kelvari
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Latest Posts by kelvari
Captain Marvel gets kidnapped and put under a magical truth spell except it’s the Marvel & Billy Are Separate People AU so the kidnappers don’t get any info on his (Billy’s) secret identity
Kidnapper: “Alright Marvel! What’s your real name?”
Captain Marvel: “Captain Marvel”
Kidnapper: “what??? No! I mean your real name!”
Cap: “my real name is Captain Marvel”
Kidnapper: “what?! Ugh nevermind. How old are you?”
Cap: “I’m supposed to keep count of that?”
Kidnapper, getting more frustrated by the second: “just- just give me a rough estimate”
Cap: “at least a few million years, though I was asleep for a few thousand”
Kidnapper: “…”
Kidnapper, moving on: “well, where do you live?”
Cap: *shrugs*
Kidnapper: “you can’t just shrug! Where do you live?!?!”
Cap: “the rock, I guess”
Kidnapper: “the rock- WHAT IS THE ROCK?”
Cap: “basically a big cave”
Kidnapper: “YOU LIVE IN A CAVE???”
Its a terrifying scene. The camera angle revealing parts of a science lab straight out of hell. Kitchen knifes and scalpels lay dripping on a table.
On the dissection table- because thats all it could be- lays a small child. Small but noticable gills on the neck, the occasional fleck of scales and webbed fingers mark them as merfolk.
Viewers watch on in horror as the table is bloodied. A steady incision made in the left leg. The Justice League had been contacted but there was no indication they would make it in time to help.
A large Bang! went off in the background of the video, clearly catching the duo off guard. The man turned to his (wife?) with a weird moniter in his hands going off the charts and with an excited yelp they both took off running up the steps that were just barely in frame behind them.
A few long moments later, two teens sneak into the lab. The boy rushed over to unchain their parents 'test subject' while the girl kept watch.
Freshly released limbs had bloody wounds rubbed into the pinned down areas and quiet whispers of empathy were only just picked up by the audio. One of the viewers pointed out that the boy himself had scars in similar places.
The boy picked up the kid and the trio quickly slipped away out of camera view. Soft thuds mark their escape from the house, seemingly unaware of the Livestream their parents were apparently trying to make.
--------------------------
The story makes international news and leaves everyone on high alert. Government agencies scramble to prove they had no connection to the couple, the GIW undergos mass arrest when their names Maddie and Jack Fenton come up on their payroll. A channel is made to document any sightings of the kids.
The first one is posted after a day. It's security footage from a fast food restaruant. Four teens- the two from before plus a goth and someone named ''Tucker''- along with the comparitively tiny Mer sit in a booth. ''Tucker'' and "Sam'' argue about possible dietary restriction before seemingly ordering one of everything. There is soup, and a burger, the largest cup filled with water they could find in the back, chicken tenders and salad.
When the server goes to deliver everything, the four watch them like hawks, understandable given the previous day.
(Did any of them even know Half the world knew what went down? )
(Did any of them know how Aquaman was taking the news of one of his subjects being injured like that? )
( Did any of them realize that their choice to protect the kid was one of the main reasons war hadn't been declared yet on the human race?)
Jasmine is heard softly encouraging the tiny Mer to eat something, anything and eventually the soup is downed and apparently liked enough that she gets up to order more.
Right before they leave, while under the relative safety of a roof, they swap the bandages wrapped around most of the kids leg and arms and slowly tell them about future plans despite the fact that they probably can't understand the language.
(Jasmine points at a laptop screen filled with a view of the ocean. "We" she circles the group with her pinky "are going there to get you home." The atlantian can't speak english but the way their eyes light up and they relax further into Sams side shows they understand the basic message)
(The sight- of the child definitely scared but trusting them enough to get so close- helps calm the atlantians with access to the internet. Somewhere Aquaman finds himself able to breathe slightly easier.)
Dick, tired after another session of being bullied by his own siblings: God, do we even have someone in this family who is accepting?
Tim: Well, not me and Steph, obviously
Damian: I am not in this particular competition. Perhaps Cain?
Stephanie, scoffing: Absolutely not my beautiful Cass. She judges you hard every day in my dms.
Dick, hopeful: Duke?
Damian, who had been shit-talking about others with Duke for a year now: You have a wrong idea in mind, Grayson.
Cassandra, appearing out of nowhere: Jason.
Tim, instantly protesting: No! He is like, professional hater.
Cassandra, shrugging: Does he hate things? Yes. Does he judge? No. Try admitting the most different things to him — you will see.
Everyone: ...
Everyone: On it.
Tim, eying at Jason, who sits in the Batcave during one of the missions: Jason?
Jason: Mhm?
Tim: Urgh... I fucked up. Forgot about Bart's birthday.
Jason: Okay? Just aplogise and gift him stuff.
Tim: ...Okay, wtf, since when you are so understanding?
Jason: Wtf?
Duke: Urgh, Jason?
Jason: What?
Duke: I got in the fight in school.
Jason: Well, you clearly won?
Duke: Yeah, sure.
Jason: Cool. Have fun dealing with the aftermath.
Duke: ...
Duke: ...Thanks?
Stephanie: I eat pineapple pizza and coat my watermelon with Nutella.
Jason:
Jason: ...Okay? Bon appetite?
Stephanie: !!!
Damian: I probably killed someone by the accident.
Jason: Aha. Is that a request for my cleaning services or just an information to keep in mind?
Damian: ...Second one.
Jason: Ok. Have fun.
Dick, a week after: Man, okay, you are clearly not high, I checked. What is the secret of such an angelic level of acceptance while being a hater????
Jason: I follow the Idk+Idc rule. I don't know and I don't care.
Dick: But don't you feel outrageous? At least sometimes? LIKE, MAN, WATERMELON AND NUTELLA?
Jason: I don't know. I don't care.
Jason, after a beat of silence: Unless it is Bruce. Him, I judge.
Dick: ...Of course.
The Rage Room
Danny has learnt many things about ghost over the years. The top one being that ghost r emotional beings, in a whole different way than humans r. Ghost feel thinking at 200% compared to humans. Bc of this emotions that can already be difficult for humans r completely uncontrollable for ghosts. This, along with some help from Jazz, gives him the idea to give ghost a space where they can freely let out their emotions.
So he opens a rage room. One that is far more durable that any that currently exists so that even the most powerful of ghost can go all out.
It’s instantly a hit and quickly becomes all the rage (haha) amount the undead.
Because of this, it isn’t long until deadman hears about it. He doesn’t think much of it but he does decide to mention the place to Nightwing.
Nightwing is intrigued by the idea of a rage room that could handle even the most powerful of people so decided to give it a go.
He absolutely loves it. For one the guy running the place didn’t even blink at a fully suited up vigilante walking in. Two, the place really was suited for even the most destructive of rages. On top of that, Dick had a lot more pent up anger that he realised until he was knee deep in broken junk.
10/10 experience. Would recommend
And he does. To everyone.
It’s amazing how many heroes have some serious pent up aggression. 
I have this angsty headcanon that, when on the streets, Jason was like the communal dad. At twelve years old he was this mentor/parental figure to about half the younger street kids. Sure, some of the teens did this too—they would watch out for the little ones, bring them food or money when they ahd extra, stuff like that. But somehow this twelve year old kid ended up being better at it than them. He knew pretty much every younger street kid in the alley by name, he made a point to (gruffly) tell the newer kids how to survive, what shelters were to be trusted (none), stuff like that. When a younger kid wanted something as simple as someone to guard them while they slept at night, a hug, a lookout during a pickpocketing, anything, he was the go-to guy. He knew pretty much everyone. He knew who to trust, who needed what, who had what. He knew who was in what gang, which Bad Guy™️ was planning something which night.
he denied it, of course. He was NOT a parental figure. Hell, he was barely a teenager! But the moment Jamie (a newer street kid) needed a sandwich or El (9 years old) needed a hug, he was there to give it. Didn’t matter if he had to pick pockets all day to get that sandwich, or if hugging the little girl reminded him so much of his mom that he got teary. He did it anyway, because that’s who he always was—someone who took care of others.
Everyone on the street knew—if you needed something, you asked Todd. Whether that be a hug, protection, guidance, just a dry place to sleep. He fights scrappy, but he’ll protect you from pretty much anything if you’re young enough. If you go looking for handouts you don’t actually need (if you’re part of a gang picking on the younger kids) you’d better hope he left his tire iron at his newest hideout, becuase you don’t want that shit bashing your knee in.
So anyway. When Bruce decides to take in this street kid, Jason accepts. Not becuase he really trusts the guy, but because he’s filthy rich. That’s useful.
I think, on some level, that Shen Yuan is like enrichment for Airplane Bro's enclosure. I think Airplane Bro kind of fucking LOVES having this guy around. Like, I do think their relationship is nuanced, weird and full of contradictions and not always good for them, but I also think that some chaotic part of Shang Qinghua honestly likes having his #1 hater weirdo running around completely fucking up his world.
Shen Qingqiu, grabbing Shang Qinghua by the shoulders: "Why didn't anyone TELL ME that Binghe is GAY NOW?! I'm going to die because of MONSTER DICK?!?!?!"
Shang Qinghua: (internally, probably only half-consciously) "Incredible. Amazing. How did I live without you? You torture me with your bullshit. You complete me in every possible way. I think we might be soulmates and we should make out about it. I hate you. I love you. You mean nothing to me and everything to me. This isn't your story and you stole it from me. I wrote this for you without even knowing you existed. You are a fascinating mystery that I will never solve. I will throw you under the bus at the first opportunity and yet I can't stop risking my life to help you. Your stupid game of gay murder chicken with my emotionally and mentally unstable protagonist is going to destroy the world and kill us all and I've never felt more alive. You have changed me as a person. Let's do this forever."
Shang Qinghua: (out loud) "Lol, sucks to be you, bro. At least you can get laid."
when jason died, they buried him with the possessions that he carried on him all the time. there was a pocket knife tucked into his sock, the bracelet on his wrist from catherine that he never took off, a tangled pair of earbuds in his back pocket, and, in the top pocket of his jacket, the cellphone that bruce bought for him after he was adopted.
that cellphone stayed with jason in his grave. went with him when he dug his way out. somehow stayed on his person when he was taken by the league, and he managed to convince talia to let him keep it throughout all his training.
he doesn’t know why, maybe as a grief thing or maybe just because bruce forgot and it’s not like the bill effected him in any way, but he never stopped paying jason’s phone bill. his number’s still active, still working after all this time. even weirder, but dick started adopting the tradition of adding his dead brother’s phone number to each and every family group chat any of them created after ethiopia. again, jason doesn’t know why. maybe it was dick’s way of carrying his memory with them; including him in family conversations even if they all thought the number was connected to a long buried phone in the pocket of a long dead boy.
the point is that jason wasn’t dead any more. and all throughout his time at the league, he gets to watch the family chats. the mission statuses, the arguments, the rapid spiral every chat went through where they started off using it as a serious bat communication centre only for dick or tim to send a meme and instantly spiral into nothing but chaos that bruce would neither take part in or attempt to stop. jason spectates it all, always fingering the keypad but never actually typing out a message. he came close when there was a heated debate between steph and dick about the best donut types and he knew they were both absolutely fucking wrong, but luckily tim came in to educate them on the right choice last second and jason was saved from having to reveal himself.
the closest call was when little damian got a hold of his phone, attracted to the bright colours of the block game jason had been absently playing out of boredom while ra’s droned on about whatever had pissed him off that day. he’d let the kid play, sat on his lap and eagerly jabbing at the screen, and jason had only looked away for at most a minute before he’d turned back to find the screen open on the family chat, damian having accidentally clicked on the camera button and taken a selfie of the two that he’d been about to send through. luckily, jason deleted it in time, but he became much more careful about letting the kid play with his shit after that.
this is all just a long winded explanation and backstory for and au i think would be funny where jason’s reveal is literally just him deciding to fuck with his family by randomly dropping in through text like:
-in the chat-
bruce: status report.
dick: hungry :( but good!
steph: seconded, im fine
tim: drug bust went to plan, on way back to cave uninjured
cass: ^ same answer
babs: everything seems calm from what i can tell
jason: a little claustrophobic but the coffin’s kinda homely so ig no complaints from me
.
.
.
several people are typing…
The Batfam definitely has a group chat called "Official Mission Communications ONLY" that Bruce created with the strictest instructions about its purpose.
It lasted exactly 12 hours before Dick sent a meme.
Now it's just chaos, but Bruce never leaves because secretly it's how he keeps tabs on everyone.
Every few weeks he'll respond to 74 messages of nonsense with a single "Focus." and everyone behaves for approximately 5 minutes.
The real mission communications happen in individual texts directly to Bruce, who feels a tiny spark of relief each time his phone pings with "OFFICIAL MISSION CHAT (217 unread messages)" because it means they're all still alive enough to be annoying.
Occasionally in the middle of arguments about cereal rankings and who stole whose equipment, Bruce will just type "Status?" and everyone immediately responds with their location and condition. No one ever comments on this ritual, but everyone participates without fail.
Even Jason, who once replied "bleeding out in an alley but the cereal argument is worth it" which resulted in five vigilantes converging on his location in under three minutes.
The most treasured screenshot in Tim's blackmail folder is from the one time Bruce accidentally sent "proud of you all" at 3:42 AM after a particularly rough night. No one has ever mentioned it directly, but Damian has it printed and hidden in his sketchbook.
Interviewer, catching Damian in costume: Robin! Can you explain the process of picking up Robin or passing on the mantle?
Damian, mildly annoyed at Bruce at the moment: It's quite simple. Batmam steals young children from their bed, usually nine or ten or so. Then he takes you to his lair and give you a deal.
Damian: If you can beat him in a game of your choosing, he will train you to be Robin. If you lose, you are eaten. I beat him in a classic fencing game. He's quite good with swords, but he wasn't very good with the sport itself.
Tim, standing next to him: Yeah, I beat him at a memory card game. I like totally cheated, but I'm too old for him to eat now, so ot doesn't matter.
Damian, nodding: Yes. The worst part of the job is disposing of failed Robins bones. He usually sucks them clean and leaves them all over the floor.
Tim: Yeah, its messy. But after you hit, like 15 he stops trying to eat you, so that's cool.
Damian: I have not yet reached 15. I'm still in danger. If you have more questions, ask Nightwing, as he was the first to avoid being eaten.
-
Same interviewer, at a different date: Mr. Nightwing. Is it true Batman tries to eat potential Robins?
Dick, who has no idea what she's taking about: Yeah, it's really scary. His jaw unhinges like a snake.
when jason died, they buried him with the possessions that he carried on him all the time. there was a pocket knife tucked into his sock, the bracelet on his wrist from catherine that he never took off, a tangled pair of earbuds in his back pocket, and, in the top pocket of his jacket, the cellphone that bruce bought for him after he was adopted.
that cellphone stayed with jason in his grave. went with him when he dug his way out. somehow stayed on his person when he was taken by the league, and he managed to convince talia to let him keep it throughout all his training.
he doesn’t know why, maybe as a grief thing or maybe just because bruce forgot and it’s not like the bill effected him in any way, but he never stopped paying jason’s phone bill. his number’s still active, still working after all this time. even weirder, but dick started adopting the tradition of adding his dead brother’s phone number to each and every family group chat any of them created after ethiopia. again, jason doesn’t know why. maybe it was dick’s way of carrying his memory with them; including him in family conversations even if they all thought the number was connected to a long buried phone in the pocket of a long dead boy.
the point is that jason wasn’t dead any more. and all throughout his time at the league, he gets to watch the family chats. the mission statuses, the arguments, the rapid spiral every chat went through where they started off using it as a serious bat communication centre only for dick or tim to send a meme and instantly spiral into nothing but chaos that bruce would neither take part in or attempt to stop. jason spectates it all, always fingering the keypad but never actually typing out a message. he came close when there was a heated debate between steph and dick about the best donut types and he knew they were both absolutely fucking wrong, but luckily tim came in to educate them on the right choice last second and jason was saved from having to reveal himself.
the closest call was when little damian got a hold of his phone, attracted to the bright colours of the block game jason had been absently playing out of boredom while ra’s droned on about whatever had pissed him off that day. he’d let the kid play, sat on his lap and eagerly jabbing at the screen, and jason had only looked away for at most a minute before he’d turned back to find the screen open on the family chat, damian having accidentally clicked on the camera button and taken a selfie of the two that he’d been about to send through. luckily, jason deleted it in time, but he became much more careful about letting the kid play with his shit after that.
this is all just a long winded explanation and backstory for and au i think would be funny where jason’s reveal is literally just him deciding to fuck with his family by randomly dropping in through text like:
-in the chat-
bruce: status report.
dick: hungry :( but good!
steph: seconded, im fine
tim: drug bust went to plan, on way back to cave uninjured
cass: ^ same answer
babs: everything seems calm from what i can tell
jason: a little claustrophobic but the coffin’s kinda homely so ig no complaints from me
.
.
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several people are typing…
Headcannon that Alfred has a secret Instagram account. He just posts about the insane household accidents at Wayne Manor with literally no context.
His most popular post is simply captioned "Master Tim set the kitchen on fire attempting to make toast. Again."
Somehow, the account has over 500,000 followers of people growing increasingly invested.
His other popular posts include:
Muddy footprints acrross a gorgeous ceiling: “I have many questions about how Master Jason's boot prints came to be on the ceiling of the east wing corridor. He refuses to explain beyond claiming it was 'definitely Tim's fault' and that 'gravity was being unreasonable today.' Master Bruce has requested I not ask further questions.”
A photo of numerous coffee mugs hidden in bizarre locations: "The ongoing archaeological expedition to retrieve Master Tim's forgotten coffee cups continues. Today's discoveries included one inside a houseplant, two behind the grandfather clock, and one inexplicably on the chandelier."
A broken window with an arrow through it: "Master Damian's archery practice has once again violated our agreement about 'appropriate indoor activities.' Master Bruce has been informed."
A ceiling covered in colorful splatters: "Master Dick insisted his acrobatic skills would allow him to carry an entire birthday cake while performing a triple somersault. The ceiling disagrees."
An image of a completely disassembled grandfather clock with parts meticulously arranged on the floor: "Master Barbara asked for the time. Master Timothy decided the clock was 'running 0.002 seconds slow' and required immediate intervention. Dinner will be delayed until the main entrance is passable again."
The east wing covered in rubber ducks: “Master Dick claimed it was 'for science.' When pressed further, admitted it was retaliation for Master Jason's previous week's glitter bomb incident. Have scheduled additional therapy sessions for all parties involved.”
Alfred never mentions Batman or vigilante activities, but the posts are so outlandish people straight up have conspiracy theories about them.
Follower: "Time travelers. It's the only explanation for how they survive. They redo the timeline when things go wrong."
@ ManorMishaps: "If time travel were involved, I would hope they'd prevent incidents rather than merely surviving them. The toaster budget alone would benefit from such intervention."
Follower: "Alien research facility. The purple slime? The color-changing ceiling? ALIENS."
@ ManorMishaps: "I believe you've been watching too many science fiction programs. Though I must admit the ceiling phenomenon continues to baffle our contractor."
Follower: "These are clearly stunt performers for action movies. No normal family could cause this much property damage."
@ ManorMishaps: "An interesting theory. However, I've yet to see any of our incidents recreated in Hollywood. They lack the imagination."
Follower: "Wait, is that a BATARANG in the background of the third pic???"
@ ManorMishaps: "I believe you're seeing the shadow of an unusually shaped serving spoon. Nothing to see here."
Danny, while experimenting with his shapeshifting (ecto changes form depending on intent and he's half alive so), got stuck in a form. Then he got caught by a sleezy freakshow/circus owner.
The form he's stuck in is a merman form. But it's not, like, a typical merman form.
He'd been trying to see if he could reshape his ecto while he was in human form, and he had! But he'd also gotten overenthusiastic in experimenting, added too many features unique to his ghost form, and now he can't shift into either form.
Human or ghost.
He's stuck.
He's stuck as a merman with his human features, his ghost-form eye color (it glows), his human form hair (tinted with glowing green-ish white), deep blue scales on his tail that fade into that seem glowing greenish white, and fully functional gills.
He also cannot use his ghost powers. He knows that they're there, but for some reason his current form will not allow their usage. Maybe...maybe he's using too much ghost energy to keep up the transformation?
Regardless, he got captured by some sleezeball and thrown into a traveling freakshow. Highly illegal, and he's slowly losing hope that he'll be able to escape, because he just. Can't. Shift. Back!
Then the sleezeball makes a stupid mistake; he puts the freakshow up in Metropolis.
Danny goes to sleep one day closer to a mental breakdown.
Danny wakes up to Superman floating in front of his tank, in the process of restraining Aquaman from quite literally murdering the sleezeball.
DPxDC Hit The Gas
[Written to 'Renegade (We Never Run)' from Arcane]
Technically speaking, Mr. Masters, Gotham's new aspiring crime lord, did provide them with a getaway car. It's just that, in Tim's honest, objective opinion, said car sucks major ass.
First of all, it's white, which is, well, not the best color for disappearing into the night. Then, it's old — not vintage old, thank fuck, but definitely made before 2005 — and long overdue for a makeover. Tim doesn't see a single part of it that doesn't have a scratch or a dent on it, and are those bullet holes on the passenger door?
Eh, whatever, this is a staged escape anyway. Tim doesn't need it to be successful, he only needs an alibi. Someone — their driver, in this case — to later tell Masters that Alvin Draper did everything he could to keep the package safe. So he can stay in the man's moderately good graces even after they get caught by Batman tonight.
Tim makes it to the car first, throws the back door open and slides inside in one motion, slamming it behind him. Jason, the drama queen, jumps in through the open window and into the front passenger seat.
"Hit the gas, they are on our heels!" He yells at the driver, struggling to turn himself over and put his ass in the seat. Serves him right, opening the door and getting in the normal way would have taken literally two seconds.
The car jolts into movement without a moment of hesitation — so at least the driver has a good reaction time — but Tim still hears a dull sound of a betarang hitting the rear end of it. Nice throw, Cass!
It's only then that he cares to actually look around and realize a few things. A few, arguably, very important things. Like the fact that their driver is a redhead girl who looks barely sixteen. Or that there are two kids, looking no older than ten, in the back seat beside him.
He blinks and stares. The kids — both boys, one of them white as milk with a dark mop of hair and the other one black, wearing glasses and a red beanie — pay no mind to either him, Jason in the front seat, or the speed the car is going at. In fact, they pay no attention to the outside world as a whole, hunched over an outdated PSP. They are playing it together, one of the kids in charge of action buttons and the other one controlling the D-pad, so Tim can understand the need to focus: it takes some impressive teamwork to sucessfully go through the game like that. And they are using some complicated combos while at it, wow.
Wait, no, this is such a wrong time to marvel at videogame skills! They are kids, in a car, in a getaway car, in the middle of a car chase with the fucking Batman!
They take a sharp turn, and Tim grabs onto the handle in order to not bump into the door.
"Oh, you didn't tell me we're racing with the Batmobile," the redhead girl says, but it sounds surprisingly nice and polite, like she's merely asking about the weather.
"Yeah, well, we didn't expect that kind of trouble either," Jason snaps back, scrunching his nose, but the girl just laughs softly.
"No, don't worry. It's no trouble," she assures almost gently, and then reaches one hand behind the seat without looking, tapping the black boy on the knee, "Tucker, sweetheart, switch with me?"
Hold on, what?..
"But Ja-a-azz," the white boy whines.
"We've just got to the boss fight," Tucker pouts, but the redhead just taps his knee more insistently.
"And I'm sure you'll get to it again after we make it out," she says, still perfectly polite and collected. Tim glances out the window. Either this girl has nerves of steel or there's something very wrong with both her and the kids; they are going at least 95 mph, and she keeps only one hand on the wheel like it's nothing.
"Ugh, fine," the kid rolls his eyes and nudges his friend in the shoulder, passing him the console, "Save it, I'll get the cord."
"What cord?" Tim asks because he thought this was a simple undercover mission, but now he gets a sneaking suspicion there's a lot more to it than it looked.
Tucker, with one hand under the driver's seat and searching for something blindly, turns to glare at him.
"The control-cord," he answers like the dumb one here is Tim, "How else do you think- A-ha!" His face lights up as he emerges victorious from under the seat, holding... Yeah, a cord, okay. Which he plugs into the PSP that the other boy hands him without prompting.
"Maybe fasten your seat belts, this is about to get interesting," Jazz offers, but doesn't do so herself. Neither of the kids do it either, and Jason just snorts dismissively.
"You're saying it wasn't 'interesting' before?" There's definitely some teasing in his voice. Tim looks down to the package in his lap, a metal box holding some unknown but evidently very important content.
He fastens his seat belt just in time. The car jerks and speeds up — they are definitely past 110 now. And Jazz is not holding the wheel.
It only takes a moment for Tim to connect the dots and look to the PSP in Tucker's hands. Sure enough, instead of a game, his screen is now a perfect replica of the car's windshield in real time, and his fingers are firmly placed on controls. Like he's done it hundreds of times.
They are racing the Batmobile, and a ten-year-old is driving. This mission is fucking wild.
"Brakes, brakes, BRAKES!" Jason yells from the front, and Tim only gets a moment to notice the quickly approaching back of a truck in front of them and realize they are going to crash before their car just goes through it with no resistance. He even looks in the back window to make sure he didn't hallucinate the truck, but no, it's still there and still real.
Did they... Phase through it?..
"What the fuck," he mutters under his breath.
"Language, there are kids in the car," Jazz chides him with a huff of laughter, and then there's a click.
"What the f- fudge," Jason repeats the question, albeit much louder and way more alarmed than Tim before.
When he turns back around, the redhead is holding a grenade launcher. It doesn't look like a model Tim is familiar with, but it's for some reason painted white, just like their car. Is that some kind of Masters' thing?
Wait, that's a grenade launcher.
Jazz ties her hair in the back in less than two seconds and then reaches up to the roof of the car, pressing a button to open the sunroof.
"Wait, you can't shoot a vigilante, they'll-" Tim yells over the wind, but Jazz just smiles at him and stands up on the driver's seat, peeking out and taking position. Tim throws a panicked look at Jason — they sure didn't plan for anything like this. The car chase was supposed to be over in less than a few minutes, none of them thought that Masters, a fairly new figure in the Gotham underground, would have a kind of vehicle that can phase through things and drive at- at 150 mph through the city roads! Not to mention some strange fucking kids and a teenage with grenades!
"She won't kill anyone," a voice comes from Tim's side, and when he turns his head, he finds the other kid, the one he doesn't know the name of, looking at him, his eyes calm and unblinking. And slightly glowing, okay, and here he was, thinking this clusterfuck of a ride can't get any weirder.
"How do you know?" Tim snaps because there's only so much he can deal with at once in the span of five minutes. The kid shrugs.
"It's Jazz. She has morals," he says, like the word disgusts him, and Tucker huffs a laugh.
"You have them, too. Vlad and Dan killed people before, though," he argues, his eyes still glued to the screen of the PSP.
"Not in Gotham," his friend adds, seemingly just for the sake of having the last word in the argument.
Whatever Tim wants to say back gets cut off by a sound of a gunshot. He turns to the back window again, his heart stuck in his throat, but it looks like the white kid was right: the roaring Batmobile is still on their heels. Whatever the redhead tried to do, she missed.
"Danny, on three!" Jazz yells from above, and the kid springs to action like he's been waiting for this moment his whole life.
"One!"
Tucker moves out of the way as Danny climbs over him and towards Tim, unceremoniously shoves the precious metal box away and all but falls into Tim's lap despite his loud yet wordless sounds of protest.
"Two!"
The boy yanks the latch and throws the door open, leaning down while still sprawled over Tim's knees, and Tim grabs the back of his shirt out of reflex. It doesn't matter that the whole thing is a disaster, he's not letting a ten-year-old fall out of the car on his watch.
"Three!"
There's a loud pop somewhere behind them, and the car suddenly turns and drifts sideways, the sound of skidding tires grating on Tim's ears. Yet, he still feels Danny move and sees him reach and touch the ground. There's a short moment of panic — at this kind of speed, the pavement will shave the skin off the boy's hands in seconds — but then there's a shimmer of white bursting from Danny's palms.
When Tim looks up, the road behind them is covered in ice, the smooth surface of it shining in the yellow light of streetlamps. And, a bit further, there's a thick layer of smoke that should definitely hide them from the view of pursuers.
Smoke grenades. And ice powers. That explains the glowing eyes, Danny must be a meta.
The car shifts again, changing directions, and Tim, almost like in slow-mo, sees the metal box that they've gone to such great lengths to steal, slide towards the open door and tip over the edge.
He is still holding Danny's shirt, and the boy is still hanging halfway out of the car.
The seat belt is pressing tightly into his chest.
The box falls out, and Tim shuts his eyes close. Fuck it, he can fail the mission, it's not the end of the world, Jason can still try and weasel his way into Masters' close circle, and Bruce would understand if Tim explains why quickly enough, it's okay, no big deal-
"Gotcha!" Danny yells cheerfully as the car makes a sharp turn and comes to a halt all of a sudden.
Tim opens his eyes.
Danny, a wide, wicked grin on his face, is holding the box in his hands.
"You're a little shit," Tim breathes out, and the boy laughs, wiggling on Tim's lap and trying to get back inside the car.
"Born and raised," he answers with such a shit-eating expression on his face that Tim doesn't even bother holding back his urge for petty revenge. He releases his death grip on the back of Danny's shirt and gleefully watches the brat lose his balance and faceplant the ground.
The 'quick' undercover mission is sure getting an extension, but somehow, he can't bring himself to feel bad about the fact.
Most efficient ER in Gotham
Had the idea of ER nurse Danny and ER doc Damian working in the same ER.
Like their the same age but Danny was working there first (bc it takes less time to become a nurse than a Dr) and everyone in the ER loves him. He is the most component nurse they’ve ever had and is always cool, calm and collected even in the most stressful of times. Drs know that if shit hits the fan they can pass any patient that’s not dying right this second over to Danny and he’ll get them sorted all by himself, cracking jokes the whole time to keep everyone else from freaking out.
Then Damian starts working there and he’s basically a no nonsense Danny. Nothing fazes the guy. On his second day there he handled a gun shoot wound, spinal injury, rib fracture and stabbing all within an hour of starting his shift, all on different patients. He gets in, gets shit done and moves on as if he was dealing with a minor problem not 3rd degree burns.
Now these two, despite working at the same hospital, have never met. Bc Danny works the night shift and Damian works the day and every person that works there is so fucking glad that’s the case bc non of them expect them to get alone. Like Danny’s all wise cracks and jokes and Damian is all ‘stop wasting time’ so even tho they’re both efficient as fuck, no one expects them to tolerate each other.
Then on the first Halloween Damian works there, every member of staff is on shift bc it’s fucking Gotham and all the staff r just bracing for the inevitable fall out of two unstoppable objects colliding. Only it never happens bc these two get alone like a house on fire. Like yeah normally Damian gets up people goofing off but that’s bc their not doing work and just wasting time, he sees nothing wrong with Danny’s jokes bc he’s getting work done while he jokes. It’s like working with Dick, he honestly finds it a bit reassuring bc if Danny is cracking jokes it can’t be that bad. Danny on the other hand is just so glad to have someone else that can keep pace with him. Normally by this time of night he’s juggling 8 to 18 patients on his own with only minimal help from the on shift doctors but now Damian is right there with him and the two r basically tag teaming the hoard of mass casualties that just came in.
Needless to say that night Gotham general was the most efficient hospital on the planet and every doctor and nurse on staff have the horrible realisation that while they had mentally prepared for these two fighting, they hadn’t prepared for the fucking hurricane these two form when they get alone. 
