#Dick GAVE Tim the costume for Christmas | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tourettesdog · 1 year ago

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AO3

There was something more to the shadows of Gotham. They stretch a little too far, run a little too dark. At times the shadows seem to sway, beckoning. Dick once found it comforting.

He could still remember being small, unused to Gotham’s towering skyscrapers and the deep shadows that run between them. He was so angry then, and few things calmed that rage like gliding between the shafts of light through the windows. Purpose blunted his anger, gave him direction. The city became a home, each dark alley a familiar note in a beloved song.

It didn’t last. Not much ever did— except for the gnawing anger burrowing under his skin. A constant ache. Consuming.

He climbs the side of a tall office building and alights onto its roof, boots toeing over the edge. Staring out over the skyline, a swoop of nostalgia works through his gut. He swallows it down, grasping at annoyance. Dick hates being back in the city, under Bruce’s thumb. Hates returning to the home he left behind. Every street corner a memory, each just as bittersweet sour as the grief curling under each brick.

The city hums with life, more than he’s felt in a long time. Blood pumping through choked arteries, a buzz of activity in each street. It’s Halloween night, the first he’s seen since leaving for Bludhaven. Dick forgot just how bright the city could be with a hundred thousand decorations dotting the streets.

It does little to banish the shadows.

“Anything to report?” B’s voice crackles in his ear, tense. He’s been struggling to get by and it shows in the rough timbre of his voice.

Tim’s been helping him. The kid really has, but…

Nightwing lets out a breath as he presses his finger to his comm. “Nothing,” he grouches.

The night’s been surprisingly quiet, about as quiet as it can be at the height of trick-or-treating. He knows it has to do with last week’s attack. Gotham always springs back quick from each clawing attack, but there’s an unsteady ripple that follows a Joker attack. A shakiness. He can’t blame anyone, not when a hospital’s been reduced to gravel. There’s too many kids missing this Halloween.

That raw ache in Dick’s chest curls, squeezing at his ribs. His throat is too tight, hardly able to choke out more than an affirmative grunt when Bruce tells him to be careful.

The silence rings in his ears after, the hum of the city nothing more than static.

Dick’s moving again, feet skirting the rooftops. Every pounding step, each bounding leap, grounds him. He focuses on the rhythm, eyes cast below. He’s over one of the nicer streets circling Crime Alley, fall-brown trees lining each edge. He can pick out a few costumes from his vantage point. A few witches, a bedsheet ghost. A dog in a hotdog outfit. A dalmatian, or maybe just a cow with small spots. Their laughter echoes up to the rooftop, and despite himself he smiles. He wonders if Tim is having fun on the other side of town.

He knows Bruce is watching over him.

Halloween’s never been easy in Gotham— something about the holiday brings out the worst in a way Christmas can’t quite— but, watching the kids meander from house to house with little pails and pillowcases in hand, Dick can fool himself for a while.

It’s as if the mere thought jinxes it. He hears a shout, just a little ways off. It carries over the wind, coming from an alleyway a few houses down to his left. Dick’s running even before he pinpoints the sound.

The shout is different from the clamor of excited children. It’s raw, frightened. Familiar. Dick’s heard it a thousand times before, and he’ll hear it a thousand times more before he ever considers laying down his mask. Gotham might not be his city, but he’s never been one to back down from a fight and he’s not prepared to start now.

The alley’s dark, of course it is. Snug between two buildings, the one opposite rising much taller. Peering down, he can see two figures near a dumpster. One just as towering as the buildings they stand between. It’s a man, he’s pretty sure. Wide, brawny. Probably taller than Bruce, but not by much. The guy’s got a kid cornered, a hand raised.

Nightwing’s down on the asphalt in a heartbeat, his own a nervous flutter against his ribs. The man hears him before he can speak, spinning on his heel. There’s a knife in his hand, a glint in the dark.

“I’d take a step back if I were you,” he says coldly.

He can’t see much of the kid. Scrawny, small, hiding too easily behind the man’s bulk. There’s the hint of something yellow, likely a costume. A kid dragged away from trick-or-treating— Dick refuses to dwell on the why. There’s nothing worth pickpocketing on this side of town, certainly not from a kid.

The man lunges without warning, slashing the knife. Dick dodges it easily, stepping to the side. The blade sings through the air, sharp, but he’s sharper.

Dick takes satisfaction in the crunch he feels beneath his hands when his escrima lands. A broken nose is the least this man deserves.

He can feel the kid’s presence, wavering on the edges, but he only has eyes for the man and his knife. The blood dripping from his nose falls hot and heavy, a steady drip drip drip down his front. Still, the man swings blindly, eyes narrowed with tears in the corners. He’s missing a tooth and Dick has half a mind to knock the rest out.

“Bastard,” the man grunts. Another swing, the blade pinging off of the brickwork when he steps a touch too close.

“Says the bastard cornering kids on Halloween,” Dick hisses back.

Pivoting on his hip, he unsteadies the man with a kick to the ribs that knocks the air from his lungs. A downward slash of his escrima follows, driving the man’s skull into the asphalt’s grit. It’s almost too quick.

The man’s a pliant heap as Dick ties his hands behind his back. His head lolls, ugly with bruises, streaked with blood. Dick has enough decency to roll him onto his side— just in case. He can see the kid in his periphery the entire time, his costume a bright spot in the gloom. Yellows, reds, greens. It wouldn’t be the first Robin Dick’s seen tonight but—

Breath catches in his throat, its absence a chasm in his chest when he finally looks up. Dick doesn’t startle easily, but he’s pretty sure his heart stopped, if only for a moment.

He’s back up on the rooftops, soaring. There’s warm laughter in his ears. He’s ruffling soft black hair, smiling like he hasn’t since… since…

Jason.

Everything’s ground to a halt since Jason. A snuffed candle takes the light from a room and Jason's death was much the same, a bright spool of flame that burned, burned, burned until—

The shadows have been a bit deeper since then, Dick thinks. A halt to smiles, and laughter, and ease like he hasn't known since the big top. Grief runs deep in Gotham, and Dick's always felt it too intimately. Paralyzing, cloying, biting— teeth without a maw. It drags, pulling.

But the world’s spinning again, his breath caught in its hapless turn. It's spinning, but the bite of grief is a constant ache that turns with him, dogging his heels. It snaps at his ankles, urging him to take a step forward to the kid he's just saved.

He can hardly pick up his feet.

The kid is dressed as Robin— it's Halloween. These are facts, but right now Dick hardly trusts his own eyes, let alone the slow crawl of his mind. He blinks, as if it might help.

The kid remains, achingly so.

It's the quality of the costume, Dick thinks. There's a shine to most costume fabric that sticks out, but it's not present here. The kid's costume is well-sewn with no fraying edges. It's reinforced— padded?— in all the right spots. Even has some wear and tear scuff on the shoulders and gloves.

It could have come from the Cave.

It's not just the costume, Dick realizes. The kid wearing it is every bit a haunting echo. He's a scrap of a thing, small and boney in a way well-fed kids aren't. A mop of messy black hair frames his face, rumpled up at the back.

The mask's eyes are white where costumes normally hollow. Dick's imagination runs wild, fantasy warring with reason.

Jason's dead— Jason's been dead. It's a fact.

Against all reason, Dick can't quite shake the aching sense that lifting the mask would drag his brother home.

“Um, thank you,” the boy says nervously. What little hope blossoming in Dick’s chest shrivels up, withers, dies. There’s no accent. None of Jason’s rasp. It’s not a surprise, but the tangled, dying roots squeezing his chest ache all the same.

Dick shakes himself. Shakes off hope, brittle and unsalvageable and dead. He focuses on the kid. The kid that’s not Jason, but that needs him all the same.

He’s here to help this time around.

“Hey,” he says, wobbly. The word’s a croak. “Are you okay, kid?”

He should have asked that first. The kid was just held at knifepoint, and while Dick’s pretty sure the blade never touched his skin, he knows there’s more to worry about.

He’s looking more closely now. Hates just how difficult it is to trace his eyes over the green gloves and short sleeves, looking for bruises. He’s seen the suit plenty of times since…

He still resents its memorial in the Cave. Whatever comfort it brings Bruce, Dick finds nothing there.

“I’m fine,” the boy says. It’s clipped, guarded. A boot toes the asphalt, the kid’s chin ducked, shoulders hunched. He shrinks in on himself, miniscule. Nightwing’s own shadow towers, too alike the man’s.

“Okay,” he says. Unsure, but playing along. “Were you out trick-or-treating?” he asks. The answer might seem obvious with the costume, but Dick can’t help but notice the kid has nothing to carry candy.

Even with the mask, it’s obvious when the kid’s head tips down to look at his hands, flexing empty fingers “Uhh. Yeah,” he says, unconvincing. “I just got separated from a friend.”

There’s something off and it’s not just the grim reflection the boy cuts. He expects anyone to be shaken after an assault, but his focus hasn’t so much as shifted to the man lying prone on the ground. Every movement Dick makes, every word, has the kid’s focus snapped onto him with the tension of a frayed wire about to snap.

Wariness feels like the right word for it. The wariness of a rabbit staring down the hound that chased the fox. Legs already tensed for another chase. Not knowing if the teeth are blunt— anticipating that they’re sharper.

It isn’t the first time a kid’s been afraid of a vigilante. Won’t be the last. It worms into his belly all the same, hollow with his own brand of worry.

“Do you remember where you last saw your friend?” Dick asks. The kid’s leaning away as he says it, taking a step towards the mouth of the alley.

“I’m fine,” the boy repeats. “I can find them by myself.” There’s tension in every muscle, a readiness to flee. The rabbit a hair’s breadth from bolting, and Nightwing the unwitting dog lolling after.

“It’s dangerous,” Dick says. He takes just one step.

It’s all it takes.

The kid’s out of the alley in a blink, yellow cape fluttering behind him. There’s a sick swoop in his belly singing Jason’s name after it. The trick-or-treaters he passes melt away, civilians and shadows paling.

Jason, Jason— not Jason. A boy with too much of a midwestern lilt, and far too much air in his lungs to ever be the brother his father buried. Too much life in his every pounding footstep, peeling down the street, darting through the crowds.

Worry and curiosity war in Dick’s chest. His thoughts are clamorous, grating things and it’s all he can do to keep running, tracking the boy’s progress.

He nearly misses the sharp turn. A sliver of yellow is all he gets, the only hint of the boy slipping down another alleyway.

It’s a dead end. A dead end with a very alive kid at its end, one hand nervously held on the brickwork. He turns towards Nightwing, brows furrowed, mouth set in a thin line. Hesitance. Frustration. Fear. Dick’s seen cornered animals with less trepidation in their eyes.

“Leave me alone,” the boy warns. It echoes, stones bouncing across a frozen lake.

Nightwing stands his ground, firm. “It’s dangerous to be running around Gotham all by yourself. I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

The boy’s lip curls, the mask pinching. “I can take care of myself,” he says.

The cold, pinging echo distorts, more static than voice. It rattles Dick’s skull, shakes his very foundation. His chest heaves, his heart a pounding thump thump thump desperate to escape the cage of his ribs.

An addled current runs through his mind, roaring whitewater joining the static in perilous song. Accent hidden, without that hint of something else, all Dick sees before him is—

“Jason?”

The word is off his lips, quiet and soft. A prayer. A wish— however improbable.

The boy freezes, static stuttering, falling, wavering. It’s a crackle of electricity, a hush of freshly fallen snow. The mask furrows at the brow, a frown tugging his lips.

“I’m sorry,” the boy says in a whispering hush.

He steps back just as Nightwing steps forward. The brick presses to his back, presses—

Through.

The air leaves his lungs. He has no words. His feet move automatically, and in a heartbeat his hands are pressed to the wall, fingers scrabbling against the brick.

The boy is gone gone gone but his voice lingers in Dick’s ears. It twists, warps, and all that remains is an echo underlaid beneath static.

Dick knows Jason rests in the cemetery. He’s seen the grave plenty of times now, cried enough over the headstone, but…

He doubts. Doubts his ears, his eyes, his heart and all of the grief bottoming it out. He’s… imagined Jason before, resting on the fringes of his consciousness. A dream, a nightmare, taunting. It never gets easier, never quite goes away. The shadows of Gotham are deep and dark, and there are days Dick wishes they would swallow him whole.

It’s with shaking hands that Nightwing steps away from the wall. Batman’s voice crackles in his ear and he winces at the static.

It takes everything to give an answer, however brief. However much he leaves out.

One hand on his comm, Dick stares into the bricks, the pockmark divots seeming to stare back. Unmoving and cold, just as any headstone. Dick’s never thought much of ghosts.

…Jason haunts him all the same.

DPxDC Prompt:

In a city as dark and dreary as Gotham, Halloween is always an interesting affair... More so when the haunts prove real.

#dpxdc #dpxdc prompts #prompt fills #dogfics #dogreblogs #wwt

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ketchup-monthly · 2 years ago

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Batfam members favorite/most used item from Bath and Body Works

with the help of @space-specs

Bruce- Car insert that the kids gave him. its in the Batmobile and its shaped like a dinosaur. the smell is apple :) (idk what kind of apple. it just smells like apple and Dick switches it out for a new one every few months. anyone who rides in the Batmobile that doesn’t know about the clip is so confused)

Dick- several one single wick candles in The Perfect Christmas scent that he uses year-round (fragrance notes: pine, cinnamon sugar,] toasted marshmallow)(the other batkids try to confiscate his candles when it isn’t the holiday season but somehow he always has more)

Babs- 3-wick candle in the Birchwood Forest scent that Steph got for her (fragrance notes: vanilla, white birch trees, bergamot)(it makes the clocktower smell so nice and that helps with the long hours of Oracle-ing. plus Cass says that the color of the jar matches the Oracle color)

Jason- Teakwood cologne that he wears in costume as well in his normal day (fragrance notes: mahogany, black teakwood, lavender)(when hes early on patrol, people are like "huh, the Red Hood smells weirdly good?" and he has to live with that)(no i totally didn’t make my fav batkid use the same cologne that i do shut up specs (totally lying) -ketchup)

Tim- Warm Vanilla Sugar wall air freshener that Steph got him that she moves and he has never been able to find and destroy (fragrance notes: vanilla, white orchid, sugar, jasmine, sandalwood)(we promise this was a Steph prank. neither of us can stand this smell -ketchup)

Cass- Black Tie 3-in-1 face, hair, and bodywash because she just doesn’t see the practicality of using several different soaps, Babs (she also has a veritable army of single wick candles in her closet) (fragrance notes: sage, dark tonka bean, sandalwood)(Steph later introduced her to a better conditioner later, when she was first learning to take care of herself, the 3-in-1 soap was the best option)( @godlytomatoes contributed to this, as well as the army of candles idea)

Steph- the notorious Blueberry Sugar Pancake scent in a shower gel (fragrance notes: blueberries, sugar, pancakes, caramel cream)(this scent is so strong jfc)(unrelated, but Steph’s shampoo smells like strawberries)

Duke- giant bottle of Orange Blossom hand sanitizer that he's had since 2011 (fragrance notes: idk it smells like orange and orange flowers?)(tbh we know this used to be a scent bc specs’s grandmother had it and yeah. sunshine scent for sunshine boy!)

Damian- White Tea and Sage foaming hand soap that he keeps in his personal bathroom for when he just needs to wash his hands during the day (fragrance notes: tea, lemon, herbs)(he has other soaps for after he uses the restroom or for when he washes his paintbrushes, but the foaming soap is for just washing his hands when he feels that they're dirty)(is this giving us the hc that Dami is a bit of a germaphobe? yes. and we wholeheartedly accept it)

Cullen- Rainbow Waves pocket hand sanitizer in the crab case. its attached to his lanyard (fragrance notes: sangria, melon, misty waters)(its gay and was a gift during pride month and it smells very good)

Harper- Dark Kiss body mist for date night *winky face* (fragrance notes: black raspberry, burgundy rose, bergamot incense, dark vanilla bean, plum musk)(it sounds like it smells so freaking good and its purple and shes purple. it fits)

Kate- Pure Wonder body scrub bc it makes her sparkly and is great before a night of patrol or date night (fragrance notes: rosé, star jasmine, white amber)(she prettyyyy and deserves a pretty and sparkly body scrub to clear her skin and stuff. smell nice and sparkly)(like a vampire)

Alfred- wall plug from Jason in the shape of an old fashioned lantern in his personal quarters with the scent Laundry Day (fragrance notes: fresh air, eucalyptus, lavender)(his rooms smell so clean without him needing to constantly clean them. the scent is also particularly relaxing, and is stress relieving!)

Terry McGinnis- he carries around Sunshine and Lemons hand sanitizer spray on patrol as Batman but also for Matt (fragrance notes: yuzu, grapefruit, sunrays)(what do sunrays smell like??? idk but Batman just whipping out citrus hand sanitizer spray to clean things is funny)

Matt McGinnis- Salted Butterscotch single wick candle to annoy Terry (fragrance notes: warm brown sugar, sweet cream, sea salt, melted butter)(it started as him being a little brother pain in the ass, but he does eventually grow to like the smell, even though it kinda makes him hungry)

Jarro- Vanilla Bean Noel lotion (“what else would an alien starfish possibly need???” -specs)(fragrance notes: vanilla bean, caramel, sugar cookies, whipped cream, snow-kissed musk)

Drake Winston- Ocean in a lotion because working at the garage is tough on his hands :( (fragrance notes: blue cypress, vetiver, coastal air)(this smells very fresh, but he only uses it after a day of work and/or patrol, when hes going to go to sleep so the texture doesn't bother him bc BaBW is notoriously oily, at least in my opinion -ketchup)

Carrie Kelley- Black Chamomile aromatherapy bubble bath (fragrance notes: chamomile, bergamot)(its calming, and after roaming Gotham with only a slingshot for protection, she really needs it, and bubble baths are so fun!)(if someone says that you're too old for bubble baths, they're dirty rotten liars and have no joy in their lives. bubble baths are for everyone! -ketchup)

Jim Gordon- Babs got him a wall plug with the Smoked Vanilla Whisky scent for Christmas two years ago, but somehow the scent hasn't gone away yet (its a night light shaped like the bat signal) (fragrance notes: dark oak, bourbon, smoked vanilla)(the night light plug is specific to Gotham and shines a little bat signal onto the ceiling)

Bette Kane- Orange Ginger lotion bc it smells good and moisturizing is important (fragrance notes: orange, ginger)(smells nice and is energizing, which is a great pick-me-up in the morning when she needs to get ready for school or work)

Luke Fox- Vintage hand soap bc smell good :) (fragrance notes: blue lavender, pepper, vintage woods)(idk ive never smelled this but i want to so bad bc they sound like they would smell so good together and BaBW usually hits when it comes to the men’s fragrances -ketchup)

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sparkypantaloons · 3 years ago

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Little Lights

Every year, Bruce's children perform a Christmas play for Grandpa Alfred. But Dick is eight now and he is over it... or so it seems.

Just shameless Christmas fluff

"This is so dumb." Dick grumbled under his breath. He scrunched up his nose, the fake beard and moustache were starting to itch.

"Well it's tradition Dickie, and it's for Grandpa Alfred." Bruce chastised gently. He gave the eight year old a pointed look.

"What's tradition?" Jason asked, putting his arms up as Bruce pulled an old pillow case over his head. Holes had been cut out at the corners for his arms, and one at the top for his head, creating a little white smock.

"It means doing something old and boring." Dick grumbled again.

"Dickie." Bruce said warningly. He popped a golden tinsel halo on top of Jason's head. Dick rolled his eyes.

At eight years old, Dick had apparently decided that he was far too cool for most things. Behaving in the last few months like he was already a teenager. Turns out that re-enacting the nativity with his siblings on Christmas eve was also included in the list of stuff he was suddenly too mature for. The family had never been particularly religious, but Alfred had always had a soft spot for a children's nativity play, saying they reminded him of home. Bruce had been hoping his eldest would be more amenable this year, helping to wrangle his younger siblings even if he wasn't thrilled to be playing Joseph. Especially as it was Cass' first Christmas with them. Instead Dick seemed to have lost interest all together.

"Can you help Jason practice his lines please?" Bruce asked Dick, ignoring the eight year old's continued grumbling.

"I know them!" Jason said brightly. "I've been practising with Grandpa Alfie."

Bruce gave Dick another look, then turned to Tim. "Why do I have a stick?" The four year old asked. He was wearing a little brown dressing gown Bruce had had as a child, was holding an old fashioned walking stick Alfred had found in the attic. It was almost twice as tall as him.

"It's a shepherd's crook." Bruce explained, using face paint to add a five o'clock shadow to the tiny boy's face. "It helps you look after your sheep!" He grinned at Damian, who sat gurgling happily on the floor, dressed in a fluffy sheep onesie.

Tim looked unconvinced.

"Right, who's seen your sister?" Bruce asked, getting to his feet. Cass appeared beside him in a flash, her small hand tugging on his sleeve. She smiled shyly up at him. The seven year old had a long, white sleep dress on, and over it was wearing a blue shirt of Bruce's, the belt from her dressing gown cinched at her middle. She had only been with them a few months, but already Bruce couldn't imagine life without her.

"Perfect timing, Cassie." He said, handing her the doll that was to be baby Jesus. She cradled it gently in her arms, as though Bruce had given her something very fragile. "Right, now everyone round Damian for a picture." He instructed, pulling his phone from his pocket.

The four older children gathered round the two year old. Tim smiling so wide it scrunched up his eyes, Jason pulling out a 'dab' for the photo, whilst Cass hugged Dick gleefully. The doll baby Jesus, flung to the floor. Dick, gave a weak smile.

Bruce snapped the photo, tried not to laugh at how ridiculous they all looked.

"Home improvised costumes are all that's acceptable Master Bruce." Alfred had said, that first year he had dressed Dick and Jason up in random old clothing and hastily tailored bedding. Bruce had foolishly suggested just buying costumes, but Alfred wouldn't have it. Insisting that primary schools up and down the UK had parents rummaging in old closets for improvised costumes.

The Manor's inaugural nativity, Jason had been the sheep. A plump little two year old, only a few months with Bruce. Five year old Dick, ever the performer, had been Angel Gabriel, Joseph, a shepherd and King Herod. Dancing round the library doing the different parts, whilst Jason sat on the floor, trying to fit his foot in his mouth.

Three years later, Bruce's family had grown by three more children. But as ridiculous a tradition as it was, he delighted in the sheer silliness of the occasion.

"Okay, everyone ready?" Bruce asked, scooping Damian off the floor. "Let's go."

Jason charged ahead, yelling, excited to show Alfred his first costume. This year Jason wouldn't just be Angel Gabriel, he'd also be a wise man. A very big responsibility.

Cass and Tim skipped after him, but Dick dragged his feet.

"Dickie." Bruce said gently, turning to the eight year old. "What's wrong? You normally love doing Grandpa Alfred's Christmas play."

Dick rolled his eyes. "It's stupid. We don't even go to church."

Bruce frowned, bounced Damian on his hip. "What's wrong?" He asked again.

Dick scowled and didn't reply.

"Look, let's talk afterwards, when the little kids have gone to bed." Bruce said, knowing that appealing to Dick's pride in being the oldest usually worked. "But please be good, for Grandpa and for me huh?"

Dick let out a huff. "Fiiine." He dragged out the word, as though Bruce had begged an outrageous favour. Then he poked Damian in the tummy for good measure.

The two year old giggled, reaching for his brother. Bruce passed him over, ruffled the older boy's hair. Followed them through to the library.

"A long time ago" Dick began, standing next to the library Christmas tree "In a place called Nazareth, there was a lady called Mary." He gestured to Cass who waved and grinned at Alfred and Bruce, who sat 'front row' on the main couch. Bruce gave her a smile and a wave back.

"And she was visited by the Angel Gabriel." Dick continued.

Jason slid on his socks across the wooden floor. "Hi Cass! God wants to give you a baby!" He said loudly. Bruce winced at the volume. Clearly Jason had taken Alfred's advice about projecting his words to heart.

Dick hissed something and then Jason said, louder still. "Hi Mary!! God says he will give you a baby for Christmas." The tinsel halo fell down over his eyes as he disappeared behind the Christmas tree.

Bruce could see Alfred trying not to laugh out the corner of his eye. Clearly Jason was also trying his hand at improvising.

"But Mary and her husband Joseph" Dick stepped next to Cass, put his arm around her shoulders. "Had to go to Bethlehem and be counted for King Herod's census."

"It was a long way to Bethlehem, so they had a donkey to help carry their luggage." Dick turned and gestured to Ace who Tim had just coaxed into the library. Cass held his lead and her and Dick dutifully walked back and forth in front of the fire place a couple of times. Bruce silently thanked whoever was listening that Ace had so much patience.

"And when they got there, they had to stay in a stable, because all the hotels were full!" Jason said loudly from behind the tree.

"Jason!" Dick snapped. "I'm the narrator!"

"Ta-da!" Cass said, whipping Baby Jesus out from inside Bruce's shirt.

"Err and so Jesus was born in a barn--a stable!" Dick added quickly. Before he, Cass and Ace hurried off behind the tree. A moment later, Dick was back, plonking Damian the sheep in the middle of the "stage". Tim wandered up behind him.

"I am a shepherd watching my sheep." The four year old announced, gesturing vaguely at Damian. "And the stick helps!"

Bruce bit back a laugh, smiling encouragingly at Tim.

"Hi shepherd!" Jason said loudly again.

"Hi angel!" Tim said just as loudly back.

Damian stared up at them from the floor. Let out a squeal.

"Quiet sheep!" Jason commanded. "I have good news! Cass had-- Mary had a baby! You should go and say hi!"

"Okay!" Tim and Jason high fived and skipped off behind the tree.

"And so," Dick, Cass and the doll baby Jesus reappeared, stood beside Damian the sheep. "In the stable, surrounded by animals" Dick pointed at Damian. "Jesus had his first visitors."

"Hi Jesus!!" Jason was back and louder than ever. His tinsel halo swapped for a paper Burger King crown. "I have bought you gifts of gold, franking pens and murder."

"Myrrh!!" Dick corrected loudly, but Jason just shrugged and pretended to kneel at the dolls feet.

"And I'm just saying hi!" Tim added, kneeling down next to Jason. Cass patted him on the head.

"And that is the story of the first Christmas." Dick finished, looking utterly relieved the play was over.

Bruce and Alfred cheered and clapped, laughing as Jason did multiple bows.

"Excellent my darling's." Alfred said warmly. "The best one yet! Now who's for hot chocolate?"

A chorus of excited squeals came in response, but Bruce didn't miss the slight slump in Dick's shoulders and the half hearted agreement to hot chocolate.

It took Bruce three attempts to get Jason, Tim and Cass to settle down to bed. The three of them way too hyped up on hot chocolate and the thought of presents to sleep. Eventually he relented and let the three of them all pile into Tim's bed, leaving the drapes open so they could watch for Santa.

He found Dick sat with Ace by the Christmas tree, holding up presents for the dog to sniff.

"I hope you're not peaking." Bruce teased, taking a seat on the couch.

"No." Dick said quietly, shaking his head.

Bruce frowned. "Dickie, chum, what's wrong?"

Dick shrugged, scratched Ace behind the ears. "Nothing." He mumbled.

"Dickie." Bruce said again. "Talk to me, what's up? Let's fix it together."

Dick shrugged, didn't look at Bruce. Ace pushed his head against Dick's face, tried to lick his cheeks.

"Oh Dickie, no." Bruce said, realising his eldest had started to cry. He shuffled over to where Dick sat on the floor, pulled him into a hug. "What is it?" He asked, gently wiping the tears from Dick's face. "What's wrong?"

Dick sniffled. Wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. "It's dumb." He mumbled.

"It's not dumb," Bruce said gently. "Tell me."

Dick let out a little huff and then a heavy sigh. "How come there are so many of us now?" He asked in a small voice.

Bruce felt a small knot of dread pull tight in his stomach. "What do you mean?" He asked, carefully.

"You used to say I was the best thing that ever." Dick said quietly. He didn't look at Bruce. "And Alfred used to say mine and Jason's plays were the best." He paused, getting teary again. "But now you have Tim and Damian and *Cass* as well and Alfred thought this play was better and do you guys just not like me anymore?" He finished suddenly, looking up at Bruce desperately. "You keep saying everything is so much better now, what was so wrong with me?"

Bruce was sure he felt a crack go right through his heart. "Ohh Dickie, chum, nothing is wrong with you. You are perfect." And he pulled the small boy tight to his chest.

Dick was crying again, clinging to Bruce as he cried. "But then why, why--" he hiccoughed, his little sobs drowning out his words.

"Dick, just because I love your brother's and sister doesn't mean I love you any less." Bruce said firmly, but kindly.

"Really?" Dick asked in a small voice.

"Of course!" Bruce squeezed him again. "And you love them too right?"

"Yeah I do." Dick said sadly, and Bruce wondered if his little boy was upset all the more because he thought he was being replaced by kids he couldn't even resent for it.

"Listen to me Dick." Bruce said, and he pulled Dick away from him so he could look him in the eye. "You are still the best thing ever. You always will be." He paused, trying to think of how to explain things. "You know how at Hannukah we light the Hannukiah?"

Dick nodded.

"That first light, we light, that's you for me. You were my first light in the darkness. And because of you, I can light all the other candles, which are your brothers and sister. All of you bring so much hope and joy into this house. But without you, there never would have been any of that."

Dick chewed his lip, but he looked unconvinced.

"Just think of tonight, none of them could have done the play for Grandpa Alfred without you. The whole thing would have been a disaster. It was the best one yet because of you."

"So... so you guys still like me?" He asked quietly.

"Like you!?" Bruce said suddenly, shaking Dick very slightly by the shoulders. "Dick Grayson-Wayne." Bruce jumped to his feet, scooped Dick up into his arms. "We don't just like you. We love you!" And he bounced Dick up and down as he headed for the kitchen. "Isn't that right Grandpa Alfred?" Bruce called, as Dick began to giggle.

Alfred looked up from where he was prepping the next day's turkey. "What's that Master Bruce?"

"We don't just like Dick, do we?" Bruce asked, plonking the eight year old on the counter.

"Like?" Alfred asked, eyebrows raised. "No, no, no. Like is not nearly an important enough word for you dear boy." He squeezed Dick's knee. "Not even close."

Dick ducked his head but grinned despite himself. Bruce ruffled his hair, placed a gentle kiss atop his head.

"Do you promise?" Dick asked quietly, so only Bruce could hear.

Bruce rested his forehead against Dick's, held a gentle hand against the back of his neck. "I promise."

That night Bruce let Dick sleep in his bed. His eldest, his first child, curled up beside him. His small fingers clutched around Bruce's pyjamas. He pressed a kiss to the small boy's forehead, fell asleep to the sound of his soft snores. A smile on both of their faces.

#batfam fic #batfic #bruce wayne #spbfic #bat family #batman family #batsiblings #AU - no capes #bat sibs are kids #Damian is baby #Bruce Wayne is a good parent #come at me #little lights

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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years ago

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i love thinking about how wally’s definition of a hero changed and evolved over time.

every kid thinks their parents are heroes, at least at first. for a couple, that hero-worship lasts well into adulthood. for others, it fizzles away in mutual laughs when they sit behind a wheel for the first time and shush their parents’ backseat driving, or when they take successfully take control of the kitchen for a night. and for some, it slips away much earlier. because rudy talked loudly at dinner about the trust his boss was placing in him at work, smiling smugly at wally as though telling him to take notes. but wally noticed him yelling at his mother when coming home from work, his steps stumbling, his posture menacing over the smaller but no less angry form. and wally had to bite back protests when rudy sneered about aunt iris, spitting the fact that she was adopted in her face, nevermind that she seemed to care for the west family more than anyone else in it. (saying this aloud would only end with a backhand to the face or a belt to the back, though, so wally kept quiet.) and, anyway, when wally grew up and helped the green lanterns slam the doors of a prison cell shut on his fathers face, wearing a manhunter uniform and looking for all the world like the traitor to humanity he was, wally was grateful his hero worship had drizzled down the drain early.

aunt iris was brilliant, aunt iris was kind, aunt iris was beautiful, but aunt iris was human. she stuck bandaids over wally’s scraped knees with gentle fingers and danced in the kitchen of a little apartment while she made wally’s favourite version of mac and cheese. she was real and present and there, but she wasn’t really a hero. because the world seemed to have a new definition of “hero”. there was a man with a cape and a symbol of hope flying unattainably high over metropolis, there were arrows sticking out of steel walls in star city, there were hushed whispers of a leather-clad demon and a beam of brutal light fluttering around him in gotham. but central city? wally’s home? had someone who could run faster than the speed of sound with lightning crackling in his wake, had someone who exuded sheer power, had someone who laughed in two-second television appearances, had someone who made jokes with kids he was saving to calm them down, had someone who cared about the city so goddamn much. he was everything wally had ever seen in a hero, and when aunt iris and her new boyfriend barry (wally kind of liked the guy so far) took him to the flash museum, wally stood in the center of it. he made a slow turn, taking in everything he could see and hear and feel. “s” could mean hope and a bat could mean vengeance, but that red and yellow bolt of lightning meant power to wally, benevolent and uplifting power that made the lives of everyone it touched brighter.

it took a christmas when wally was in 5th grade for him to realize that the flash was a hero of the people. central city loved him, and the flash loved them right back. but when wally was zapped with lighting, feeling unimaginable pain coursing through every single nerve in his body, barely even registering the chemicals that had gotten into his mouth, it was his uncle barry’s face looking down at him. it was uncle barry that never let go of his hand in the hospital, it was uncle barry that held him up every step of the way when his new powers (his new powers!) left him a stumbling, newborn foal. it was uncle barry that explained every single part of what happened to him, then at wally’s shy insistence, happily showed him around his lab. it was uncle barry that scoffed at his homework and wrote up some much more engaging problems for wally to do for fun. and it was uncle barry that presented him with his very own suit for christmas during that memorable 5th grade, and lifted him up easy as breathing when wally barreled into him for a hug. the flash was the hero of the people, but barry was wally’s hero.

of course, with his new name and new identity and new powers, he was exposed to a network of more super-people. superman was kind, if a bit bumbling. wonder woman’s biceps were bigger than wally’s entire head, but her laugh was as kind as aunt iris’ when wally told her that, and her grip was strong yet gentle when she scooped wally up and let him ride on her shoulders. uncle barry, no, the flash pouted theatrically when wally told him green lantern was funnier than him, but he cheered up when wally gave him a hug. batman was...well, first of all, real. wally honestly hadn’t believed he existed, and stepping cautiously into the batcave for the first time, wally couldn’t reconcile the near-invisible black mass moving silently around an outrageously high-tech cave with a human being. the reason for batman’s invitation became clear soon, though, because if the darkness was real, that meant the light had to be, too. robin was everything wally had ever imagined and more. he one-upped wally’s jokes with puns of his own and broke a man’s nose with a backflip and balanced on top of a telephone wire like he was walking on concrete and ordered curly fries exactly the way wally liked them. wally couldn’t do anything but marvel.

over the years, he realized a couple things about his best friend. first, dick grayson, from the very beginning, had cast aside the notion of being “batman’s sidekick.” robin wasn’t a continuation of batman. robin was different, in everything from costume to demeanor to fighting style. dick wasn’t following batman’s legacy, he was creating his own. second, no matter how many times dick’s world burned down, he would always rebuild it. nightwing was a fitting name, a sort of poetic justice to it that wally himself never would have considered had dick not pointed it out. when robin was taken away from him, and the two of them lay huddled together, seething and devastated on clark kent’s couch, he built himself up again as nightwing. when jason todd was murdered, the robin suit cast aside as if caught up in a curse, dick wept at his mistakes, then did everything possible to correct them, gently but insistently shaping tim drake into a damn near perfect vigilante, an artist turning soft clay into an unbreakable vase. when dick’s memory was ripped away from him, with time he clawed his way back; when his father was killed, he built up batman again and honoured him the only way he knew how; when the feeling of touch and sensation and love that he used to adore was brutalized into the opposite by a spider, he broke apart in the presence of the titans, placing his trust in their capable hands, then with their help, stood taller than he ever had before. the amount of strength that took was awe-inspiring to wally. finally, third, dick never lost his light. the warmth that draws everyone to him, the kindness that healed their wounds, the mischievousness that broke their chains of despair and buoyed them upward in laughter. he never once lost it. he didn’t let many people see his breakdowns or his temper, but no matter the witness, he chose light over succumbing to the damning, over and over and over again.

a hero is someone you idolize, someone you aspire to be. wally had been trying to embody what dick stood for almost the entire time he knew him. from the way dick hugged him, the way the titans supported him unconditionally, the way the justice league respected him, the way central city loved the flash fiercely, and he loved them right back, wally liked to think he’d been successful.

that post about central city having a flash museum was the inspo for this. it did,,,,,get away from me a little at the end, and i got swept up in birdflash feels, but oh well. you get what i mean.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bonkybearjpeg @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge

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kbirbpods · 2 years ago

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'tis the (damn) season

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Jason Todd, Kate Kane (DCU), Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson

Tags: Christmas Fluff, Christmas, christmas outfits, Batfamily (DCU), Jason Todd is a Batfamily Member, Kate Kane is Batwoman (DCU), Mentioned Cassandra Cain, classic christmas movies

Length: 878 words

Summary:

Kate brightens. “I’m doing a genderbent version of the Santa from Santa Claus is Coming to Town! It’s going to be great.” “What… the fuck,” Jason growls. “You gave yourself the most normal and attractive costume?’ She shrugs. “I’m Jewish, I’ve never celebrated Christmas, and I’m going to look hot as hell."

Or: Kate Kane ruins Jason's Christmas with one simple gift.

Notes: VERY loosely inspired by this Batfamily variant cover I just bought

#batfamily #batfam #batfam fan fic #kate kane #jason todd #bruce wayne #damien wayne #tim drake #dick grayson #kaje writes

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

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Stalker X Stalker, Part 7

First

Perma tag: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever

No I didn't get carried away with writing domestic fluff and forget to do the one thing I was supposed to with this chapter I'm a professional and would never do that

It took a long time for Tim and Cass to convince Marinette that, no, it wasn’t a trap, it was just a normal Halloween Party. It took even longer to explain what a Halloween Party really was, because apparently it wasn’t a huge deal in France.

But, eventually, she got it:

“Okay, so every Rogue and vigilante has to go to his Halloween Party in stupid costumes… or else?”

Tim nodded. “Rogues have to go because he’ll be insufferable, we have to go because otherwise we’re leaving a bunch of Rogues alone together without supervision.”

“And it really is just a Halloween Party?”

Cass flashed two thumbs up.

Marinette still looked a little confused. “And we… we want to babysit the Rogues?”

“They mostly behave themselves. Again, Crane can be insufferable when he wants to be and they have to spend a lot of time with him in Arkham.”

“I guess that’s cool then…” Then, a thought seemed to occur to her because she brightened up. “Is Nightwing coming?”

Tim nodded, suddenly a lot more wary. “Yeah, both he and Flamebird drop by for most holidays, anyway, so they might as well… why?”

She blushed a little. “I kind of wanted to see if I could get him to train me. I think his fighting style is pretty cool.”

Tim was not jealous or annoyed that Marinette might like two of his brothers more than him. He was fine if she liked Cass more, because Cass was, well, Cass. But Dick? Damian? Come on!

At least he had a month before the party to prepare himself.

For now, he glared at Cass, because she was laughing at him behind her hand.

Then he remembered that Marinette was still there and was watching the two of them interact with a vaguely confused expression and he pulled himself together: “I don’t know if he can teach you much since he’s usually in Bludhaven, but I used to be obsessed with the guy and I know all his moves by heart.”

She tipped her head to the side, considering, then smiled at him. “Sure. Thanks, Red, I owe you one.”

He tried to hide his relief behind a smile. She smiled and blushed, so he was pretty sure it worked.

Marinette smiled as she scrolled through the Batinternet on her phone (they’d finally given her the password! She no longer had to waste data!). The batkids were all working on the computer, trying to hack into their father’s files to see their Christmas presents.

She didn’t get why they were doing it then, it wasn’t even Halloween yet. Still, they insisted that Batman was always prepared well before the holidays hit. She was curious about what they’d find, if anything, so she waited as Red Robin hacked their dad’s files.

Loud cheers erupted from the others, which meant they must have found something.

“... right, Ladybug, yours is easiest to get into… he probably didn’t expect you to try… he’s getting you an Xbox and a bunch of games to go with it.”

Her gaze shot up and she surged to the front of the group to see. “Really?”

Red Robin pointed at the screen and she blinked a few times. Yep, that was a customized Xbox. Wild.

Then her shoulders slumped. “Damn, I was only kidding. If I knew he was actually going to get it I would’ve asked for a Playstation.”

She continued looking at all the ‘random’ games Batman had bought her (he was suspiciously good at guessing what she liked), completely oblivious to the fact that she had accidentally started World War III right behind herself at the casual mention of a thing she wanted.

She glanced back at them once during their fight and they straightened instantly, innocent smiles in place. The hand Red Robin had in Robin’s hair turned into a hair ruffle. Black Bat had turned the way she gripped the collar of Spoiler’s shirt into pulling her down for a hug. Signal’s eyes stopped glowing under his domino. She smiled a little and turned back to the screen to look at the rest of the games. Fighting resumed.

Or, at least, it did until Marinette saw the file name.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“I knew you fuckers took my blood,” she hissed irritably.

She wasn’t exactly scared, the bats seemed generally well-intentioned, just paranoid, but that didn’t mean she liked it. They stole her blood to figure out her identity without asking.

They all tensed up behind her and looked at each other awkwardly.

Robin was first to snap out of it. He swatted Red Robin over the back of the head. “Look what you’ve done, Drake.”

Marinette blinked and then pulled her gaze back to Red Robin. “Drake?”

The batkids looked at each other awkwardly. Except for Red Robin, who was glaring at his youngest brother.

Spoiler was the first one to come up with an excuse: “It’s an older codename. We told him to come up with something original since everything else he’s used has belonged to someone else first… and that’s what he came up with.”

She considered whether Drake really confirmed that Red Robin was Tim Drake-Wayne. On one hand, yeah… but, on the other hand, was he really that stupid? Would he really use his own last name for a codename?

She supposed that, in all her time knowing Tim and Red Robin, he had never shown himself to be original. Smart, sure, but a little unoriginal.

So, yeah, Tim was almost definitely Red Robin.

But she was prepared to ignore it for now. Every bat seemed tense at the idea of her learning their identities, so she played dumb:

“It’s not that bad of a codename. Dragons are pretty cool.”

She could feel Black Bat still staring at her, but everyone else relaxed almost imperceptibly.

“He didn’t base himself off of dragons, he chose male ducks,” Robin informed her.

She blinked. “Why the hell would he choose ducks?”

Signal snapped his fingers and started pulling out his phone. “Oh, Mari -- can I call you Mari? -- you should see his outfit.”

Red Robin realized he was about to get murdered for his younger self’s outfit choices and tried to snatch the phone away.

Unfortunately for him, while he was concentrating on Signal, Black Bat had sidled over to Marinette. She tugged her arm to pull her attention from the two fighting boys and then showed her the picture.

Marinette stared at the ugly cockroach outfit for a long time before taking a deep breath: “Alright, first of all...”

Tim… he was fine.

Okay, no, he wasn’t.

The tracker was better, he would admit. She had even started wearing more red and black so she could wear the necklace more (something that made him feel all fuzzy inside), but she wasn’t wearing it every day and he couldn’t exactly tell if the necklace was there because she was home or if it was there because she’d worn a different outfit.

So, he only had one solution: randomly dropping by to do chores with her.

It started off with the ‘might as well’ principle. They were already out for photography and getting ideas for outfits, why not pick up some groceries while they were on their way back? She could even carry more since there were two of them.

He quickly dropped pretenses, though. The one time every few days that they hung out wasn’t enough to keep her in the house, and even if it was she clearly wasn’t fond of staying inside for long periods of time. He started dropping by every day to just go out with her.

He could tell his family was getting a little suspicious about what he was doing, Steph and Cass both narrowed their eyes at him whenever they saw him leaving the office at a normal time and once he had caught Duke following him to see where he was going… but it was fine. They weren’t going to complain about him actually getting some sort of down time.

And, he had to admit, it was nice. Not only did resting his brain for an hour or two a day do wonders for his mental health, he just… enjoyed doing chores with her? He didn’t think he would. He’d expected to like it the first few times, the novelty of going on his first grocery shopping trip or figuring out how a laundromat was always going to make it interesting and new for a bit, but it didn’t seem to be wearing off.

He was pretty sure that was because of the person he was doing it with, though.

He smiled as he watched Marinette half-climb the supermarket shelves for a bag of Takis.

“Need help?” He called.

“Nope!”

He watched her jump a few times on the lowest shelf before, eventually, climbing up another shelf.

Tim winced and surged forward to support her weight a little.

She huffed and grabbed the Takis. He set her down.

She crossed her arms. “I said I could get it.”

“I trust you. The shelves? Not so much. Do you want to die crushed under a bunch of chips?”

Her halfhearted glare morphed into a grin. “If I die any other way you have to promise to resurrect me so I can do it again.”

He rolled his eyes. “How about I resurrect you and you try not to die again for a while?”

“Hm… I guess that’d be alright.”

Then, at the laundromat, Tim saw a bunch of Two Face’s henchmen. How did he know that they were henchmen? The black and white suits kind of gave them away.

He was just wondering whether it was worth it to try and call Duke over so they didn’t risk something happening when he realized that Marinette had slipped over to them.

But she wasn’t concerned as she offered some of her detergent. “Hey, if you need to wash lights and darks together like that… you’re going to need a different detergent. I know those are cheap but there’s a reason for that.”

“Isn’t that just an old detergent problem?”

“No, separating every single color into a different load is. But, if you want to do pure black and white like that… you don’t want to risk it.”

Then she turned and glared at another goon, who was pulling their luckily still okay clothes out of the washer.

“You’d better not be putting that in the dryer.”

The sheepish look on the henchman’s face was answer enough.

She huffed. “That is airdry only why would you do that --?!”

And that’s how they ended up friends with -- and possibly under the protection of? -- a bunch of henchmen. Tim had to admit, they were really nice when he and Marinette weren’t trying to get them thrown in jail. He almost found himself slipping and hoping that Frank managed to achieve his mob boss dreams. He actually did offer to babysit Sam’s kids while she had a shift because she seemed very stressed.

“Tim, darling, do you even know how to take care of kids?”

Tim didn’t know whether to blush because she had called him darling oh my god or due to embarrassment at that massive oversight.

“Uh… would you be willing to help?”

Marinette gave him an exhausted look. “I’ve only ever babysat one kid at a time without their older sibling being there to help.”

He quickly changed the offer to paying for a babysitter. Sam was thankful regardless.

When everyone had finished laundering their clothes to Marinette’s satisfaction, the two of them headed back towards her apartment.

Tim changed the position of the laundry basket on his hip so it didn’t dig into him as much. “You know, you didn’t have to help them.”

She snickered. “First of all, you’re absolutely wrong. I couldn’t just sit by and watch them ruin their clothes right in front of me!”

He rolled his eyes, trying to hide the fond smile on his face. “And second of all?”

“Secondly…” She let him into the house and closed the door behind him. A cheeky smile formed on her face. “Well, they’re henchmen. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to have them on our side in case things go wrong rather than indifferent to what happens to us?”

It was here, with her smiling in front of him, intelligence sparkling in her eyes and the necklace he gave her hanging from her neck, that he realized that he was going to fall in love. He might not be there yet but, if they continued doing things like this, he was sure he would.

He wouldn’t mind that, he thought, as she leaned forward to take the basket from him, pressing a kiss to his cheek on the way over. He watched her disappear to her room, no doubt to fix whatever damage he had done while carrying it that would be invisible to anyone but her. He shoved his hands in his pockets and went to start up the coffee machine.

There are no botanical gardens more beautiful than the ones in Gotham. Whether that was because Poison Ivy herself tended to them or because they were kept in tip-top shape to appease her, Marinette didn’t know. Whatever the reason, it was gorgeous and Marinette had gotten quite a few different ideas. She pretty much had an entire spring collection planned out…

It was unfortunate that she’d gotten ideas for a spring collection in the middle of autumn, but she was ignoring that.

Now, they were sitting on her couch. They needed to relax after all that walking around on top of a rather exhausting night the night before (Scarecrow had broken out of Arkham to start preparing for his Halloween Party). She was completely in his space in an attempt to mess with him. It, unfortunately, didn’t seem to annoy him as he lazily rested his head on top of hers.

She huffed a little but allowed it.

He fiddled with the settings on his camera, biting his lip.

She looked down at the camera and asked: “How’d you get into photography?”

“... it’s a kind of personal story,” he said carefully. “A little sad, too, I guess.”

She tried to pull back, an apology on her lips, but he just rested an arm around her shoulders and held her close.

“It’s fine.”

She nodded as much as she could with the head resting on top of hers.

They were silent for a long time. She tried to relax herself. There were no akumas in Gotham, it was okay to accidentally upset someone and it was okay to ask them if they wanted to elaborate. They were people, people are supposed to feel sad sometimes. It’s healthy.

She took a deep breath before curling more into his side. “Would you like to talk about it?”

The arm around her tightened almost imperceptibly. “I… I guess I can, sure.”

“You don’t have to,” she said quickly. In fact, she might be a little more comfortable with that. Emotional conversations weren’t a Parisian’s forte.

But he sighed and shook his head. “It’s fine. Our relationship can’t progress all that healthily if we never tell each other anything.”

Yikes. Way to accidentally call her out on the fact that she hadn’t formed a healthy relationship in years, Tim.

“Not that I’m all that great at healthy relationships,” he said after a minute.

At least she wasn’t alone, she supposed.

“No easy way to say this, I guess… my parents weren’t the best. They’d go on trips -- they were archaeologists -- and I’d be left home alone, usually for months at a time.”

She cringed internally and took his hand in hers, rubbing comforting circles into his palm.

He sighed lightly. “So… I was lonely, obviously. I started by taking pictures of my parents. Sometimes it was all I’d have of them for months. They could leave, but the pictures weren’t able to.”

She felt him bury his face in her hair.

“I started following the bats after a while. I don’t know if it was because I wasn’t sated by pictures of just the two of them and decided to expand, if it was because they had a happy family despite a distant father and I wanted that for myself, or if it was because I wanted my parents to find out and be worried about me, or a mix of all of that… but…”

She slowly moved the camera off of his lap and pulled him into a hug. “But?”

He was silent for a bit, thinking over his answer. He shrugged and wrapped his arms around her. “It was an old coping mechanism. A way of feeling connected to people when I couldn’t actually be.”

“‘Was?’ What changed?”

He laid back on the couch and she allowed him to pull her down beside him. “People around me… started ‘leaving permanently’.”

She winced. Oh.

“It hurt a lot more to look at the pictures after that. It just felt like a reminder that I was alone.”

She frowned. “But… you’re taking pictures of me, now.” Her eyes widened. “Shit, did I accidentally trigger --.”

He shook his head quickly. “No, no. Well, kind of, but it’s okay! Every time they’ve died, it was because of some sort of shortcoming on my part. I think I’ve learned from all my mistakes. You… I won’t let you get hurt, okay?”

Marinette didn’t know how to respond. On one hand, she was pretty sure that she should be assuring him that, even if she did end up dying, that he shouldn’t blame himself… on the other hand, she had no intentions of dying and she was pretty sure it was nearly impossible for her, so maybe it was a good thing that he had chosen to protect her of all people? Maybe the problem would solve itself?

She didn’t know.

She carefully took his face in her hands, pulling him to look her in the eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay, darling?”

He gave her a tentative smile. “I sure hope you’re right.”

He had been asked to stay the night. Her excuse was that she was almost done with an outfit for him and she wanted to give it to him the second it was done and, by the time it would be, it would be too dark to go out safely.

Tim kind of felt bad that he had worried her but he wasn’t going to turn down the offer of staying over and watching her finish the outfit.

But, first, food. They dropped a million takeout menus on the desk. A long silence stretched between them as they looked at all the options.

“... what do you want?” Asked Marinette.

“I’m not in the mood for anything in particular, you?”

She sighed. “I don’t know, do you want anything?”

“I don’t want anything, what about you --?”

This continued on for about three minutes before Tim got a brilliant idea. He dialled Damian’s number and put it on speaker.

“Drake. Why are you calling? Have you been hurt?”

“No, Dami, I’m getting takeout and I was just wondering if you had any ideas.”

Marinette gave him an affronted look, but he clapped his hand over her mouth before she could warn Damian that, no, he wasn’t buying food for him he was just going to be an asshole.

“... I suppose I wouldn’t be averse to Chinese.”

“Thanks, Dami! Hope you can get Alfie to make that for you.”

“What do -- ?”

Tim hung up on his very confused younger brother.

Marinette frowned as he removed his hand from her mouth. “That wasn’t nice of you, that’s a kid.”

Tim was not about to get beaten by his brother in both identities, thank you very much.

“Alfred can cook better than anyone in the world, he’s not going to suffer.”

She snorted. “I doubt he can make food better than…” She picked through the takeout papers for a few moments before holding up a menu. “... this place!”

He squinted at the menu. “... I really hope you can speak Mandarin.”

“You’d be hard pressed to find a language I can’t speak, Timmy,” she said, absently dialling the number.

Well, he supposed that explained how a person from France knew ASL and could speak English like a native. Damn. Now he kinda wanted magical god-earrings so he could speak every language in existence.

She spoke cheerfully to the person on the other side of the line for a moment before turning to Tim. “What do you want?”

“Uh… shrimp fried rice?”

She rolled her eyes and flicked his nose. “Alright, fine, white boy.”

“It’s a safe option okay --!”

She wasn’t listening to him explain why fried rice was the best choice for him because she was relaying the order to the person on the other side of the line. She hung up with a smile.

“Food will be here in about three minutes. Do you rich people have small bills or do you just use them for tissues or something?”

He raised his eyebrows. “They go down to a hundred, right?”

She pressed her lips together thinly, clearly unsure whether or not he was joking.

He snickered and shook his head. “Nah, I think I have twenties and fifties…”

“Yeah, that won’t do. We’re going to get robbed,” she said, reaching into her purse.

“We? Didn’t know I lived here, too,” he joked.

She barely even glanced up from where she was counting money. “Honestly, with how often you’re here, you might as well move in.”

He choked. He wanted to say something smart or funny or smooth, instead all that came out was: “You --? I --? Uh --!”

She snickered behind her hand. “Love, relax, I’m just kidding. You don’t have to leave your fancy mansion with all your siblings --.”

“Wait, don’t make living here sound even better. I will do it purely to get away from them, don’t test me.”

She rolled her eyes with a grin. “Maybe that's the plan, you’ll never know.”

Tim had exactly zero idea whether they were joking or not anymore. The tone and reactions made him pretty sure they were kidding, but… what if they weren’t?

He was just gathering the courage to ask when the doorbell rang, pulling their attention to the food. She continued counting for a second before running to the door and swinging it open.

He walked up beside her awkwardly as she chatted politely to the guy to take the food inside. He knew, logically, that Marinette was actually way stronger than he was… but his stupid brain saw a thin, short woman in need of someone to help her carry things. So, he took it from the guy with a smile.

The delivery guy glanced Tim up and down before asking Marinette something. She laughed and gave a shrug. Tim did not know what was going on but he felt vaguely insulted.

He was definitely learning Mandarin after this.

The moment the door closed he whined about being insulted. She looked amused.

“You know what he said?”

“... no,” he admitted.

Her lips twitched.

“... you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

She snickered and leaned over the two bags of food in his hands. “So, you got the fried rice, right?”

“Mariiiiiiii.”

“Your food is going to get cold.”

“Beeeaaaan,” he complained.

She raised an eyebrow at him, a blush spreading across her face. “Bean?”

He grinned, feeling heat creep to his own cheeks. “I don’t know, I couldn’t think of anything for a nickname. First thing I thought of was coffee beans, so: Bean.”

“Wow, you’re such an addict,” she teased.

He continued pouting at her until she gave in.

She leaned forward to press a kiss to his nose. “He asked if you could use chopsticks or not so he could get you a fork if you couldn’t.”

He felt the blush on his face deepen. “Oh… I can’t.”

“That’s fine.” She grabbed a tote bag from the floor of her pantry and pulled out a set of plasticware.

He blinked. “... you keep plastic forks?”

She shrugged and tossed the bag back in her pantry. “Plastic forks, grocery bags, napkins, a few sets of chopsticks…”

“... why?”

“Some of us are minorities, darling.”

“What --?”

She hummed tunelessly as she worked.

Tim had fallen asleep on her shoulder. Had most of this been an elaborate plot to make him finally get some sleep? Possibly.

She didn’t feel all that bad, though. With how much he overworked himself both as Red Robin and as Tim Drake-Wayne… honestly, she was beginning to doubt that he slept at all. And, really, if a vigilante coffee addict with a magically enhanced physique is worried about your sleep schedule, you’ve got problems. Intervention was needed.

Don’t get her wrong, though, she was going to make up for lying to him. She’d move him to her bed and leave a cup of coffee for him on the bedside table. Maybe she’d even make him breakfast, it depended on how tired she was in the morning.

But that was for when she was done. For now, she was working on the last part of the outfit: she needed to lace up the corset. His posture needed a little work and she didn’t have the heart to tell him that to his face.

… besides, corset vests are cute. She wished more guys would wear them.

She smiled to herself as she pulled the last bit of lace through and tied a loose knot. Done.

She looked down at Tim. Loose strands fell in his face as he slept. The tiny wrinkles in his forehead disappeared, making him look much younger. His lips curled into a slight smile at whatever he was dreaming about.

He looked so genuinely at peace. She hated that that was abnormal for him.

She couldn’t help but worry a little about what he’d said earlier. He’d claimed that the reason he had gone up to the top of that building the day they’d met (as Tim and Marinette) was to scout out a location for photography, but now that was seeming like a lie because he apparently preferred taking pictures of people over locations… so, why was he up so high? He’d known it was illegal to be there, so she doubted he thought anyone else would be…

She swallowed thickly.

She didn’t think his mental state was that bad… but, just in case it was, she waved Tikki over for a bug and sewed it into one of his sleeves.

Tikki was looking at her disapprovingly. Marinette ignored her.

It was Ladybug’s job to make sure everyone was doing okay mentally, and she wasn’t going to fail a person she cared about of all people.

His head slipped from her shoulder onto her stomach and she sighed, trying to lightly push him off without disturbing his sleep. It didn’t work. He made a quiet sound in the back of his throat and buried his face in her stomach, his arms wrapping around her tightly.

Well, this is her life now.

… she supposed it wasn’t so bad, though.

#stalker x stalker #shutterbug #timari #maribat #timmari #timinette #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake #yes it's all just maladaptive coping strategies #it's ME what'd you guys expect

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pl-panda · 4 years ago

Text

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 3

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

Disclaimer: Masterlist

------------

The dinner was an interesting affair. Everyone was gathered around a large table that could easily fit several more people. Marinette was sitting between Damian and her mother; on the opposite, Tim, Stephanie, and Cass took the seats. She was glad that they were all people she knew well enough. It was overwhelming. Before, Christmas was always just her and her parents. Occasionally, Nona came too. And there was this one time when she was five when her great-uncle visited. This was much too crowded.

Damian gently squeezed her hand, reassuring her that it was alright. She ate some, but the nerves made her lose appetite quickly. She was in Gotham. Celebrating Christmas with her husband’s family. Husband… She was going to have a panic attack. She wasn’t ready.

“Habibti. It’s okay. Everyone here’s a friend.” Damian whispered into her ear, seeing she was spiraling. “Nobody is going to judge us on anything.”

“But I didn’t make any gifts for the Kents. And I didn’t know your eldest brother had a daughter! And I’m a total klutz. I will probably knock over the tree and it will fall and set the house on fire and you will end up homeless or someone will get hurt and then your family will hate me and the Kents will hate me and I…” she kept whispering faster and faster until she was finally starting to feel the need to breathe or pass out. The jury was still out.

Seeing her daughter’s panic, Sabine also grabbed her hand and squeezed it lightly. “Honey, let’s go get some fresh air.” She said loud enough for people close to them to hear before leading Marinette outside. Nobody batted an eye when the pair passed them.

Once the two were in the back garden, Mari felt her legs give up under her and if not for her mother, she would have probably collapsed. The woman held her tight and led the girl toward the bench, which was luckily not covered in snow.

“I’m so sorry, Maman. I don’t know… I just felt so overwhelmed. There were all these people and I was really meeting my husband’s family and friends for the first time and I guess I was not prepared for all this…” She was speaking fast.

“Don’t worry sweetie. I understand. Did I tell you how, when I met your Nona for the first time, I accidentally flipped her over my shoulder and pinned her to the ground?” Sabine asked, smiling understandingly at her daughter.

“No! Really?”

“Yes. Well, in my defense, she surprised me with a gun that shot candies.”

Marinette couldn’t help but giggle at that. It did seem like something her Mémé would do.

“She was shocked at first and I was afraid I hurt her. Instead, after that, she decided that I was apparently worthy of dating her boy and gave us her approval.”

“So… the moral of this story is that I should flip Talia over for them to accept me?” Mari asked with a cheeky grin.

“That too, sweetie. I can even lend you something from my bag if you want a more… permanent effect.”

“Maman!”

“Fine…” Sabine grumbled goodheartedly. “You don’t need to worry about fitting in or how they will perceive you. I’ve seen how that boy looks at you and I approve.” She smiled. “That’s all that should matter.”

“Thank you maman. I’m glad you’re here.” She hugged her mother as the two sat together on the bench, enjoying the evening chill until the cold became irritating instead of refreshing.

-------

When the two returned, the dinner was nearing the end. Marinette noted seven burning holes on the ceiling but didn’t comment. There was also a plate on fire next to Jason that he seemed adamant not to acknowledge. Also, Mar’i and Jon were levitating above the table and playing rock paper scissors, except they used the props. Silently, Marinette walked to take a seat next to Damian. Her mother went over to talk a bit with Bruce about something.

“Um… Why is Jason’s plate on fire?” She asked, very much confused.

“Tt. He wanted a souffle on fire.”

“We’re already at desserts?” The girl asked, surprised. In the corner of her eye, she saw Cass staring at Tim and Stephanie with a strange gaze. It wasn’t hostile, but rather, she couldn’t really name the emotions present.

“Yes. I saved you some maracons. You love the strawberry ones, right?”

“You made me prefer lemon ones.” She smiled. “The subtle sourness really brings out the sweetness.”

“Of course it does Angel.” He smiled. “Sadly, we sit next to Brown, who will devour anything with sugar in it.”

A devious grin appeared on Mari’s face. “Really now?” She reached over into her purse to pull a small box where she kept the power-up cookies for her Kwami. “Tikki… will you mind if I give her a burnt-red one? You know which…”

For a moment, it looked like the Kwami wanted to protest, but then the small goddess noticed the plate of cookies was empty. “Go for it, Marinette. It won’t hurt her.”

“Stephanie! I’ve got a spare macaron I can share,” she smiled at the blonde girl.

“Gimme!” She almost leaped like a gremlin, her eyes in a slight daze.

“Uh-oh. She is experiencing a sugar rush. I think she ate the whole plate herself,” Tim spoke from his seat, eyes slightly worried.

Mari handed over the macaron and watched as Steph ate it. It took only a moment for her face to flush red and tears to appear in her eyes. “Water!” She said with a hoarse throat. Tim handed her a glass, but when she downed it, the burning only increased.

“Oh no! I forgot to warn you! It was made with ground hot pepper instead of flour… silly me!” Mari said, keeping the cute smile on. “I would advise milk.”

When Stephanie ran to the kitchen, followed by Tim laughing and Cass and Damian smiling, the older boy turned to Marinette. “You are devious.”

“She shouldn’t have eaten so many cookies,” the girl shrugged. After that, she actually started to enjoy the evening. It might have started a prank war later on, but for now, she was safe.

---------

After dinner, the crowd moved to a large living room where adults took seats on the couches or chairs while most kids and teens sat on the fluffy carpet. Alfred was walking around and handing the wine glasses to adults and hot chocolate to the youngsters. Clark opted for hot chocolate as well, which earned him a round of teasing.

Since everyone was staying the night, there was no need for designated drivers. When Tim and Stephanie tried to get their hands on alcohol, Alfred slapped their hands. More laughter followed.

Marinette sat there, cuddled into one armchair with Damian, observing everything and looking cute.

“...I’m just saying, Bruce. You could smile a bit more in costume too. It wouldn’t kill you.” Clark finished a short speech.

“Work and homelife should stay separate,” Tim spoke up from his spot on the floor.

“Which doesn’t stop you from smiling. You’re not a Buckingham Palace guard.” Lois pointed out.

“To be frank, you could smile a bit more often, B.” Dick supported the enemy.

“It would be bad for the image,” Bruce mumbled. “If anyone saw Batman smile, it would ruin my years of hard work.”

“Diana disagrees.” Kor’i smiled. “She actually said once that ‘a smiling bat looks pretty handsome’.”

“I’ve seen a smiling bat!” Mar’i shouted from her spot on Jon’s knees, the two of them acting like nice siblings. It secretly irked Damian, but he wouldn’t ever voice that thought. “There was a cartoon!”

“That’s nice, sweetie.” Sabine couldn’t help but rub it into Bruce some more. “Did he also have a cape, like Bruce?”

“Yes! And he walked on two legs!”

“See? I think your image doesn’t need to suffer.” Tom joined his wife. His English wasn’t that good, but he could get by. “Maybe you could get a cartoon about Batman? Ladybug had her own movie and a song dedicated to her.”

“Ladybug?” Jonathan asked. Marinette immediately tensed at the mention of her superhero name. She definitely did not want to reveal herself to everyone here. It’s not that she didn’t trust any of them, since all of them knew about Batman and co., but she felt uneasy. The fewer people knew, the better.

“Parisian superheroine.” Sabine clarified.

“We sure didn’t hear about her back in Smallville.” Martha insisted, smiling. “Then again, we don’t really keep with the news from the old world.”

“There was this terrorist in Paris that used magic to turn people into temporary villains. He was finally defeated recently. I think you’ve seen all the ladybug decorations.” Tim explained in broad terms.

“Ah! Right. I was wondering about the ladybugs…”

Damian noted that his beloved was tense and decided that it was a moment good as any other to spring up the surprise. He shifted slightly, signaling that he wanted to get up. Marinette, who was still holding her cup, immediately sprung onto her feet. She thought he maybe wanted to leave somewhere or speak with his father alone.

Instead, Damian hit the side of his hot chocolate cup with a spoon three times, gathering everyone’s attention.

“Tt. I wanted to say a few words. This will be important so shut up you lot.” He cleared his throat before continuing in a mostly emotionless voice that most people associated with his ‘Ice Prince’ persona. “Marinette. When I first met you, it was not from our own free will. The bitch that is my mother forced our hand and tied us together. But we got to know each other out of our own free will. Nobody forced me…” His head snapped toward Dick. “Tt. Don’t you dare, Grayson.” Seeing his brother raise his hands in a surrender gesture, he carried on. “Nobody forced me to come to Paris. Definitely, nobody forced you to actually accept my courting. To this day, I am left wondering why an Angel as you would actually agree to go out with me, but here we are.”

The people watched with rapt attention. Marinette just stood there, unable to voice a coherent thought. She had no idea what was happening, but a deep red blush had made its way onto her face when he praised her.

“You were so full of passion and joy and it reminded me a bit of Jon, but without the irritating factors.”

“Hey!” The boy protested. A murderous glare from Damian shut him up quickly.

“As I was saying, you were perfect in my eyes. I was taken away by your kindness. There are no words to describe my feelings.” His tone was still emotionless and monotonous, but Marinette could see that he was doing his best to actually see this through. “I can say without a doubt that I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

All air was suddenly sucked from Mari’s lungs when he fell on one knee and pulled out a small black box. Inside was probably the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. There were three flowers on a golden band. In the center of each, there was a shining diamond, surrounded by smaller stones. The petals were made from pink stones that she suspected were also diamonds. Were there even pink diamonds? All in all, it looked beyond words.

“Will you do me that honor and become my wife?” When he finally asked, she could feel the world spinning. This was… this was better than in any of her daydreams. And not only because instead of Adrien there was Damian.

The words died in her throat. She had to sit down to not faint. “Yes…” She whispered weakly, so only Damian could hear. The boy smiled brightly (a rare sight to be sure) and put the ring on her finger.

Her gaze fell on the band he had on his own hand. It was silver with a large black stone in the center of the band, surrounded by eight diamonds. The Black Cat Miraculous she realized.

An applaud arose from several places in the room, but some of the guests were confused.

“Aren’t you two too young to get married?” Johnathan asked, scratching his head.

“Tt. Technically, we are already married where I come from. This is for my wife’s content and nothing else.”

“Married?!” The old farmer asked, scandalized.

“Tt. That’s what I said. Now can someone please get my Angel some water? I think she is about to faint.”

“Um… I would also be very interested in the story…” Clark joined his father. He wasn’t exactly that much scandalized, but confusion was clear on his face.

“I promise I will explain everything. I think we should give the two some breathing space…” Bruce proposed hesitantly.

“I will help get Mari to her room. I think she has had enough excitement for today,” Tom offered.

“I am also turning in for the night, Father. I trust that between you and Miss Cheng they will get a full story. Sans the private parts of course.” He glared at him.

“I will make sure of that.” Sabine quickly cut any protests.

“Good. Good night everyone. And Merry Christmas or whatever.” With that, he left, wanting to catch up with Tom and Marinette.

----------------

Masterlist // Next

#fanfiction #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #tiger miraculous #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #maridami #fluff #arranged marriage AU #batman #BatFam #damienette #Damian Wayne #Damian al Ghul #marinette x damian #class salt

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huilian · 5 years ago

Text

Old Pains

AO3 Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain

Summary:Bruce knew his would be a life of pain. From the moment he decided to do this, he knew what it would cost. His time, his body, his soul, every single thing he owned. He chose this, he knew. But pain when you receive an injury is not pain every time you breathe. It is not pain every time you walk. It is not pain every time you want to sleep and found that you can't because all those pains you have pushed away in the day and night all came back to haunt you in your sleep.

A/N:Merry Christmas, have some pain! I had the idea when my ankle was acting up, but uni life got the better of me, so it had went away, but then act up again before I post this fic. That's how long it took to write this. Sorry!

***

Bruce had quite forgotten how it felt to be painless. There was always something bothering him, treading through his consciousness. The mangled joint he called his shoulder, which was always aching. The broken spine, the one he had almost succumbed to. Broken and mended, and then re-broken bones gave phantom pain Bruce could never quite ignore completely. The hundreds upon hundreds scars decorating his skin, which either itch or returned to him the pain he got receiving them. Bruce couldn't quite decide which one was worse, the itchiness or the pain.

Bruce knew his would be a life of pain. From the moment he decided to do this, he knew what it would cost. His time, his body, his soul, every single thing he owned. He chose this, he knew. But pain when you receive an injury is not pain every time you breathe. It is not pain every time you walk. It is not pain every time you want to sleep and found that you can't because all those pains you have pushed away in the day and night all came back to haunt you in your sleep.

It will someday take his life too, this crusade of his. This he knew. It was not really something he would oppose. He knew that going in. It would take his time, his body, his soul, his life, and every single thing he owned. He would gladly give it. He knew that going in.

He did not know that there would be others that would share this pain with him.

Bruce did not know everything there is to know about Damian. It was a mistake he was trying to correct, but it was hard the way chasing a kitten is hard. The kitten itself would not come to you if he didn’t trust you, and the more you chase it, the harder it would run. Damian had not trusted Bruce, with a yet in that sentence if Bruce was feeling particularly hopeful that day. He had to keep reminding himself to let Damian come to him instead of chasing Damian around demanding answers. (It was Dick who gave him the kitten metaphor. It was very apt. It seemed that Dick knew Damian better than Bruce would ever be able to know him.)

Bruce would try this way of letting Damian take the lead for some more time, then he would go and ask Dick again. It did not seem to work, because Damian had not gone to Bruce for anything at all, not from the smallest of things to the important ones.

Like his spine. Damian’s spine.

Damian was not even twelve yet. He had not gone through puberty, had not felt the awkward changes to his own body that would make doing a simple maneuver felt like trying to juggle ten maneuvers at once. He had not even been to high school.

And yet, sometimes Bruce would find him laying down on his bed, clutching a hot compress to his back. The first few times Bruce just thought he had sprained something, and let him be. Damian did not appreciate it when you needle him with small things. But it happened again. And again. And again.

Bruce was a detective. He was good at this. He knew what repeated pain in the spine meant. He knew that Damian would be feeling this pain for the rest of his life. Bruce wished Damian would have a long life, living until all his wishes and dreams had come true, but he knew even if Damian lived a long life, this pain would haunt him for the rest of his days. And Bruce would never wish pain on any of his children.

"Damian?" Bruce asked.

"Yes, Father." Damian said. He did not offer any other information. It had been like this every time Bruce asked Damian something. Damian expects you to already know what was happening in his life, and would never offer any additional information. It didn’t help that Dick was the one caring for him before. Dick could see through Damian as easily as he could see through Bruce, and would not need any more information.

Bruce decided to go through this another way. “Have I told you the story of when I broke my back?”

That got Damian’s attention. The boy was always interested in hearing Bruce’s stories as Batman. Maybe it was because he was raised to see Batman as something that should be attained, but nevertheless, it suited Bruce’s purposes for now.

“No, Father, I believe you have not told me this story yet. I think that Mother or Grayson may have mentioned it, but I would be glad to hear the full story of it.”

Bruce sat down on the sofa, and expected Damian to do the same. He did not disappoint. Bruce watched Damian sitting down on the sofa, cataloguing every movement he makes. There is no pain, not today, at the very least. Not from recent injuries nor from old ones. No pain on Damian’s back, at least for today.

As Bruce began the story of how Bane had broken his back, and everything that entails from it, he realized that this was not the story children usually hear about their parents. Any other twelve-year-old would not be hearing about the time a criminal broke their father’s back. Any other twelve-year-old would not be taking notes on how to improve in their capabilities as a fighter from this story. But Damian was not any other twelve year olds.

It should concern Bruce that the parts he was glossing over was not the violence, nor the destruction. No. The parts that Bruce was glossing over this story was Dick and Tim’s brief partnership as Batman and Robin, because he knew that Damian would take offense in that. Damian would not be bothered by the violence, because he had lived all his life in it. He had borne the marks of that, from the way he moved, to the way he did not move. The way he would bite his tongue instead of screaming out in pain. The way he hides his pain even though it bothered him every single day.

As Bruce finished his tale, he very deliberately gave out lists of things that would lessen the pain, if not relieve if immediately. He gave out strategies to deal with back pain as a part of his story, knowing that Damian would be able to pick it up. A smart child, this one. How lucky was Bruce to be able to have him, and how it broke Bruce’s hearts that he missed ten years of Damian’s life.

When Bruce saw Damian implementing the strategies he told him in the story, he pretended not to notice. Not just because Damian would stop using that tried and true methods if he even suspected for a second Bruce would not agree with it, but because he truly did not know how to feel about it. He was glad that he could bring relief to Damian’s pain, but at the same time, a child of twelve should not be dealing with spine problems. And so Bruce pretended he didn’t notice, and made a note to keep the heat packs always stocked.

Bruce did not realize that Tim had worn his ankle brace to patrol.

Tim had periodically worn the ankle brace off and on; Bruce had expected that. Any joint that is prone to injury, yet still used again and again will need to be supported. The ankle is one, the knee is another, and yet another is the shoulder. Bruce's most painful one is mostly the shoulder, even though all of those joints hurt on a daily basis. That is why he was not surprised to see Tim sporting an ankle brace. It was easy enough to explain too, most of the active children had a brace somewhere on their body, and Tim was notoriously a skateboarder.

Tim had not skateboarded in so long, not since he became the CEO of Wayne Industries. He had not worn those ankle brace in quite some time either.

Bruce just realized that Tim had worn his ankle brace underneath his costume when he returned from patrol. It was not weird that Tim had worn it, it was weird that Bruce did not realize that as something pressing.

Had this really become their reality? Of pains and aches everywhere?

"Is your ankle okay?" Bruce asked.

Tim startled. It was as if he didn't expect Bruce to care about this. It was as if he didn't expect Bruce to care about him.

(Bruce cared. Of course he cared. It was just expressing it was sometimes difficult.)

"Yeah, it's fine. It's just acting out, you know?"

Bruce knew. He knew intimately how that felt. Bruce still wished none of his children have to feel that.

"Do you need to take a break from patrol?"

"What?" Tim genuinely sound confused. Is it that confusing for Bruce to want his children to be safe? "It's nothing Bruce, just my ankle acting up. It does that sometimes. Nothing to worry about.” Tim shrugged. “I’ll be fine. It’s not going to be a liability on patrol.”

Did Tim really think that Bruce only cared for him being a liability on patrol? Bruce just didn’t want his children to be feeling pain on a daily basis, not like he is feeling pain on a daily basis, but it seemed like all of them are. Tim, who is not out of his teens yet, who is not legally allowed to drink yet, is already feeling pain that will stay with him for the rest of his life. This was not supposed to happen. Bruce was supposed to protect them from this.

“I’ll take it easy tomorrow if you’re that worried, Bruce, but honestly, I’m fine. I’ve been having this on and off for years now. It didn’t bother me that much anymore.”

Bruce took from that sentence that it used to bother Tim, but he ignored it because he saw Bruce ignoring his own pain and thought he should too, and now it didn’t bother him anymore. It was not as reassuring as Tim no doubt meant it to be.

Bruce wanted to say so many things. Bruce wanted to keep this precious child that he had been given safe and sound. Bruce did not do any of those things. Words are not his forte, especially words filled with emotions. He could play with it just fine, could solve questions and intellectual riddles, but when it came to emotions? Bruce did what he had always done. He grunted.

Tim laughed. He honestly laughed. Why is he laughing? His safety is not a laughing matter.

“Good night, Bruce.” Tim smiled, and then he head up to the Manor, hopefully to get some sleep. He had not been sleeping enough. (Bruce is aware that he is being a hypocrite, but he is allowed to be a hypocrite if it’s for the wellbeing of his children.)

It was good to hear Tim laugh. He had not done that nearly enough too.

“Bruce!”

“Yes, Jason?” Bruce would still not be able to comprehend that his child, his Jason, is here in the Manor. He never imagined that he would be able to see Jason again, to hear him again. He never thought he’d be able to see Jason all grown up, instead of the lanky teenager he was before… Before.

It was a gift that Jason was in the Manor, because it was very rare. It was even rarer that he would walk around the way he is now. Shirtless, with his whole torso open??.

Bruce was still bitter that Jason grew up to be taller than him. Mostly because while he was a child, Jason was short. It figures that he would be the one to finally be taller than Bruce. But what really struck Bruce the most was how rigid and muscled up his boy had become. Oh, he had muscles as a child too, he wouldn’t be Robin without it, but it was not to this extent. Batman was supposed to be a shield, and so Bruce cultivated his body to be such. Broad and able to take the most damage. He did not want any of his children to make themselves to be like that too. (He did not want any of his children to make themselves take damage. He was supposed to take that damage for them.)

Nevertheless, Jason is as broad as Bruce is now. Bruce had known it, had seen Jason with this new stature that is so different yet similar to his stature as a child, but with armor and uniform on, Bruce hadn’t really registered that Jason is now very, very different than the skinny, lanky child he had been.

Bruce had also never seen the scars that littered Jason’s torso. Some of it Bruce knew he got from before Bruce had ever met him. Life on the streets in Gotham is harsh, doubly so if you are a child. Some Jason got from his tenure as Robin. Some, Bruce knew is a remnant from… the explosion. Most disturbingly, there is much more that Bruce didn’t know where those came from.

Bruce knew, or suspected, that Jason had training before he came back to Gotham. He must have. His skillset is so much more diverse and honed than it was when he was Robin. Bruce never thought about, or didn’t want to think about, what kind of training that he would have gotten.

Bruce was not a kind teacher. He knew that. He trained his children so that they could live. That result would not be from kindness. Gotham streets are not kind, and so Bruce trained them the way Gotham streets would treat them. But he was not harsh, either. He would not injure them for training purposes. Training is training, not grounds for punishment.

Jason was hurt a lot during those years he was away. That much Bruce knew. Bruce wants to go hunt out those people and make them pay, yet he knew he would never do that. (He knew once he started, he won’t stop.)

“Bruce!” A snap of fingers. “Hey, Bruce, are you listening to what I say?”

Bruce blinked. Cleared his mind. “Sorry, Jay. What were you saying?”

“Did you know where Alfred put his cleaning supplies? I spilled marinara sauce on my sweater and I need to soak it, like, now. I won’t get it out if I don’t.”

Bruce knows a lot of things, and Bruce knows most of the things in the Manor, but the location of the cleaning supplies was not a thing that he knew, or that Alfred deemed it fit to let him know. “I don’t know, Jay. Maybe ask Alfred?”

Jason scrunched up his face. It looked exactly the same as the expression he used to have as a child. “Yeah, I should have known you wouldn’t know. Should have gone to Alfred right away. See ya, B.”

As Jason walked away, still muttering under his breath, Bruce was greeted with the sight of Jason’s back, which had as many scars as Jason’s torso. Bruce wanted to ask how he got those scars. Bruce wanted to keep him safe so that there would be no more scars on Jason. Bruce wanted to ask if those scars bother him as much as Bruce’s own bothers Bruce, and Bruce wanted to share his tricks to mitigating the pain. But most of all, Bruce wanted to take all those scars and injuries, now and at the time they were inflicted, and let Jason be free of it all.

Jason being in the Manor is as rare as it is. Bruce did not want to lose that. (The last time Bruce said something Jason didn’t like, he didn’t come to the Manor for months, not even to see Alfred. Bruce did not want that to happen again.) Bruce kept his mouth shut, and watched Jason walk away from him.

Bruce would like to think he knew Dick. Bruce had spent almost half of his life with Dick, and that was the majority of Dick's life. But Bruce did not even really knew Alfred, and he had spent all of his life with him. So. He did not know Dick as well as he would have wished to.

He did not know the story of every scar on Dick's body. There was once a time that he knew that: a time when Dick would tell it excitedly to him and he would pretend not to freak out because this was a child, his child, and he had gotten hurt. Now Dick tend to hide his injuries from him, or simply disappear until that injuries had healed. Bruce knew that Dick is a more than capable vigilante, and an adult. But Bruce will never be able to see him being hurt without remembering the nine-year-old boy.

The man before him had many more scars and injuries than that nine-year-old boy.

"B, stop staring," Dick said without even removing his hands from his eyes. It was like he had a sixth sense of knowing when Bruce was staring at him. (He probably did. Bruce had stared at him for so long that he would.)

Bruce grunted.

“I’m fine, B. There’s no new injuries I’m hiding from you this time.”

This time. Bruce wished that Dick would not hide any injuries from him at all, but of course that is not what happens. Bruce grunted again.

“Ugh, fine! It’s the leg. I miscalculated someone’s weight and didn’t land as I should have. It’s fine. I’ll go and get the heat pack in a moment. I know I should have known better, and I should take more care of my leg. Just...let me stay here for a minute, okay?”

Bruce loved it that the two of them could communicate without him saying anything. Dick had been with Bruce almost from the very beginning of it all. There is no need for him to say anything. But sometimes, like now, Dick did not understand fully what Bruce meant. Bruce knew Dick was expecting a lecture on thinking before leaping, or to amp up his training as to not make anymore mistakes like this again. Bruce knew Dick interpreted his scowl as displeasure on him making a mistake.

This was not the case. Bruce’s scowl was because Dick had been hurt, again, in the crusade that was not his to begin with. Bruce wanted to say that to Dick, to let him know that he was both proud and worried about Dick’s achievements. But he will never say that, not in any foreseeable future, anyway.

So Bruce did the next best thing. He went and took the heat pack from the (very big and extensive) first aid kit, and put it on the very spot that is hurting on Dick’s leg. Bruce knew precisely where it is. That injury, and every other injuries Dick had sustained during his lengthy career as Robin, Nightwing, and Batman, were his fault, because he was the one who put Dick in that costume. If he could not stop it from happening, then Bruce would memorize every single spot that Dick, and the rest of his children, had been injured in.

(The spots that he knew of, anyway. Bruce was not so blind as to not know that there are many, many injuries his children hide from him. It broke his heart to know it.)

Then Bruce put his hand on Dick’s shoulder, and kept watch as Dick went to sleep.

“Cassandra?”

The girl in question was sitting on a bench, staring at her leg. She gave no indication that she had heard him, but Bruce was sure that she had.

So he spoke again. “Cassandra?”

When even the second mention of her name elicit no response, Bruce walked to where she was sitting and crouched in front of her. “Cassandra?”

She did not smile. She did not acknowledge him in any visible way, but he knew that she knows he is there. Her hand did not move from its position in her back.

Oh. How could he not realize that when he came in? Bruce may not know every single injury on Cass’ body, but this one is hard to miss. David Cain was lucky that Batman did not do worse to him.

Bruce lifted his hand, and slowly reached for Cass’ back, to the spot she was touching too. Cass wordlessly shifted herself to let Bruce touch it. God. She had been hurt here before, had been shot here and expected not to flinch as a girl, yet she still let herself be touched by Bruce.

Bruce let his hand stay on Cass’ back. She finally looked into Bruce’s eyes. Bruce looked back.

Moments passed. Words did not. They just looked at each other.

Then finally, Cass smiled. A small one, unlike the ones she usually give him. (Cass have multitudes of smiles, and Bruce had the biggest one directed at him. It was a privilege he knew he did not deserve.) Bruce smiled back.

Bruce knew going in that his would be a life of pain. He did not regret any of his choices that led to this life. He regretted that his children’s life would be a life of pain too.

#dc #bruce wayne #damian wayne #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #cassandra cain #fic #lian writes #happy holidays everyone!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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zahri-melitor · 1 year ago

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DC Universe Holiday Special #1 (2008)

Another of my favourite Christmas Specials.

The Man In Red – Santa Claus. An origin story for Santa Claus, modelled on Clark’s histoy. (Hits all the beats of a Last Son of Krypton recounting)

Somewhere Beyond the Sea – Aquaman! You know who I haven’t seen in any of the compilations yet? Arthur! We’ve had Garth, but no Arthur. In any case this is uh quite a story. Arthur rescues a couple lost at sea in a boat, the woman extremely pregnant. He's guided to shore by his father's lighthouse...only to realise it was a star behind the lighthouse, not the lighthouse itself. When the couple gets ashore they're met by two men 'dressed like kings' (this is the point when I groaned). Yes, Arthur's the third Magi/Wise Man here.

Instinctively, willingly, I join them and knee before her and her unborn child. I look at the other men, who came bearing gifts. I feel ashamed because... "I'm sorry. I have no gifts to give." "No, Sea King, you gave me the most important gift of all." They walk away. I know I will never see her again, never meet her child, I should feel empty, but this is the most special of nights. I fight every urge to join them. Instead I make my way to my one true home, the sea.

Good King Wenceslas – this is a Paul Dini and Dustin Nguyen team, if you need selling on it. It's just the main verses of the Christmas Carol, but it's done as an Elseworlds where the King is the Bat and the Page is a Robin (The peasant is Alfred).

A Day Without Sirens – Commissioner Gordon, Batman, Oracle. The premise is the city bands together for a day without the need for emergency calls or police intervention. Jim gets a little bit of hope (Oracle actually diverted the phones for a day and had Supergirl doing all the work, as a Christmas present for her dad).

Reminiscent of and in conversation with The Silent Night of the Batman from Batman #219.

It’s a Wonderful Night – Nightwing and Robin. This one I know inside and out. Tim goes to a Christmas Eve showing of It’s a Wonderful Life because it was Jack’s favourite Christmas movie. He runs into Owen Mercer there for the same reason, which makes things awkward as their dads killed each other. Dick, who’s been looking for Tim, arrives and gives Tim his Christmas present: one of Dick’s original costumes, a gift that he manages to sneak in RIGHT under the deadline of oncoming events, as Battle for the Cowl starts only three months later.

Christmas With The Beetles – Blue Beetle. The story of four generations of a criminal family and breaking the cycle, through the lens of three generations of Blue Beetle. (It's sweet. It's exactly the sort of ethos I love to see in a Blue Beetle story).

An Angel Told Me – Huntress. 'Teacher!Helena and her students'. In this one Helena lends a hand to one of her students, Alejandro, who is about to be suspended for bullying and who has an abusive homelife. She gets the kid's father locked up for drug possession and illegal firearms, so he'll be placed in care with his grandmother, and gets his suspension transferred to helping her with the 'Reach' program, which is community assistance for disabled students. (The depiction of autism in this is very stereotyped, and it's clearly not the ONLY disability in play)

The Night Before Christmas – Teen Titans. They all go to a Christmas market.

Jaime and Traci are an adorable couple in this.

But the meat of the story is Cassie and Tim, who are both more settled now, after One Year Later has finally fully spooled out, and able to talk about their losses.

(Also I've always adored the art and colour in this story, which is by Michael Dimotta and of a style you really don't see in superhero comics much)

Party Animal – JLA. John Stewart and Roy Harper capture Shaggyman right during the start of the JLA holiday party. Vixen, who's organising it, orders them both up there asap so the two decide to bring Shaggy along.

It's very much an office party.

Let There Be Light – Doctor Light. This is basically a character history piece of Kimiyo Hoshi for people unfamiliar with her backstory and motivations. The villain fight she's in knocks out the Metropolis power grid, so Doctor Light turns it back on.

#DC Santa read along

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thehelleniclunarwitch · 5 years ago

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31 Days of Halloween (Day 03)

Monster Mash

Prompt: Monsters

Jason Todd x Reader

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jason asked.

“Because this is my favorite holiday and you insisted on picking out our costumes. I’m worried that you just chose stupid pumpkin shirts for us to wear,” You said.

Jason laughed. “You have to have a little more faith in me,”

You crossed your arms over your chest and narrowed your eyes at him.

“Jay, last year for Christmas you gave me a Swiffer mop,” You reminded him.

“Oh, yeah,” Jason said sheepishly. “But I’m going to make it up to you right now!”

Jason hurried out of the bedroom and into the closet rustling around. He came out holding two bags. You watched him carefully. Jason turned away from you and started to pull the outfits out of the bag.

“What is one of our very favorite movies to watch?” Jason asked.

“God, Jay, there are too many to list,” You sighed.

“Y/n, we easily watch this once a week,” Jason scoffed.

“A League of their Own!” You exclaimed.

Jason chuckled, turned around and held up the costumes. He had a baseball outfit for both of you. You clap your hands together in excitement.

“Okay, you win, that’s awesome,” You grinned.

“I told you to trust me,” Jason said as he handed you the costume.

The two of you separated and started getting around for the night. Bruce was holding a massive Halloween costume party at the Manor. You’d be meeting up with his brothers downstairs before taking off to the Manor.

Your phone went off and you saw Damian’s squished face against the screen. Shaking your head you answered your phone.

“What up, doofus?” You asked.

“We’re down here waiting. You two ready yet?” Damian asked.

“Do you have any patience?” You asked him.

“Funny and no. Just hurry up,” Damian said before hanging up on you.

“Shithead,” You cursed under your breath.

Jason came out of the bathroom pulling on his baseball cap.

“We better get going your impatient brother has been summoned us downstairs,” You said.

“Damian is a shithead,” Jason said.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” You replied.

The two of you left Jason’s apartment and headed downstairs. Down in the lobby, Dick, Tim, and Damian were there dressed in their own costumes. Dick and Tim were dressed as Spongebob and Patrick, Damian was dressed as Zorro.

“It’s about time,” Damian scoffed.

You were quick to hook your arm around Damian’s neck and pulled him close. Damian was taller than you now so he had to bend down next to you. His green eyes sparkled up at you.

“Dude, I get it. You’re a grumpy seventeen-year-old now and that your snotty brothers deserve your attitude, but me dude? You better drop the attitude before I shove my foot so far up your ass you’ll be choking on my shoestrings,” You threatened.

“Okay, damn, Y/n, I got it,” Damian huffed.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek before letting him go. Damian wiped off the kiss but smirked at you before heading outside. Outside, you climbed onto the back of Jason’s bike. The ride across Gotham was a chilly one, but that only gave you more of an excuse to cling closer to him.

The Manor was booming with people and cars. The brothers parked off to the side and out of the way. You and Jason jumped off the bike and without waiting for anybody else you headed into the party.

The Manor was in full swing. There were dozens of people all laughing and dancing dressed in costumes. You and Jason mingled with the others. Selena was there and with Pamela and you were pretty sure you saw Harley swinging through the crowd, but you would keep that secret to yourself.

The night went on for what seemed like forever. You were surprised at how much fun Jason was having. The crowd had thinned out quite a bit leaving not many people in the manor. You were currently snuggled up to Jason on the dance floor swaying to a slow song.

Gunshots echoed through the manor suddenly and a bunch of people in monster costumes filled the room. People were screaming. You and Jason were already on alert. Dick, Tim, and Damian were quick to join you.

“Give us all of your money and jewelry!” One of the men shouted.

You glanced back at the boys.

“Let’s clean them up,” Dick said.

Everyone broke apart and started attacking the monsters. Jason and Damian both stayed close to you as the three of you fought off the intruders. Jason kept everyone away from you so you could continue to fight one on one.

Jason and Damian were attacked by four others leaving you alone. You were quickly outnumbered.

“I got you babycakes!”

You looked up to see Harley running towards you and she easily knocked out the men. Harley winked at you before disappearing again. Selena and Bruce came to join you as the others were chased away. Heaving, Jason limped over to you and pulled you in close.

“You okay?” Jason asked.

You nodded.

“This was the best Halloween party ever!” Damian exclaimed.

You rolled your eyes.

“Damian,” Bruce growled.

“What? This was amazing. It needs to be like this every year,” Damian said.

“Zipit, idiot,” Tim sighed.

As Damian started walking away one of the men in the monster costumes leaped for his leg, but Damian kicked him in the face.

“Happy Halloween, asshole!” Damian shouted.

You chuckled and leaned against Jason who was shaking in a fit of laughter himself. You had to secretly agree with Damian. This was one of the best Halloween parties you had been too.

#Jason Todd #Jason Todd x Reader #Red Hood #Red Hood x Reader #prompt #fan fic #31 Days of Halloween #Day 03

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incoherentbabblings · 5 years ago

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On the Twelfth Day (2/2)

AO3 Link Here. TimSteph Christmas Fluff.

-7-

Fancy dinner did not occur. Or rather, they had their starter, but a certain Robin bird crashing through the crystal domed ceiling had put an end to the dinner, and they had rushed out to change and help against Mr Freeze who was having a whale of a time in central Gotham. Stephanie had slipped at one point on a mountain of ice, and had bruised her spine in the fall. She lay on the sofa in the manor, Tim sat on the floor in front of her at quarter to twelve, whilst the family were out cleaning up the mess Freeze had left behind. They watched as the countdown began. Steph jolted as her memory was triggered by the sight of Gotham’s clocks.

“Oh! Tim, my handbag. I was going to give you my present at dinner. Open it before midnight! Hurry!”

He crawled over, having changed from one formal suit to his super suit to his jammies, and tugged over her little brown bag.

She watched, more nervous than she had been with any of the other gifts, worried about what he would think.

“A watch?” His voice wasn’t offended, thank God, but she still felt the need to justify.

“I just thought… I know Bruce gave you one, and you have your dad’s, so okay, maybe you don’t also need one from me, I mean it’s not as fancy…”

He kissed her, long and sweet, using whatever he could to distract her from her worries. “Fancy doesn’t matter. This is one I can wear everyday, tell people my girlfriend bought me it.” He turned just as on the tv the clock stroke midnight. “Ah! Happy New Year.”

Stephanie pressed kisses to the back of his head, his damp hair smelling sweet from the bath they’d shared earlier. “Happy New Year.”

Tim put on the watch, setting it to midnight, and kissed Stephanie again.

-8-

“Not very exciting this time I’m afraid honey.” Tim mumbled. He was buried under the bed covers, not really wiling to get up and start the day. He waved vaguely over in the direction of the wardrobe.

“Implying that I don’t love chocolates… false.” Stephanie shuffled over, settling on the bed next the lump under the duvet that was her boyfriend. Wincing with her back pain, she began to stuff her face with the selection box. She looked down at Tim and smiled.

“Timmy, open up.”

Tim poked his head out from the covers, dark hair ruffled with sleep. She popped a chocolate into his mouth, watching him smile, then disappear back under the covers.

-9-

“Catch!”

In the cave, Stephanie threw a large wicker basket at Tim, which he managed to grab hold of before it hit his head. He swayed at the weight of it. Stephanie trotted over, fully in costume, whilst Tim had yet to put in his mask. Tim turned and rested the basket on a nearby table. Opening the flaps, he went to peer in, but Damian appeared, shoving Tim out the way.

“Honey? Really Brown? You raid a farm or something?”

“Damian!” Dick pulled Damian’s judgemental look and stature away from the pair, shooting an apologetic look at them.

“He’s not totally wrong.” Stephanie sighed. “It is a lot of farm stuff. Hamper food.”

Tim began rummaging through the tissue, pulling out jars of chutney’s and jams and cheese and dried fruits. Two small bottles of beer were also nestled in.

“Steph…”

“I know the weather has been… pure shit. And there isn’t really anywhere we can go but…”

“We can go to SanFran.” Tim looked at her, eyes smiling. “Next weekend, before college starts up again. Conner says it’s been dry. Not warm. It never really is over there but…” He trailed off and looked at Steph, still facing forwards. “You’ve never spent more than a night at the tower have you?”

“No.”

“Well you have right to. It’ll be nice!” He squeezed her hand reassuringly at her nervous look. “This is really sweet Steph, thank you.”

“You can thank Conner and Kara, half this stuff is from Kansas!”

-10-

The Fourth of January was more than a little stressful, Tim had had an awkward conversation with both Crystal and Bruce (and Alfred, hovering like a bee) which had led to Dick swamping Tim in the manor corridors.

“Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii know what you’ve done! Gonna tell Cass!” He sang, smiling so broadly that Tim became faintly petrified of Dick’s teeth being put on display. Immediately alarmed, he began to slap Dick on the arms, legs and gut, as if that would shut him up.

“What do you know?” Tim hissed. Dick just laughed and sprinted away. Tim gave chase, throwing himself onto his elder brother’s back. He clung tight, and began to tug at Dick’s perfectly curled hair. “How did you find out? What are you? Psychic?”

“Just nosy!” Dick spun in a circle bent in half, Tim hanging off his back like a monkey.

“Don’t say anything!” Clinging tight and trying to choke Dick from behind, Tim entered a blinding panic. No-one was supposed to know!

“Oh, come on! You have so little trust?”

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, and you know it!”

“Who’s dumb?”

Steph appeared out of Cass’s room, several strings of strawberry laces hanging from her mouth being chewed obnoxiously, curious at the racket. Tim leaped off Dick’s back like he was made of fire.

“Nothing! C’mon, I was grabbing you for your present.”

Stephanie smiled, shoving the rest of the candy into her mouth. Waving goodbye to Dick, who waved glibly back, Tim watched with horror as he snuck into Cassandra’s room, no doubt to gossip.

Goddammit.

Pulling her into his room, Tim rushed to the bed, then held out a large picture frame, nearly as wide as his arm berth. She took it gratefully and looked at the collage Tim had compiled. It was many candids and posed shots of her, Tim, their friends and family. From them aged fifteen, to photos Tim had taken just the other day with his new camera, it was their lives together compiled into one frame. There was a gap of about two years in their mid-teens, but otherwise, it was all their history in one frame.

She set it back down on Tim’s bed. Pointing at one image of them when they were younger, their cheeks pressed together, Tim half out the frame, but they looked so young, so fresh.

“That’s mine. I had a bunch posted above my bed… Did you take them?”

“I ‘borrowed’ them, made copies for this. Your mom helped.”

Stephanie nodded approvingly. “Ahhhh, I see. Going behind my back now is she?”

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” Tim teased.

Stephanie huffed, then pressed a kiss to his cheek. “This is unbearably sentimental Tim. Thank you. But just wait until tomorrow.”

-11-

Tim had been hurt this time. A sprained ankle which had swollen up to an impressive size. He’d hurt it catching some poor kid jumping out of a building to escape a fire. The rice treatment had ensued. Rest, ice, compression and elevation. It as an old rule, but it was one Alfred stood firmly by. He had dozed off, waiting for Stephanie to return from patrol. Their plans to go to San Francisco had been delayed, since Tim was going to need the week to recover. Stephanie had tired not to let her disappointment leak through. These sorts of things were bound to happen, and it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Not truly.

She stared at a sleeping Tim, his skin looking warm in the lamp light. She then looked down at the package in her hand and decided to unwrap it for him. This one she had been working on for over a month, and it had become increasingly tricky to hide it from Tim due it’s ever growing size.

Unravelling the hand knitted blanket, she sat down on the sofa next to Tim, and spread it over them both. Tucking it under his chin, she settled into his side, and shut her eyes.

When Tim started awake later from a vague and fuzzy nightmare, he woke to the rain on the windows, the room softly lit, and his girlfriend resting at his side. His foot had flopped down off the table when he had jerked, so wincing he raised it once more to the table. Noticing then the blanket she had thrown over them, Tim picked absently at the thread, noticing almost immediately that this was a new one, and although it was neat, it wasn’t as uniform as what a machine would do.

He knew she had been working on something. He’d seen the receipts from different craft shops across Gotham, but he’d assumed it was something for herself, or maybe the other Batgirls.

The blanket was a deep gem blue, and as large as the sofa. Not only that, it wasn’t just one large square, she had done different stitches along the rims and even a circular pattern in the centre. She had worked extremely hard on this, in between college and Batgirl-ing and Stephanie Brown-ing.

Tim shifted his arms, wrapping them tight around Stephanie under the fabric. She sighed happily in her sleep, and nuzzled into his chest.

“Love you.” He murmured.

Even in sleep, Stephanie smiled.

-12-

Taking down the decorations was always intensely depressing. It meant there was no more twinkling lights or shiny paper to catch the winter light (what little there existed of it in Gotham). No, now the grim winter had truly begun.

Tim was still sat on the sofa, carefully wrapping the decorations in tissue and bubble wrap. Amongst them was Steph’s first gift of the robins. He stared at the chubby pair hard, then set them aside. They cold stay out until Spring at least. He occasionally side glanced at Stephanie getting into an argument with two sets of Christmas lights. One set she was wearing on her head and shoulders, the other tangled around her arms and outstretched legs on the floor. She huffed and puffed and cursed. He tried not to laugh, as that might have set her temper off properly, which was the last thing he wanted for today.

“Tim? Change the music? The bass is too much and…” And she continued to grumble to herself, tugging unnecessarily hard on to lights that had crossed over each other and gotten tangled.

Tim called for his speaker to switch radio stations, flipping to a classical music channel. To his relief, it was playing a soft piano tune, and Stephanie’s grumbling lessened in response.

They worked in silence for a moment, and Tim was struck by how peaceful it felt, how domestic. Safe.

Putting the lid on one of the storage boxes, Tim noticed his hands were shuddering. His nerves were kicking in.

“Stephie? Can I borrow you for a sec?”

Always weak to him calling her that, and somewhat relieved to be distracted from the lights, she leaped upwards. “Is it your ankle? Need a cold press?”

“No, no. Just, can you swap the boxes for me? Done with that one.”

She did as she was bid, but before she could replace the box with an empty one on the seat, Tim tugged her down.

Thinking he wanted a kiss, she swiftly leaned in for a smooch.

Not wanting to jostle his foot too much, she clambered onto him, finding she was sorely needing an unscheduled make out session to vent her stress.

She felt his hands twitch. One held her neck, the other had drifted downwards, fumbling around his hoodie.

“Steph.” He broke away, bringing his hand up to her cheek. He suddenly looked horrendously nervous, which only served to make Stephanie on edge. He gulped, then squeezed his other hand in between their chests. “Steph… your last present… you don’t have to say yes, if you don’t want to, you’re not ready, or… or if you don’t feel the same way…” The sadness that permeated his expression broke her heart as she began to understand what was happening. What the point of the twelve days of Christmas gift exchange was for. A ploy really, a stinkingly sweet plot.

Tim popped the tiny black box open to reveal an engagement ring. It was one of those rings that looked like it were three, crossing over in the middle, one filled with round diamonds, the other rubies, the final a plain band of white gold. Stephanie had pianist’s fingers, long and thin with bumpy knuckles, and Tim had spent an embarrassingly long time deciding what would look good on Stephanie. When he had spoken to Crystal the other day, to try and be good as ask her permission, Crystal had only pursed her lips at the sight of the ring, face giving nothing away. She did say yes to Tim asking, so that was something. The very same day he had also spoken to Bruce, for whatever reason Tim couldn’t recall. Just a small part of him that still craved Bruce’s approval, which, to Tim’s utter shock, he had given.

He had done one thing though, which had ticked Tim off at the time. Bruce had hummed at the sight of the ring and suggested that Tim could have gone bigger. Tim must have looked so offended that Bruce quietly corrected himself and said it would probably do. Tim was old enough now to know when Bruce was being deliberately cruel and when he had just put his foot in it. The guilty look on Bruce’s face suggested the latter and Tim tried to quell his feelings of inadequacy.

Now, with Stephanie’s eyes growing wet and her mouth smiling, he thought the ring was indeed fit for purpose.

“Will you marry me?” He asked.

Tears dropped down her cheeks, and her eyeliner began to run horribly.

“You want to marry me? For real?”

God they were both insecure as anything. Tim had been petrified of the concept of her saying no, she had seemingly not expected him to ever ask, to even want to ask.

“Stephie, I wouldn’t… I do. For real.”

“Me too!” She sobbed. She nodded again and again. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Tim fumbled taking the ring out of the box, sliding it onto her finger. He struggled a bit at getting it past her lower knuckle, but once it got past it fit neatly around her ring finger. Stephanie laughed, tilting her hand in the light to see it glitter. More tears dripped down her face, then she kissed Tim once more, happier than she’d ever been.

“Rubies?” She asked, pressing their foreheads together

“Thought amethysts might be too on the nose.”

“Red for you then?”

“For Robin. Both of us.”

Another kiss. “Utter charmer.” She murmured, settling in on his lap. Tim picked up her hand, and began fiddling with her finger and ring, smug as anything that she was wearing it. That she had said yes.

“Last day to say it Tim… Merry Christmas.”

“Heh. Merry Christmas.”

#dc #timsteph #tim drake #stephanie brown #my fic tag

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frankentyner · 2 years ago

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Halloween 2022

I dressed up as Michael Myers because Ray at Found Sound in downtown Ferndale let me borrow his Trick Or Treat Studios Halloween II mask and I already had just the right hue of blue mechanic jumpsuit from previous years where I was the MST3K guy (leaning toward Mike). Thankfully the rain let up for long enough for us to get around 50 trick or treaters. We gave out little Better Maid BBQ potato chip bags & a candy assortment that included Kit-Kat, Milk Duds, Whoppers, Twizzlers, Jolli-Ranchers, Reese’s mini-cups, Hershey’s and Almond Joy. The trick or treating tapered off around 8PM but I stood at the ready until a short while after 8:30PM. We got Little Caesar’s Pizza (deep deep dish & Slices & Sticks & a free Crazy Bread thanks to a promo code for a Detroit Red Wings win) and I was surprised by how much can fit in one of those “Pizza Portals” they’ve got. We watched The Simpsons: Treehouse Of Horror II, a Halloween themed Family Feud in which Richard Karn dressed up as Dracula, some of a Dick Cavett interview with Stephen King & George A. Romero, The Ray Bradbury Theater episode “The Jar”, the tail end of an Alfred Hitchcock Presents episode, The Nightmare Before Christmas, Christopher Lee’s reading of Tim Burton’s poem “The Nightmare Before Christmas”, Fright Night, Shindig Halloween TV special featuring Boris Karloff & Ted Cassidy, the second half of Night Of The Living Dead (1968) and highlights from a spooky edition of Monday Night RAW which included an RKO attempt on an opponent wearing a jack-o-lantern, which I would have loved to have seen exploded upon landing on the canvas as The Nasty Boys did in Halloween Havoc years ago but which was sort of torn off of the performer’s face during the execution of the maneuver. Still good though. Among the trick or treaters’s costumes I got were princesses, a Scorpion from Mortal Kombat(though he wouldn’t admit it), Spider-Man, Iron Man, symbiot suit Spider-Man, Venom, two Bumble-Bees from Transformers, a skeleton, a Detroit Lions cheerleader, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Batman, and Superman. All in all, a pretty spectacular Halloween evening.

#halloween #halloween 2022

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dccomicsimagines · 7 years ago

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Overdoing It - Tim Drake x Reader

“I can’t believe you forgot,” Jason retorted, following Tim through the store.

“I didn’t forget, I just lost track of time,” Tim protested. He picked up a fancy toiletry set. Tim studied it before shaking his head and putting it back.

“Sure, and I’m Santa Claus.” Jason chuckled. Tim glared at him, elbowing Jason in the stomach. Jason attempted to stop his laughter. “Okay, but why do you need me here?”

“Because I don’t know what to get (Y/N). They’ve had my present for weeks,” Tim explained, throwing his arms in the air. “I’ll be the worst boyfriend ever if I don’t find something.”

Jason snorted. “I think the fact you put off Christmas shopping until now makes you the worst boyfriend ever.” He picked up a piece of lingerie, holding it up to eye level. “Why did you bring me with you again?”

Tim blushed at the sight of the lingerie. “Because Dick would blab to (Y/N), Bruce is useless in this area, Alfred’s too busy, and Damian is not even an option.” He snatched the lingerie out of Jason’s hand. “Would you quit waving that around?”

“Why Timbo? You’re positively blushing.” Jason smirked evilly.

“Would you just shut up and help me? I’m desperate,” Tim begged, putting the lingerie back on the shelf. “(Y/N) has been so excited about the gift they are going to give me and I have nothing for them.”

Jason wandered over to check out a rack of sweaters. “Why don’t you just do the easy thing?”

Tim’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’s the easy thing?”

A smirk crossed Jason’s lips once again. “Give them your body.” Tim’s face went completely red. “Just tie a ribbon around your...”

“Stop it,” Tim interrupted, running a hand over his face. “Can you please take this seriously?”

“But I am serious, Timbo. It’s simple and (Y/N) will love it,” Jason reassured, clearly enjoying himself. Tim sighed, muttering under his breath about how he should have just came alone. Jason rolled his eyes, turning to pick up a soft, fuzzy blanket. “Give (Y/N) this. Everyone needs blankets.”

Jason tossed it to Tim. Tim caught it easily, studying the pattern. “I suppose, but I don’t think this will be enough. (Y/N) spent a lot of money on my gift.”

“And how would you know how much they spent?” Jason raised an eyebrow, unamused.

Tim blushed, refusing to meet Jason’s eye. “I may have hacked their bank account to see how much was taken out of it the day they said they got my present.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Creep.”

Tim coughed, playing with the edge of the blanket. “Hey, I do what I can to make (Y/N) happy.”

“So, get them more than one thing then,” Jason suggested tiredly, leaning against a clothing rack. “There’s no rule that you only have to get one thing.”

Tim perked up. “Yes, that’s it.” A smile grew onto his face. “I’ll get (Y/N) a bunch of things, and give them enough to match the price of what they spent on me.”

“That’s not what I was saying,” Jason mumbled as Tim started to throw items into the cart. He sighed, realizing Tim wasn’t going to listen to him. “I swear for being the smartest, you can be the most clueless.” Jason followed Tim as he moved through the store to find more things for you.

***

“Tim, it’s present time,” you called, settling down on your couch. Your eyes widened in wonder at the fifty some presents sitting under your small Christmas tree.

“Coming,” Tim replied. He entered the living room a moment later with a cup of coffee for himself and a drink for you.

You smiled at him, accepting the drink. “Thank hon.” Kissing his cheek, you laughed when Tim blushed. He took a sip of his coffee to hide his flushed cheeks. You rolled your eyes at him.

“You should open my presents first,” Tim suggested calmly, gesturing to all the gifts.

Your mouth dropped in shock. “Wait, all those are for me?” you gasped.

Tim froze, eyeing you carefully. “Yes.”

“Oh, Tim,” you sighed, picking up the first package. “This is going to take forever for me to open all of these.”

“Go ahead, we got time,” Tim reassured with a satisfied smile on his face. You smiled back at him before ripping into the package.

It took you about an hour to open all of Tim’s presents. It was almost exhausting, but you were flattered Tim went to so much effort for you. You received socks, fuzzy blankets, sweaters, pants, shirts, coats, a coffee machine, a microwave oven, towels, gift cards to various restaurants, several books, etc. The items were piled around you, leaving you to wonder where you were going to put everything.

You looked around you for a long moment. “Well, thank you, Tim. I...never knew I needed all this.”

Obvious as ever, Tim kissed your cheek. “I’m glad you like it.” He glanced over at the one package left. “Is that one mine?”

“Yeah, it is.” You reached over the piles of your gifts to grab the package you had carefully wrapped for him. Tim took it from you, surprised by how heavy it was. “You’re going to love it.”

“I’m sure I will.” Tim ripped into the package, smiling when he reached a plain box. He opened it only to receive a sight that shock him to his very core. “Is this what I think it is?”

You grinned, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Yeah, it is. I made it from your designs with Bruce’s help.” Tim pulled custom made laptop out of the box. His mind struggling to comprehend.

“It’s exactly like my design,” Tim whispered, opening the laptop to find the fingerprint scanner. He pressed his pointer finger to it, smiling when it scanned his finger and turned on once it recognized him. “It even recognizes me.”

“That was mostly Bruce’s doing,” you explained, kissing his cheek. “So you like it?”

Tim blinked, turning to look at you. “This is amazing, (Y/N).” His eyes widened with panic. “Wait, I didn’t get you enough.”

“Tim, you gave me more than enough,” you laughed softly, picking up one of the blankets Tim had given you. “Thank you.”

“But it’s not enough.” Tim got to his feet. His eyes wide with panic. “This gift is amazing, and all I gave you was a bunch of mediocre ones.”

You stood up, placing your hands on his shoulders. “Tim, your gifts were lovely. You don’t have to give me more.” He pulled away from you, ignoring everything you said.

Tim began to pace the room. His hand pulling at his hair. You sat down on the couch, knowing Tim had to work this out for himself. Moving his laptop onto the coffee table, you took a sip of your drink.

“I know,” Tim said, clapping his hands together. He was blushing madly as he grabbed a ribbon he had used for one of your presents. “Give me five minutes,” he ordered before disappearing in your shared bedroom. You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Tim, what are you doing?” you mumbled to yourself. However, you sat and waited until Tim called for you to come into the bedroom. When you opened the door, you found yourself staring at a naked Tim with a Christmas ribbon around his... “Tim! What on earth?”

His face burned redder than his red robin costume. “Merry Christmas,” he choked, repositioning himself slightly.

You stared at him before you burst out laughing. Tim blushed even more, covering himself up with a blanket. “Oh, Tim. Was this Jason’s idea?”

“What?” Tim gasped, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Come on, Tim. You’re not someone who thinks to give your body as a gift. Jason told you to do this, didn’t he?” You moved to sit next to him on the bed. Tim twiddled his thumbs, refusing to meet your eye.

“He may have suggested it, but I wasn’t going to do it until I realized I didn’t give you enough.” Tim bit his lip. “I kinda feel stupid now.”

You pulled him into a hug. “It’s sweet, Tim, but you don’t have to worry about giving me enough. I’d be fine with just a ‘I love you’ and a kiss too. I’m happy as long as you’re happy.”

Tim slipped his arms around your waist. “You really mean that? So I’m not a bad boyfriend for giving you crappy gifts?”

“Your gifts weren’t crappy. They were great, and you’re the sweetest boyfriend for it.” You pulled away from him to look him in the eye. “But you don’t have to do it every year. I think I’ll run out of space for it all.”

“I guess it was a lot, but I just wanted to make sure I gave you something that equaled what you gave me,” Tim chuckled, running a hand through his hair. You kissed his cheek as he blushed cutely.

“That doesn’t matter to me, Tim. You should know that by now.” You rested your chin on his shoulder. “Though, I have to admit you do look pretty hot with just a ribbon on.”

Tim perked up. “You really think so?” A slow grin came onto his lips. You straddled his hips, planting a long, deep kiss on his lips.

“Yeah, I do.” You pulled away, slightly breathless. “Merry Christmas, Tim.”

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N),” Tim gasped before kissing you again. Needless to say, it was a Christmas neither of you would forget.

***

“I can’t believe you did it, Timbo. You know I was joking, right?”

“Shut up, Jason.”

“But tell me, what did (Y/N) do? I bet they started laughing.”

“You are dead to me.”

“So they did laugh? I knew it.” Jason started to laugh, but his laughter was cut off when Tim’s fist slammed into his jaw.

#tim drake #tim drake imagine #tim drake x reader #red robin #red robin x reader #red robin imagine #dc comics imagines #dc reader insert #jason todd #jason todd imagine #batfamily #batfamily imagine #christmas #christmas imagine

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thatawesomenerdygirl · 7 years ago

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santa || Tim Drake

Note: here you go, a little (early) Christmas present(?) from me!

I won’t be able to write (much) during the holiday. I’ve been busy for the past weeks too! sob, I want cookies but my family sucks at baking, sob, and they won’t let me do it myself, SCREECH GIVE ME MY COOKIES YOU MONSTERS

Happy Hanukkah for those who celebrate!♥

boi I forgot to do the tags, tags (I’m so sorry): @aquawomxn @cas-backwards-tie

"I don't think I can do this," Tim argued as he begrudgingly put on the Santa costume while you stuffed two pillows into the red jacket before zipping it up.

"Oh! come on, Honey, suck it up," you encouraged, helping him with the belt since he couldn't do it on his own because of his now round stomach as he fixed the fluffy beard on his face.

It was Christmas, you and your husband, Tim, wanted to surprise the kids. You knew how in love they were with Santa and how much they wanted to meet him. You did just that, getting Tim ready as Santa Claus for the first time in his life after bribing him in the only way you knew how whilst telling him how happy your kids would be until he gave up.

"I don't know," your husband sighed.

"I thought we are through this," you pouted, putting a hand on your hip as you sent him a glare. "It's alright, they'll be happy, plus! They're just kids."

"But you didn't tell me that we're doing it at a kindergarten!" He whisper-yelled, pointing a gloved finger at the pastel-colored wall that separated the empty room you used with the kids' class. "There are a lot of kids in there."

"Seven," you corrected him, arranging the differently wrapped boxes into the bag and tied it up so the presents wouldn't spill. "There are only seven kids in that room, Tim, our kids included."

Okay, you did pull a jerk move, changed the location and the guests for the surprise without telling him first. You were in a hurry, besides, you didn't know that your kids had a Christmas celebration in their kindergarten. Another reason was, the children inside the classroom couldn't celebrate Christmas because of their busy parents.

You made your way closer to him, your arms went around his neck as you pressed your body against his fluffier one, it felt funny because you couldn't feel his body heat due to all of these pillows and the weird feeling of his bouncy stomach.

"Please, Tim, I just want the kids to have a good memory of Christmas," You gave him your best puppy dog eyes, you even purposely made your eyes a little teary to get a positive response from him. He was too soft with you, not only that, the mention of the neglected children was also affecting him.

"Okay," he gave up with a sigh earning a squeal of happiness from you.

You lowered the fake beard before kissing his face gleefully, showing your gratefulness. You could just ask Dick for this role but you realized that it wouldn't be the same if it wasn't Tim. You were also doing this for the children and father bonding, Tim was always drowned in his work and had less time with his kids, that was why you also took this as an opportunity for it.

Tim chuckled at your giddiness, he loved this about you, you were such a mood lifter. Even when you were almost in your 30s, you still acted like you were in your early 20s.

Your husband slung the bag over his shoulder as you fixed the beard. "How does Santa laughs again?"

You tapped your chin before clearing your throat, "it's Ho Ho Ho!" You mimicked the laugh with the deepest voice you could muster.

Tim softly snorted at your attempt then he tried it himself, since he was a man, his voice could definitely go deeper than yours. When he thought it wasn't enough, he tried again and again and again. He wanted it to be perfect, or at least believable.

"Go a little older," you suggested after another failed attempt.

"A little older?"

You nodded, "you know, perhaps a little shakier? Like an old man's voice. Santa is old after all."

"Is?"

"Shut up, I still believe in Santa." You stubbornly argued.

"(Y/n), you're twenty-seven."

"Hush and try again!"

Tim gave you another laugh before clearing his throat, he followed your advice and tried again. His voice still sounded young but he pretty much nailed it.

A huge, proud toothy grin broke across your features as you held a hand up. "Yeyeah, high-five baby!"

With a roll of his eyes, he high-fived you before pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. You behaved almost exactly like your children, though, they were a bit calmer than you due to Tim's gene.

"Good luck, Tim!" You cheered for him as he left the room while you hid the evidence of the Fake Santa just in case a kid decided to stumble in.

When Tim finally got into the classroom, he had expected the children to be excited, squealing at the sight if Santa into their class. They indeed asked some questions, like why didn't he get in from the chimney but the door instead which he answered with;

"The school doesn't have any Chimney, so I asked the principal if it is okay to go in from the front door!"

He kept his voice like an old person and cheerful as possible, the smile he had to keep in his face didn't waver. It was genuine, the joy he felt upon seeing the happy kids, their happiness brightens up the room more than the sun ever could as he handed the presents one by one.

But there was something missing.

His children.

His blue eyes scanning the not-too-full classroom for his kids, looking for the familiar (h/c) locks that resembled yours, and two pairs of blue eyes that resembled his own. If you were there, you could probably tell that his eyes lit up at the sight of your kids with a mix of confusion because they were just sitting there, staring with an unreadable expression on their faces.

Tim didn't move for a brief moment before convincing himself to step forward slowly, he made sure they could see the harmless smile from his eyes. He was a little anxious though, did they know that the Santa was their dad? They were smart kids so it would be possible. Or maybe the rules of not talking and receiving things from strangers still stuck in their heads? But, you told him they wanted to meet Santa then it wasn't the answer as well.

"Do you don't want your presents?" He asked kindly, still masking his voice.

The kids just stared at him, not moving, they were clutching to each other, their knuckles were also white. Another minute passed, the teachers who were present also waiting as well, the other students were too busy with their own presents.

Tim chucked back his nervousness into the back of his head and tried another way to approach them. He was an introvert, he didn't know much about this kind of thing.

"What's your name?"

No answer.

More minutes passed without any response until they decided to wail. Surprising everybody in the room with their loud crying.

"Mommy, Daddy!" They cried, holding each other's hand as they kept on crying. Tears dampening their currently red cheeks.

Tim didn't know what to do, what would a fake Santa do at times like this? Hug them? He couldn't, he tried. He approached the kids only to get them step away and cry harder, he slowly raised his hands up as he crouched down to their levels.

"Don't cry," he didn't even bother to change his voice yet still holding the softness in it, he just wanted them to calm down. He was hurting too, seeing them crying like this was like seeing you cry. The difference was, Tim knew how to comfort you, not the kids before him, the lack of closeness with them was preventing him to.

The siblings ran pass him, looking for their parents, him and you, whilst still holding each other's hand which was good. They were trying to protect their sibling from harm, the thing Tim would do for his loved ones, even his brothers even though they were just unbelievably annoying.

Tim followed the kids behind slowly, they entered the room you were in, not even bothering to close the door. Their cries became muffled as your motherly soothing voice was heard. He peeked through the crack of the door, finding two little shaking kids comfortingly caged in your arms.

"It's okay, you wanted to meet Santa right?" You gently rocked them side to side as you sat on one of the chairs.

"He wasn't Santa!" The oldest frantically said, head shaking in disagreement as the youngest nodded.

"Where's dad?" They asked in unison.

Tim took it as a cue, he walked in, gaining your and the kids' attention. He took the beard and the hat off, the bag fell to the ground with a thud, the rest of the costume joined after on the floor leaving him in his casual clothing as he took a few steps closer.

The kids then cried again, but this time, they get themselves out of your embrace, going straight for Tim's legs and clung to each of them.

"Whoa, there," Tim reached his hand down, gently patting their heads with a relieved smile on his face. He was still feeling guilty for scaring his little ones, he accidentally ruined their expectation of Christmas and Santa. He scooped both of them up with ease, rocking them side to side like he used to when they were babies as you watched him from your seat, proud of your husband.

"It's okay, it was just me," he cooed, letting the kids snuggled closer and bury their faces into his neck, wetting his skin and the fabric of his shirt with their salty tears. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

"You didn't look like Santa," the kids hiccupped, letting Tim see their flushed face.

"I didn't?"

"No, Santa is big."

"Am I not big?"

"Santa is as big as grandpa but without the muscles," they replied again innocently.

Tim was laughing along with you, their answers were always blunt yet never inconsiderate. They were careful with their words, they were such good kids he was beyond proud.

"Shall we open your presents?" You stood up from your seat, fixing the crumpled shirt as you sauntered towards them. Gladly took one of the kids from his arms.

They cheered just like you did when Tim agreed to do this, their hands were thrown up into the air as they giggled excitedly, showing their not-yet perfect teeth at the both of you.

"Well then, shall we, Santa?" You grinned at him cheekily.

Tim rolled his eyes for the second time that day, "Yeah, right, no more Santa on Christmas."

#tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #tim drake imagines #dc #dc comics #DC Universe #dcu #reader insert imagines #dc reader insert #dc x reader #christmas one-shot

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