry. He’s a softie like that. Plus, Alfred is making pasta tonight!” Grayson chimed in.

Wayne? A softie? Somebody kill Jason now.

Or maybe they wouldn’t have to since he was sure they’d kill him soon anyway. Whoever ‘Alfred’ was would probably sneak something into his food.

But what more could Jason do? It seemed he already tested their patience enough. 

So with a sigh, he gave up, hung his head, and agreed to come with them. He was led to the now fixed car and sat into the back seat, Wayne driving and Grayson riding shotgun.

You need to know that I am absolutely LIVING for your batfam tweets, I refuse to believe that Jason would be anything but an absolute troll and I love it and your content 💜

Thank youuuuuu!

I literally love reading your guys’ comments and repost tags. I’m so glad that people are enjoying it!

You guys are so awesomeee

Later…

hello!! i’d really love to know what you use for your twitter edits (for mysterious social media fanfic purposes) thank you very much

Hey! Thanks for the ask!

I use a website on google called tweet Gen

(I have no idea if that’s to right link but if it’s not, just look up fake tweet Gen and it’s the one with the blue and white icon)

Yes, this chapter is intentionally short. Yes, there will be multiple parts. No, I don’t know how to turn comments on. Yes, you can put in an ask for me to add you to my tag list for this story. Please, tell me how to turn comments on.

Warnings: mentions of trafficking (I swear nothing terrible happens)

Over and Under the Bazaar

The kingdom of Gotham was a cruel one. Crime was higher than any neighboring kingdom and the area so large that the King’s feeble attempts to stop it never made it past Bristole. Trash and human remains littered every sandy corner, only lingering there for a day before ‘grave robbers’ came in and snatched it up, another soon taking its place. Starvation was ever so common and took the lives of many civilians, most being children whose mothers could no longer feed them. Many fathers left after the mother died and their children were left to rot and fight to survive from ages as young as 6.

The hot air was almost never ending, only taking its break during the late night, when no sane soul would dare to step out.

It is for this reason that the night was the best time for any with malicious intent to strike. This fact was as well known as any, a common knowledge for any wishing to prevent the thievery of their market goods. Merchants would lock up shop and inventory the second the air turned too cool to sweat at. This time proved not only dangerous for anyone wishing to make a profit but also those at the bottom of the chain.

Thieves, street scum, prostitutes, and every other name you could think of for someone who had no other wish but survival. This was the unfortunate case for a young boy named Jason Todd, who walked with only his name and the clothes on his back.

Yet he walked with purpose, nearly bare feet not hesitating on the burning sand of the bazaar. Though it was still early in the day, he had prolonged his hunger for far too long and could not longer wait to snatch a meal, however small it would be. Sweat and grime dug into his skin, arms and legs wavering with heat and exhaustion.

He wished he could feel the cool air on his face, gently brushing through his tangled hair. Alas, the hood and robe he wore must not come off. If it were to show even the smallest sliver of his face, he’d be immediately caught by the king’s corrupt guard, and who knows what would happen then.

As people walked past him, he ducked between the stands selling fabric, the intricately woven cloth hiding his features from any wandering eyes. Before he moved on to duck through the next strand, he slipped a short square of cloth off the stand and tucked it into his waist band, unnoticed by the distracted merchant.

He passed through several more tables, not taking anything else but a ring from a jewelry stand which he could pawn later. He was focused and determined to reach his end goal. His eyes narrowed as he found the stand he was looking for.

It wasn’t much to anyone who looked with only their eyes. Nearly stale bread, apples needing to be sold before they rot, eggs with yolkes so pale you could mistake it for foggy glass. Overall, nothing to behold and instead something to quickly walk past before the merchant tried to talk to you.

However, Jason did not just look with his eyes but with his stomach also. The pale eggs seemed rich and golden to him, the apples seeming ever so ripe and perfect. He wanted ever so badly to just sprint there and start shoving things in his mouth. To just taste even a drop of the juicy apple or the thick yolk of the egg. Though, he knew he couldn’t. He’d be caught no sooner than he could swallow. He had to plan this out carefully.

Ever so gently, he stood to his feet from his position on the floor and walked innocently to the rotten stand. The merchant noticed him instantly and grinned, being so new to the market he couldn’t tell the difference between the appearance of a customer and that of a thief. The man spoke first, excitement at the thought of selling his stock seeping into his voice

“Well, hungry are you? I imagine you’ll find lots to want here, boy. Please, do take and look and consider your purchase.”

His smile was all rotten teeth, dark yellow and corroded from years of neglect and it took everything in Jason to not let the grimace show in his expression.

“I wasn’t looking to buy anything, sir.” The gotham drawl sunk deep into his voice, “just wanted to know if you’re the man people are talking about”

At this, the merchant was confused, making hand gestures that urged Jason to elaborate, so he did, continuing to speak with his eyes wide and innocent.

“Aren’t you the guy who’s wife has been with every woman in the market? I just saw her going off with the fresh fish merchant and I wanted to know if it was you”

The mans face immediately split into rage before he yelled his curses and stomped off, eager to find the man sleeping with his face. He absence left Jason the perfect opening to take what he wished from the stand. Any merchant worth his salt would have seen through the trick and called the king’s knights on him. But this man was new, so new that any other merchant that overheard dared not to interfere, not wanting to have any ties to the foolish man.

Jason stuffed his pockets full of old bread and cheese, slipping an apple into his mouth and biting into it to keep it in place. He took a handful of blueberries, the only perfect thing on the stand, and wrapped it in the cloth his stole earlier, slipping into his pocket.It would definitely hold him over for another week as long as he was careful to ration it.

Quickly after this, Jason safely departed to his hideout, ready to hide away the food until it was needed. His slipped the hood off his head and put a skip in his walk. Wasn’t it perfect today? Free food and he didn’t even get caught!

.

At this moment, Jason would like to go out and make a public statement that it was not his fault he jinxed himself and that he would like to publicly apologize to anyone who took his earlier celebration as a threat.

Currently, Jason was cornered between an alley wall and a gang of 5 burly men, each holding either a knife or net. Trafficking was unfortunately common in Crime Alley and apparently, these men saw Jason as the perfect fit for whatever they wanted from him. The apple had long since fallen out of his mouth when he began running from the men. He would have gone back to pick it up but the men were gaining on him and he was forced to keep running.

This worked against him though as his focus remained on his lost apple and he unknowingly cornered himself by running into an alleyway far from anyone that could help him. The men themselves were fairly large but also young, wearing thick, hooded cloaks that shielded their eyes from the harsh sun. The two men with the curved knives were moving in front of the others, arms outstretched to grab him as the men behind kept the net steady. Jason tensed, his tightened fists digging his nails into his palms.

“C’mere kid. You don’ gotta make this hard. If you’re one of ‘em lucky ones, you might even get a rich fella. Ain’t that nice?”

“Fuck you!” Jason snarled

The man Jason supposed to be their leader, strung in tattoos, barked out a laugh.

“Well, that wasn’t ‘ery kind, was it?”

“Neither is this!”

Wide blue eyes darted around the alley, searching for any possible way of escape as he racked his brain for ideas. When Jason came up empty, he swore under his breath and switched to the last thing he could think of. Was it stupid? Incredibly. Was it more likely to get him killed? Oh, absolutely. Was he gonna do it anyway? Of course he is.

“I don’t think you wanna do that, mister”

The man poorly crafted sincere expression crumbled into confusion before spreading into amusement, the other men following suit.

“Yeah? And why do ya say that, kid? What, you gonna call for your mommy? Gonna tell her to save ya from the big, bad man?”

They all split into laughter, some finding it so humorous that they nearly dropped onto the floor in a mix of laughter and coughing. Jason felt the dread rise into his throat, gripping his airways in a manner that made him want to claw at his chest until he could breathe normally again. Tears fought at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill as his voice suddenly felt too weak to form strong and confident sentences. His false bravado was gone and he could only do so much to salvage his escape attempt.

“Because my dad- is uh- my dad is the bat! Yeah, he’s Batman! So- unless you wanna- you wanna mess with him, you better leave me alone!”

It didn’t seem like it was possible for the men to be laughing any harder.

“Yeah, kid?” The man spoke between his wheezes “your papa gonna hurt us? The bat is your daddy, huh?”

This was it. Jason was going to be caught. He spent so long surviving on the streets just to get caught trying to eat breakfast.

What else could he do? They’d catch him, tie him down, and sell him to whatever buyer put a bid worthy of a dirty, street rat. No, he couldn’t. He- he didn’t want this, no

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?”

The voice came from above the alleyway, Jason and the men looking up to see who it came from. The voice light but firm all the same, laced in a facade of joy with a nearly blinding smile, something dark beneath it.

Nightwing, Bludhaven’s knight.

The men stuttered backward, only the foolish man in front standing ground.

“It’s none of ya business, ya damn bird. What, you tryin to meddle in our matters? Stay the hell out of it!” He barked, hands shaking despite his tone.

“I think it is seeing how that’s my brother you’re cornering”

The blue and black bat swept down and jumped straight into combat with the other men.

A bit of hope swelled in Jason’s heart before dying out as soon as it came.

Nightwing only hurt bad guys, like murderers and traffickers.

And thieves.

No

No, he was playing along-

Which meant that he was gonna take Jason too.

The people he would be sold would be terrible, vile in every way for even thinking about buying a child for personal pleasure, let alone actually doing it.

But Nightwing? He would play a show of being his brother to save him then take Jason for himself. All the bats were scary. They were also huge and could easily overpower him, not like that was hard to do.

Maybe

Maybe he could slip away while they fought? Find a way to climb onto the out-of-reach fire escape…

Jason could barely debate this before the fight was over, Nightwing victorious. The bat turned to Jason and approached cautiously, he stance held at a light crouch and relaxed, seemingly trying not to intimidate the young boy.

“Hey kid. You alright? Did they do anything? Where are your parents? Are they around here somewhere” the man looked around, as if attempting to search for them

Or checking for witnesses

The questions barely registered in his mind as the tears he’d been trying to hard to push down finally slipped out, streaming in waterfalls down his face. The heavy tears washed through the dirt on his face as Nightwing turned back and panicked.

“Woah, kid. It’s okay, they can’t hurt you anymore, I promise” the man kneeled down to Jason’s level and out his hands on the other’s shoulders, attempting to ground him “they’re, uh, asleep. You don’t have to cry”

The touch could barely make him flinch as the horror flashing across his face, every coherent thought turning into pleading babbles.

“Please-please, I’m sorry. What- whatever it is, im so sorry- no, no no - stop- please” his breath was coming in short gasps,“im sorry- sorry sorry- don’t do it- please - don’t you- don’t do it. I’ll leave and- and I’ll never come back”

It was like Nightwing’s face shuttered, flashing between so many different expressions before settling on one of sympathy.

“No, no kid. Nothing is going to happen, I-“ he took a deep breath. “Breathe for a second. What’s your name?”

His name?

His name. He wanted his name, he could do that.

“Jason”

“Jason, no one is going to hurt you, okay? No one will touch you. I’m just going to call some nice knights to find your parents okay? You’ll be back home in no time, I swear”

No, no.

Nightwing wasn’t going to take him for himself, he was going to hand him over.

To the corrupt knights of Gotham.

The ones who paid the kids on street corners and took them away for a night.

The ones who arrested innocents just for being good looking so they could get time with them.

The ones who had sold his mother the drugs that got her killed.

He couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t.

As soon as Nightwing got up and took his hands off him, Jason booked it across the alleyway, took a sharp turn, and ran.

Ran till he could hide from the ones whose eyes watched Gotham.

This account’s master list and everything is currently going through a bit of a redesign so give me a bit to get things done <3

COMPLETED - Welcome to the Family - in Jason’s defense, how was he supposed to know that the very expensive looking car he was jacking the tires from belonged to Mob Boss Bruce Wayne? It’s not like it was his fault! It was Wayne’s fault for leaving the tires out in the open to be stolen. Wayne later uses this same logic to say it’s not his fault Jason was just out in the open to be adopted. {chapter 1} {chapter 2} {chapter 3}

Incorrect batfam tweets: birthday, doxxing, mistletoes, robin’s pants, fans, accidents, verify Jason Todd, batsignal, swear jar, last names, Gotham U, Aquarium,

Things my friends said as batfam quotes

Dick: JASON IF YOU DONT STOP ATTACKING US, I WILL REPORT THE CRIME ALLEY DRUG CARTEL

Tim: isn’t that a good thing?

Jason: not in my line of work, it isn’t.

Tim: *crying because he’s being beat in Titans Tower*

Jason: will you shut up? You’re interrupting my inner monologue

Dick: Jason, listen to me. I need you to go out and make the world a better place.

Jason: why is it that when others donate one kidney, they’re the ‘hero’ and they get an award but when I donate 7, I’m the ‘murderer’ and I’m being sent to Blackgate.

Jason: okay, so hear me out

Bruce: I regret to inform you that I will not be hearing you out due to the fact that I simply don’t want to

Alfred, tired of people not eating during dinner and being hungry later: No. No, I will not make you food. You’re going to eat your creamy, premium mayonnaise and you’re going to like it.

Yes, this happened