#no one in the family knows how Dick got up there without a grapple gun

[aloha-obi]

HC that Dick spent most of his early years just following Bruce wherever he went- like he goes on all business trips to foreign countries and does his schoolwork (he’s homeschooled/private tutoring til at least high school) in Bruce’s office. He’s occasionally seen doing increasingly ridiculous stunts in the background of Bruce’s zoom calls. One time B just left the room and put a 10 year old Dick in charge for the rest of the meeting. The kid closed a business deal, declared a corporate wide policy for paid birthdays off and organized a bring your dog to work day. When meetings become too boring B puts himself on mute and plays catch with Dick until someone actually has something worth saying. And everyone remembers but it’s taboo to bring up that time Bruce got (accidentally) blasted in the face with a football while discussing budget cuts

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes Chapter 7 part 1

in which the bats start to suspect that something is going on with Jason

Masterpost

“No, I'm at Jason's place,” Dick read out loud. “Have fun without me.” He put his hands on his hips. “I think I'm offended. Are you offended?” 

Damian shrugged, cheeks hollowed around a juice box straw. He had under eye wrinkles from a long day of being a small child. Dick felt vaguely tempted to squish his cheeks, but the bites were still healing from last time and he needed dexterity to grapple.

“I'm deeply offended and think you should remind Jason who is the alpha older brother.” Tim didn't stop his keyboard mashing, splayed upside down on the back of the sofa. His neck was squashed at an uncomfortable looking angle. “Go get Duke and give him fundamental childhood memories. Now is your time to shine. Teach him how to ride a bicycle or Jason will do it for you.” 

Dick hummed skeptically. He paced a little. “Duke probably knows how to ride a bike. But still.” He took a couple of steps while he wrestled with himself. “I know that you’re trying to encourage the worst in me.” He tapped his fingers against his hipbone rapidly. 

It wasn’t going to work. He didn’t need to be competitive about this. Duke wasn’t really picking Jason over him, he was just- choosing to be with Jason instead of Dick. No big deal.

“Are you really going to take Jason take a W over you?” Tim didn’t even look over at him. 

“He’s not winning anything.” Dick frowned at the distance, out the window. It was just that usually these few hours in between Duke’s patrol and bedtime lined up well with his free time after work, before patrol. He liked having the family together. He liked that they hung out in the TV room and fought for control of the TV. It built character, and he wasn’t saying that just because he usually won.

“He’s winning,” Tim said darkly. “You’re letting Duke get away from you.” 

Dick ripped away Tim’s DS player and scowled down at him. “Stop trying to rile me up,” he demanded.

Tim gave him a shitty smile. “You’re right. It’s probably better if Duke hangs out with Jason. What’s one more bird who avoids the Manor? We can be a family from a distance. You don’t really need to see Duke grow up.”

“You suck.” Dick let go of the DS and stalked out of the TV room. He ignored the instant scramble behind him as Damian and Tim fought for control of the TV. Tim was probably doomed to two hours of Animal Planet, but Dick felt no mercy as he grabbed his riding jacket and jogged to the upstairs parking garage. He passed Bruce and they exchanged a silent nod. 

Jason’s place was annoyingly far away from the Manor. Dick steamed inside his motorcycle helmet for the first ten minutes and then decided to be a better, more cheerful person, and also to do some recon. He called up Roy on his headset. “He-ey,” he sang with the line picked up.

“Dickie McDickface,” Roy said evenly. “Fancy hearing from you.”

“Oh please, McDickface is my father.” Dick swerved around a car that was merging without a turn signal and then gunned the engine so that he could get even with the driver and show them his middle finger. “You can just call me Baby.”

“Will do, sweet cheeks.” Something snapped in the background and then a humming started up. Microwave? “What’s up? You calling just to flirt or do you need to see my face?”

“Just thought of you,” Dick lied breezily. “Since I’m on my way to see my little wing and he’s tried so hard to subsume my place in your heart.” He tightened his grip on his motorcycle handles.

“You really don’t need to compete with him.” Roy said blandly. “You’re different people. I can have friendships with multiple people without one of them being the alpha friend.”

Dick made an unconvinced hum and took a sharp left turn onto the freeway. “If you say so. I’m not arguing with a man with beautiful brown eyes.” 

Roy sniggered. “You’re terrible.”

Dick grinned. Gottem.

“I don’t think Jason wants my heart,” he said wryly. “You can relax.”

Dick got much tenser. “Oh?” he prompted. Say what you know! Reveal Jason’s secrets!

“I think he’s got someone else in the picture, he deep-cleaned his place again and last week he sent me pictures of him in three identical black leather jackets asking which gave off more of an air of careless sophistication.” A pan clattered.

“I’m sure they weren’t identical,” Dick said, a little distracted by how hopeless Roy always was about these things. “What were the lapels like?” 

A few cars ahead sirens blared and then there was a momentous crash. Glass sparkled high in the air and someone skidded across the pavement while Roy chattered on.

“Anyway, I’m actually making dinner right now. Right, sweetheart? Wanna say hello to Uncle Dickie?” Roy cooed, voice going slightly unfocused as he moved away from the speaker. 

A multi-car pileup crashed into place ahead of him.

“Oh, Lian is there!” Dick hit the brakes hard and safely settled to the side of the mess. “Hi, princess!”  He puttered through the scene at a low speed, checking everyone out. “How was your day? Did you kick ass on the bar at preschool?” Fender bender, fender bender, angry woman obviously calling the police- seemed fine. Dick hit the throttle and passed the wreck on the side.

A faint childish voice spoke in the background, utterly incomprehensible. Roy translated after a second, deadpan. “Boy Wonder, she says that she conquered like a roman general. She was as powerful and beloved as the second- no, sorry, she said the first emperor of the Chin dynasty. Lian, I corrected- I said the first!”

Dick winced. “Yeah, the first emperor was better,” he said. Massive understatement.  “So proud of you, Li-Li!”

“I better let you go. Take care, Dickie. Hope Gotham doesn’t treat you too mean.” 

“Gotham is a sweetheart,” Dick said cheerfully. “Enjoy dinner!” He cut the call and grinned to himself, thinking over the new information.

His first thought was that Roy was off-base and Jason had cleaned his apartment because Duke was coming over. But Roy was right about the jacket– Jason wouldn’t be worried about his clothes to impress a sibling.

‘What does this have to do with Duke?’ 

He turned that part of the puzzle over in his mind as he approached Park Row. It could be a coincidence, sure, but he could smell something more interesting here. It made more sense for there to be a connection than for there to be two changes to routine in a short time frame.

The only thing to do about it was to let himself into Jason’s apartment building, hoist open the staircase window on the floor below Jason’s apartment, and free climb up the wall to let himself onto Jason’s balcony. Jason’s door was only accessible by code, and he was aiming for stealth this time. Dick hunkered down to listen closely.

Duke was definitely in there. He could hear the faint music of a boss battle coming from inside.

‘...That’s definitely weird,’ Dick noted, getting excited about it. ‘Jason doesn’t own games. What’s Duke got on him? Is it blackmail? What do I have to do to force Duke to tell me?’

[celaenaeiln]

Jake and Mari meeting Damian for the first time

Jake: *watching Dick struggling to piggyback a 260+ lb man* Dad who is HE?!

Mari: Why're you carrying a man twice your size?!

Dick: *Wheezing but refusing to let go of his hold on Damian's legs* He's...he's my son...s-say "Hi, Damian."

Jake: I'm your son!

Mari: Jake's your son!

Dick: *gasping* Yes...but Damian's my first born."

Jake & Mari: *turning to look at Damian*

Damian: *looking back at them then turning his nose up and smirking*

Jake & Mari: *instantly activating their powers* This means war.

Dick: *jerking his head up* Wait-what?

--

Jake and Mari complaining to their Uncle Tim about Damian

Jake: You won't believe what he did! He hit me on the head with dad's eskrima!

Mari: He also punched me!

Tim: *snorting* Let me guess, he also stuck his tongue out at you two while Dad-DICK-wasn't looking?

Jake: Yeah! And then dad scolded all of us but when he was scolding me and Mari, Damian took dad's eskrima, put into his pocket-

Jake & Tim: *finishing together* -and mouthed "Mine."

Jake: Uncle Tim, you get it!!

Mari: *narrowing her eyes* speaking from experience?

Tim: *scowling at her*

Tim: .......hmm.

--

Tim and Jason forced to team up for a family mission

Tim: ...So I heard something interesting today.

Jason: Can we just shut up and work in silence so I can go home and eat and clean my guns in peace?

Tim: Jake and Mari told me they fought with Damian.

Jason: What? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! It must've been over Dick! It's the only thing that matters to that demon brat.

Tim: *smirking* yup. Remember when we fought over Dick?

Jason: Heh. I beat your ass. Good times, good times. I mean-what were we even fighting over, huh?

Tim: Liar, I totally won. And I know right? It's completely obvious-

Jason: Without a doubt-

Jason & Tim: *finishing confidently* I was Dick's favorite.

A ringing silence echoing in the batcave after that statement.

Tim: *smirk dropping* Did the pit wipe whatever brain you had managed to scrape by with? Dick obviously loved me more. He taught me how to analyze people, how to do laundry, and he even cooked for me! Me! He never cooks for anyone.

Jason: *sneering* And here I thought you were a detective but it turns out you were a "dumb-tective" instead. Has he ever gone skiing with you? Has he ever come up with a code-nickname for you like he did with "little wing" for me? Has he ever protected you from seeing seeing stuff cause he thought it wouldn't be appropriate?? Has he ever done that for you?

Tim: hE CALLS ME ALL THE TIME-HE LOVES ME MORE!!!

Jason: HE OPENS UP TO ME! IM THE ONE HE LOVES!

Tim: *screeching and lunging* I'LL BE SURE TO KNOCK YOUR BRAINS INTO PLACE!!

Jason: *grappling with him* AND I'LL MAKE SURE TO PUT YOURS BACK IN YOUR HEAD!!

*one hour later*

Jason & Tim: *Bloody, silent, and seething*

Tim: .....hey.

Jason: *gritting his teeth* what.

Tim: Did you and Bruce ever fight over who Dick loves more?

Jason: *mind exploding with memories of the two of them using sly, underhanded tricks to have Dick's attention for themself and sometimes even coming to blows over it* no. And I'm not the one who fought with a ten year old.

Tim: But you did.

Jason: You were thirteen.

Tim: No, I mean you and Damian fought.

Jason:

Tim: It's okay. I used to have a cold war with Bruce.

Jason: With Bruce? Why?

Tim: Because Bruce didn't want me but Dick did and Bruce is a possessive asshole who loves Dick but doesn't like sharing.

Jason: Damn. Yeah, that actually explains a lot. I'm still the favorite though.

Tim: *cracking his neck* You wanna go again?

Dick: *entering* Hey guys-woah, what's with the tension?

Jason: *Sidling up next to Dick and wrapping an arm around his shoulder* Nothin' Dickie. Heard your kiddies got into a fight.

Dick: *sighing* You heard already? It was a disaster. I'll tell you about it later. How're you doing, Tim? Everything okay, buddy?

Tim: *walking forward and grabbing Dick's hand* *furtively catching Jason's eye* Good Dick! I'm really glad you're back.

Dick: *immediately ruffling his hair and then Jason's* Awww! You're the sweetest. Both of you. I'm going to make sure the Bruce doesn't burn the kitchen down thinking he can suddenly cook in his old age.

Jason & Tim: *Turning to each other after Dick leaves* This means war.

Canon based

Dick is Tim's idol

Dick is Jason's idol

Dick teaching Tim panels I already posted before but here's him teaching Tim to fold laundry.

Dick protecting Jason's eyes from unsavory sights

Dick calling Jason Little Wing

Dick took Jason skiing when he was robin

Bruce being manipulative about wanting Dick back (another addition)

Jason is just like Bruce

And for fun XD

[river-bottom-nightmare]

i love the idea of the entire batfam being hypercompetent. just like. good at stuff.

because yea, they’ve all been trained extensively by a variety of teachers and mentors and various learning experiences. they all have their skills that they’ve honed to perfection for years. but there are just some things that they’re a natural at, things that make the unique, things that give them an edge just enough to rise to the top in a world full of gods and monsters.

yes, damian’s a trained assassin, and has been since birth. yes, damian works hard to keep his skills up. but the weapons training? it comes to him almost naturally. maybe it was something passed down from both bruce and talia, both deadly fighters in their own right. maybe it has something to do with the al ghul bloodline. either way, damian is absolutely deadly with a weapon in his hand. a blade can arc through the air faster than the human eye can see when it’s in his hand. he can work horrible wonders with an unbalanced sword, and turn combat into an art with a balanced one. tiny fingers wrap around the rough handle of a whip with surety, and he can slip batarangs into his palms and up his sleeves without them ever being seen.

tim’s got one of the most analytical minds of any vigilante alive. he’s not a supergenius or anything, and he leaves the higher-order computer skills and tech to barbara. but to him, the world is a puzzle after a puzzle, and tim never fails to solve them. figuring out dick and bruce’s identities. taking apart a grapple gun and fitting the parts together to make a beartrap. knowing exactly what to say and what to do to get bruce to break and bend and let him in. catching patterns in the chemical formulas of crane’s various toxins. reading through the lies that fell from his family’s lips like raindrops from the sky. everything and everyone tim knows are made of jagged pieces, but tim figured out early on how to put them together, step back, and take a look at the bigger picture.

people say cass doesn’t have any people skills, due to the years spent in isolation, spent alone. but the reality is, she has too many. reading people has always come easy, body language is an open book to her. but what many didn’t know was that there was a big difference between reading a book and analyzing it. it’s easy to see the insecurities of each of her brothers. it’s much harder to know exactly what to do or say to let them bring down their walls for just a moment, show their affection and prove their love in the smallest but most important of ways. it’s easy to see the poison of a smirk on a reporter’s lips, to catch the probing gleam of their eyes. it’s much harder to turn the reporter around, chasing their own tail until the story they were searching for in the first place was lost. it’s easy to pinpoint teammates and other heroes’ strengths and weaknesses, to see them play out in the field and plan for them the way every bat did. it’s much harder to make the others aware of their own strengths and weaknesses, and to convince them to put aside their ego and work on bettering themselves. but cass seemed to have a knack for it.

jason may like playing up the role of the blustering, bull-headed wild card of the family.  mafia-don-from-movies meets muscled brawn. but he’s got a literary mind at the heart of it all. he’s real good at codes and decryptions, because he’s read about them before. he’s lightning fast a nygma’s riddles, because he’s poured through the books from which riddler gets his inspiration a hundred times over. life and art turn into one in his mind, and overlaying his family’s stubbornness and trust issues with novel style analyzations and character assessments that help him understand their interactions a little better. words float off the page and wind their way inside his head, and some may call him dramatic when he can’t force himself to speak so he uses quotes instead, but never say echolalia wasn’t useful.

each member of their worn out and sewn together family had their niche, their own particular area in which they excelled. but dick was brought up in a world where there was only two protecting gotham, two partners working together to keep an entire city from falling apart. jack of all trades, master of none, but better of master than one, dick always said, eyes twinkling with mischief. because sure, his acrobatic prowess was unchallenged. but he grew up on the road visiting city after city, country after country, and it gave him a head for languages. not even dick is sure how many languages and regional dialects he actually knows. his darling little smile was honed to perfection, and interrogations with him never lasted that long. you could drop him in the middle of nowhere and he’d always find his way to civilization, or you could toss him in the middle of a bustling but unfamiliar city, and he’d always make his way back.

me, aggressively chugging sparkling probiotic drinks: I JUST WANT THE BATFAM TO BE FREAKY LIL FUCKS WHO ARE JUST UNATRUALLY GOOD AT STUFF, OKAY???

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @elles-shitposts-personified @anothertimdrakestan i’m tagging both accounts bc elle it’s like you don’t even love me anymore. @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @catxsnow @pricetagofficial @yesboopityboop @dangerduckjpeg @astroherogirl @iconbicon

[ragingbookdragon]

Batsis & Green Lantern, Sittin' In A Tree. K-I-S-S-I-N--Wait, Is That Our Sister? PT. 1

Kyle Rayner x Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 4K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Aye, looks who's back at it again with a fic like this! IT'S ME! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

The creature was coming at him a lot faster than he’d thought it was, and he barely had enough time to form a wall before it slammed into him. Even then, the force of it hitting the green construct sent him back a hundred feet and into the side of an abandoned skyscraper.

Pain wasn’t really felt when in the suit, but man, it still threw him for a loop and he groaned as he picked himself up off the ground, shoving glass and concrete away from his body. He could hear the rest of the Justice League fighting outside and as he started back towards the hole his body had made, the creature came in.

And this time, he didn’t have any to react, and the glowing magenta beast was coming right at him—fast. He lifted his arms and started to will a construction when a low sound came from his hand and with wide eyes, he watched the glowing neon green ring faded dull.

“Shi—”

His suit faded instantaneously and the next thing he knew, he was being shoved into the wall. It cracked under the pressure and his skull felt as though it’d been split when it connected with the concrete. The creature’s giant clawed hands wrapped around his throat, starting to choke the life out of him and he scratched at the magenta skin, to no avail.

“He—lp!” he gasped. “Som—on—e hel—p!”

Black started to edge from the corners of his vision and a haze began to settle over his brain as his lungs stopped receiving air.

I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die like this. Someone, anyone, help!

Something cold splattered across his face, and suddenly the steel grip around his throat went slack. The weight of the creature fell away from him and he dropped to his knees and collapsed onto his back, gasping in lungfuls of air to his deprived organs.

When his head stopped spinning, and he found the strength to move, he rolled onto his side and immediately, he recoiled with a shout of fear. The creature’s big ugly head had been decapitated and was leaking a fluorescent blue blood—that’s probably what splattered on his face and he reached up, wiping a hand across his skin. He pulled his hand away and there was the neon ichor painting his palm.

“You’re weak, Rayner,” a voice commented disapprovingly.

He craned his neck up to see a woman who looked about his age wiping the neon blood from a silver sword before she sheathed it on her back, her white slit eyes finding his.

“You almost died because your ring ran out of power.”

Kyle huffed and unsteadily stretched his legs. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the woman that saved your life.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“Thank you,” he said, casting one last look at the creature before looking back at her. “So, who are you again? You obviously know me?” he took a moment to examine her suit. It was black, with silver stripes and in the middle of her chest was a silver symbol, that of a Greek helmet. But what got Kyle was the bat wings that outstretched from the sides of the helm.

“Are you apart of Batman’s troupe?”

She grunted and tapped at the glowing screen on her wrist. “Yeah. Name’s Silver Sentinel.”

“Oh, I know who you are!” he grinned. “You’re Dick and Jason’s sister!”

“Yes, please, tell the world who my younger brothers are.”

Kyle’s face heated and he glanced down at his hands. “Sorry.”

She tapped a button and waited, then a voice came over the comm link.

Talk.

Her eyes found Kyle’s and she replied, “Rescued your Green Lantern about two klicks from your position.” A sneer came over her lip. “Fool let his ring run out of power.”

He stared at his hands as embarrassment crawled across his skin, flushing from his neck up to his cheeks.

Hmm. Can you get him back to New York?

“I could be persuaded.”

Sentinel.

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, whatever. I’ll take him back to NY.” Walking over to the hole in the wall, she saw a beam of light. “Need a hand down there?”

Negative. We’ve got it under control.

“Ten-four. Silver Sentinel out.” The line went dead, and she looked down at Kyle. “Well, are you going to keep sitting there on your ass or are you gonna get up?”

He scrambled to his feet, an apology rolling off his tongue. “Sorry.”

She merely grunted in return and started off towards the exit, him following rather quickly. As they got to the entrance to the floor, she walked over to the elevator and pried it open, and Kyle had to fight to not be impressed by her sheer strength. She placed some type of device between the open doors and clicked a button, and it spread, keeping them apart.

Next, she pulled out what looked like one of the grapple guns Kyle had seen her family carrying around, and pointed it at the ceiling of the elevator, pulling the trigger. It hit the top with a clink, and she gave it an experimental tug before looking over at him.

“Come here,” she commanded, and Kyle blinked as something tight shot through his gut at the tone she carried—one of force and complete authority. Something told him that she was the type of woman who did what she wanted and expected people to fall in line behind her or else. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve been aroused or terrified, but it was probably a mix of both as he walked over.

She curled an arm around his waist and tugged his body up against hers. “Put one of your arms around my shoulder, the other around my body.”

“I—uh—I don’t feel comfor—” Kyle stuttered as his cheeks turned scarlet and she glared at him.

“We’re not going to dry hump in the elevator like horny teenagers, Rayner.” She pulled them nose to nose and he tried not to wince as the black nose of the cowl pushed into his skin. “If you’d rather us grapple down the side of the building where everyone can see, then let’s go.”

He swallowed thickly and did as she’d said a moment earlier, putting one of his arms around her shoulder, the other wrapping snug around her back. “N-no. We can do this,” he agreed, and she grunted.

“Listen carefully, this is going to be scary because you’re not used to it, but the second our feet come off this floor, don’t panic. I’ve got you and I’m not going to drop you.”

Though her voice was harsh, he could feel the security. “And the claw holding us up?”

“Has a gripping force of two tons.” She looked at him and inched towards the opening. “We’ll be fine.”

Kyle stepped over and looked down into the cold and dark shaft, immediately feeling his heart-rate pick up and she sighed when she heard the sharp intake of breath.

“You’re such a baby,” she scowled and pulled them into the shaft. His arms tighten instantaneously and even his legs tightened around hers. “Gonna try and climb me, Rayner?” she teased.

“Shut up,” he hissed and buried his face in her shoulder pad. “Just hurry and get us down.”

She snorted and clicked a button, allowing them to descend at a faster pace than he would’ve liked. “I thought Green Lanterns were supposed to be fearless?”

“Usually when I’m somewhere I could fall to my death, I’m powered up.” He retorted, still burrowed in her shoulder. “This is a little different.”

“Relax, Rayner. I’ve got you.”

Kyle pulled his face away from her armor and stared at her, though all he could make out was the white slits. “How are you this strong? I know I weigh at least one-eighty.”

She grunted. “Yeah, I can tell.”

He blinked. “Are you calling me fat? That sounds like you’re calling me fat.”

“Your muscle mass could be better.”

“That wasn’t a no,” he griped and when she chuckled, it sent shivers down his spine.

“To answer your earlier question—”

“The one where you called me fat?” he interrupted, and she scowled at him.

“The one about how strong I am. I work out daily, Rayner, and I can lift a lot more than my weight.”

“How heavy—” he chuckled nervously when she glared at him. “I’m not gonna finish that question.”

“Good idea, Rayner. Might save you from being dropped.”

“Hardy-har-har. You’re hilarious,” he retorted, and suddenly his feet his something hard. He looked down and saw the elevator, and she shoved him back from her, clicking the button on the grapple gun.

It recoiled in a matter of seconds and she tapped a button on the side of her cowl as she stowed the gun, then she moved to the corner of the elevator and brought her foot down as hard as she could. Kyle winced when the hatch gave way and he wondered how powerful she was to kick through a metal latch in one hit.

She looked at him. “Come on. I’ll call the Batplane when we get outside.”

“I thought only Batman was allowed to do that?” he asked, and she scoffed.

“Let’s just say I’m the one who’s allowed to do whatever she wants, and things don’t get fucked up.” She disappeared down the hatch and a moment later, he heard the elevator doors being pried open. “Are you coming, Rayner? I’d be more than happy to leave you here without a ride home.”

Kyle hurried and squeezed down the hatch, grunting when his tennis shoes hit the floor. The elevator rocked and creaked and she made a noise that sounded a lot like the one Batman made when he was annoyed.

“Hurry up and get through the doors.”

He ducked under her arms and out onto the floor and she followed, letting the thick metal doors slam behind her. She strode ahead and tapped at her screen.

“Alfred, are you there?”

A moment later, an older voice came over the line.

Yes Miss Wayne. How can I assist you this evening?

“I need the Batplane at my position. Could you send it?”

At once.

“Thanks Alfie.”

Of course, Miss Wayne.

As they waited in the lobby of the skyscraper, she murmured, “If you’re not going to ask whatever you’re thinking about asking me. Stop thinking. It’s annoying.”

Kyle blinked. “How’d you—”

“Oh please.” she rolled her eyes. “You’ve opened and shut your mouth eight times in the last two minutes.” She gazed at him. “Just ask.”

“You’re really Bruce Wayne’s daughter? (Y/N) Wayne?”

“I am.” (Y/N) replied. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I dunno…it’s just kinda hard to believe that a famous model doubles as a vigilante at night.”

“Why’s that so shocking? My dad’s a multi-billionaire playboy by day and Batman by night. Are you telling me a woman can’t do it too?”

Kyle’s green eyes widened, and he shook his head. “What? No! That’s not what I meant! I just meant that with back-to-back photo shoots, it must be hard to make time to do all this.”

(Y/N) hummed, turning her gaze to the street, a blur of red went by and she knew it was Barry Allen. “I run on my own schedule, Rayner, not anyone else’s.”

“Wow, you really are the woman in charge, aren’t you?” he remarked.

And she turned her eyes onto him again, this time narrowed in amusement as she teased, “Trying to see if you can find out what it’s like to be in charge for the night?”

Kyle’s mouth opened and snapped shut. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, swallowing nervously.

She crossed over to him in one step, getting up in his personal space again as she cooed, “Oh, you don’t?” he nodded and she reached up, trailing her silver armored fingers up the front of his white shirt and he was incapable of fighting how his muscles twitched at the pressure.

“I think you do,” she flirted. “Come on, Rayner. Don’t you wanna see what it’s like when you’re the man in charge? How much fun it can be to take all that control?” (Y/N) leaned close, her face barely an inch from his. “To be the one who holds all that power over a woman?”

He couldn’t breathe. His head was swimming with R-rated thoughts that if she really were a mind reader, she’d probably break his jaw, but all he knew was that his mind was so far into the gutter it wasn’t funny, and he swore she could hear his heart pounding.

She pulled away. “You should break out on your own instead of working for a design company. Then you’d have better control over your own schedule.”

Kyle blinked, stunned silent, then he said, “Wait, what?”

(Y/N) cocked her head to the side. “What?”

“What was,” he gestured wildly. “All that just now?”

Placing a hand on her hip, she asked, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Rayner. All I said was that you should get on your own.”

A deafening sound shook the floor and Kyle stared at the black plane settling down in the middle of the street. (Y/N) walked out the doors and to it as if it just hadn’t pulled a “J-turn” at twelve G’s.

“Let’s go, Rayner. I’ve got better things to do than babysit you,” she called, and he ran after her. She helped him climb into it, then scowled. “Move over. You’re in my spot.”

He shimmied in the tight space to the other seat and strapped in, watching curiously as she tapped at the buttons and flipped switches before grabbing hold of the steering device.

Kyle snorted. “It’s even shaped like a bat.”

(Y/N) huffed. “Yeah, that’s how we do things in our family.” She tapped at the screen. “Batman, this is Silver Sentinel. Come in.”

Read you loud and clear, Sentinel.

“Green Lantern and I are in route to New York.” She paused and directed her gaze to the screen, watching red dots surround a group of blue ones. “You’ve got enemies incoming. Do you want backup?”

Negative. You and Green Lantern get back to New York. We can handle this.

For once that night, Kyle watched as concern crossed (Y/N)’s face and she replied, “Dad, I think—”

I gave you an order, Sentinel.

(Y/N) glared and looked at Kyle and he about shrunk in his seat form the withering stare; she tossed him a helmet and ordered, “Put that on and don’t puke in it.”

“Don’t what?” he inquired as he put it on and the only answer he got was the sudden kick of the engines and he was pulled back in his seat. “Holy shit,” he whispered breathlessly as the Batwing took a U-turn in the air and headed off towards the fight.

Sentinel, we’re fine.

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t believe that,” (Y/N) retorted and in a matter of moments they were flying over the rest of the Justice League. She tapped at the screen. “You’ve got incoming hostiles from the north, east, and west.” (Y/N) flipped a few switches above her then pressed a button on the steering wheel. “Heatseekers and nanite missiles deployed.”

Kyle watched her go between the screen and the switches. “Hostiles in the east and west quadrants have been eliminated.”

What can you tell me about the north?

“You’ve got multiple hostiles coming in. Got a big guy too. Got any tips?”

They’re vulnerable to sound waves. Take him out and we’ll do the rest.

“Ten-four. Happy hunting.”

(Y/N) turned the steering wheel and directed the Batplane towards the north part of the fight, grinning when the giant creature came into view, while Kyle looked like he was going to crap himself.

“Merry Christmas, ugly. Kiss my ass,” she quipped and pressed a button, and a black tube the size of a fire hydrant shot to the ground, and with a thunk, sunk in.

“What’s that supposed to do?” Kyle asked and she grinned.

“Watch and learn.”

The device popped up, blue and armed and she hit the screen. Immediately the windows of every building and car in the mile radius shattered and to his amazement, Kyle watched the creatures screech and grab at their heads before they exploded into piles of neon blue goo.

His jaw dropped. “Holy shit. That was cool.”

(Y/N) smirked and checked the map once more. No more hostiles inbound and she hit the comm link again. “Justice League you are all clear. I repeat, Justice League you are all clear.”

Good work, Sentinel. Now do as I told you and take Green Lantern back to New York.

“Is nothing I do good enough for you, father?” she griped, though Kyle could see the humor in her eyes.

Get off the comm link.

“Make me.”

Sentinel. Get. Off.

“Fine, fine. I love you too.” (Y/N) pushed at the screen once more then reclined in her seat, shutting her eyes.

“Don’t you have to fly this thing?” Kyle asked as the engines picked up again.

“Nah. It’s got autopilot.”

“I gotta get me one of these,” he whispered, and she reached over him, pulling out something from a drawer. (Y/N) opened a snack bag and popped a cookie into her mouth.

“You could probably construct one with your ring,” she offered, then held out the bag.

He took one with a ‘thank you’, then said, “Yeah but there’s nothing like owning the real thing.”

“HA! Give my dad a couple million dollars and he might be willing to part with one.”

“And on that note, I’ll stick to constructs,” he chuckled, and the rest of their flight was filled with easy banter, where (Y/N) found herself teasing Kyle a lot more than he was comfortable with—only because he found himself lacking a comeback for every remark she gave him.

***

“You really gotta get a new apartment. This place is way too small for a grown man,” she commented, and he snorted, picking up a pair of shoes that were laying haphazardly on the floor.

“I’m not exactly on the billionaire’s credit card, (Y/N). I live on minimum wage and whatever I can get out of commissions.”

She observed Kyle as he recharged his ring and when he was finished, she asked, “How much do you charge for commissions?”

He blinked and looked up at her. “Oh, well it depends on what the commissioner wants me to do.”

“Give me a price range.”

“Uh…between eighty and two hundred. That’s usually what I charge.”

(Y/N) thought for a moment. “Mind showing me some of your best works? I’ve been thinking about hiring a graphic artist for a new project I’m working on.”

Kyle felt a giddy feeling rise in his chest and he practically tripped over himself to his desk to grab his sketchbook. His cheeks were warm when she giggled and took it from him, flipping through it in silence. And that wracked his nerves because without the cowl on, he could see just how scrutinizing her gaze was.

After a moment she passed it back to him and when she didn’t say anything, merely frowned, he couldn’t help but deflate a bit. “I guess it’s not what you’re looking for, huh?” he tried to sound light, but it came out a lot bitter than he meant.

(Y/N) hummed. “It’s exactly what I’m looking for.”

“I can get you in touch with a better artist at the—” he stopped mid-sentence and gaped at her. “Wait, what was that you said just now?”

She snorted. “I said your work is exactly what I’m looking for.”

He couldn’t fight the shock coursing through him. “Really? It is?”

Suddenly her smile was replaced with a scowl and she bit out, “Quit making me repeat shit and listen the first time.”

Kyle nodded. “Right. I just…wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

“I know,” she replied cockily, then took out her phone and tapped at the screen before showing it to him. “I know you’re a graphic designer and not a clothing one, but you’d be really helpful with the new line of clothing and jewelry I’m planning on making.”

He took her phone gently and swiped at the pictures. “Justice League themed?”

(Y/N) tipped her head. “We’re doing an exclusive line for Gotham’s vigilantes first. If it pays well, we’ll go from there.” She took her phone back and stared at him. “I’m willing to pay you up to two grand for every design you give me.”

Kyle’s eyes practically popped out of his head and his jaw went slack. “Are you—are you being serious?”

She nodded and stowed her phone. “On one condition.”

He nodded. “For two grand a design? I’ll do anything for you.”

The corner of her mouth rose in a smirk and he realized his words too late as she purred, “Well I would love to see you on your knees for me. So, I’ll keep that in mind, Rayner.” Waving a hand, she added, “But besides that, if you want the job, you have to come to the manor.”

“Wayne Manor?”

“Mhm. I’ll provide everything you need to create and design.”

His dark brows furrowed. “I can do that, but why?”

A solemn look came across her face. “You almost got yourself killed tonight because you let your ring power down.” She placed her hands on her hips. “If you want this job, you’re going to take combat lessons from me and you’re going to start working out more.”

Kyle’s face pinched. “You want me to work out and get my ass kicked for a job?”

“More like so my brothers don’t lose a best friend.” She shrugged. “But, if a freelance artist like you can find better money elsewhere, I’d be happy to let you go and—”

“I get it!” he scowled and looked away for a moment before sighing and turning back to her, his hand outstretched. “Fine. It’s a deal. You pay me and I’ll do your designs.”

“And?” she questioned with a smirk.

He groaned, his muscles already feeling the pain coming. “And I’ll take lessons from you.”

(Y/N) smiled. “I’m so glad we could come to an arrangement.” She shook his hand. “It’s going to be a pleasure doing business with you, Mister Rayner.”

Kyle swallowed thickly as she pulled away and walked to the fire escape. “Likewise, Miss Wayne,” he replied lowly, knowing that with each sway of her hips, he was getting more and more screwed. Not only was she his better, she was also his best friends’ older sister—hotter and badass older sister.

She opened the window and paused, looking back at him. “This’ll be a three-month project. Are you okay with that, Kyle?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.” (Y/N) seemed to be thinking about something and he could tell. “Is something on your mind?”

She pulled on the cowl and gazed at him. “I’ve half a mind to tell you to pack a bag and spend the time at the manor while we do the project.”

“Pay my rent and I’ll consider it,” he snorted and then she blinked and shifted her gaze down to her wrist then tapped at it.

After a minute, she said, “Alright, your rent and utilities have been paid for the next three months.”

“What?”

“You said pay your rent. So, I did.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Kyle begged—he didn’t want to owe her like that.

She smiled. “Pack a bag Rayner. You’re moving in.”

“Seriously?”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop making me repeat things?”

He sighed heavily, moving to pack. “Yes ma’am.”

“Ooo, call me ma’am like that again and I might not let you leave when this is over.”

[jinmukangwrites]

Day 5 (6-17): Aged-up | Mother and son | Brothers

Warnings: near death experiences, drowning, canon typical violence, kidnapping

Note: I felt like I've written a lot of Dick and Damian bonding this week... So I'm switching it out with Jason. I had other things I wanted to write for this prompt, but it got too late at night to write something long. Enjoy this short, hurt/comfort Jason and Damian bonding instead <3

-o-o-o-o-

Damian's only been captured for a few hours... and already he feels more miserable than he has in a long time.

None other than the Penguin stands before him, sneering cheek to cheek as his associates finish tying the knots around chest and the damp wooden pole his back leans against. The sand underneath him is rocky and sharp; he can already feel the curious laps of the returning tide against his tailbone. His hands are restrained behind the pole as well, while his legs are tied by his ankles. He's sitting, and stuck sitting thanks to the rope around his chest.

His head aches, which isn't very surprising considering the thing that got him in this situation was a well placed hit to his skull via a brick.

He didn't mean to get caught. He simply wanted to blow off some steam after getting fed up with Jason while on patrol. Of all people to be paired up with, it had to be Jason. It couldn't have been someone Damian gets along with like Richard, Duke, or Cassandra. It couldn't have been Timothy where they at least know when boundaries are being pushed with their banter. It couldn't have even been Stephanie, where she's at least funny.

No, the entire family was there, and Damian got paired with the one he doesn't know how to deal with. He got annoyed by the constant, demeaning tone Jason would use on him, and after one too many backhanded insults that only Jason found funny, Damian snapped. He doesn't even remember what exactly was said, he just knows he yelled at Jason to go on without him, and Jason didn't stop him when he turned the other direction.

Thinking back on it, Damian probably insulted him back, and the reason he let Damian go was because he was just as annoyed as Damian was.

It doesn't matter now. What matters is that he didn't intend to stumble upon the Penguin and his goons in some warehouse by the coast. He was just going to take down a few classic muggers or something of similar nature and go back to Jason and act like the argument never happened.

He intended to go back and tell his father about the Penguin's actions, but he didn't notice a pigeon until he almost stepped on it. Startled, it flew up at his face and he fell backwards right through the already broken skylight. He barely managed to slow his fall with his grappling gun, but he still hit the ground pretty hard. Hurt and surprised, he didn't have time to even stand up before the brick was smashed against his skull.

And now he's here, under Gotham's docks, being tied to a poll while the Penguin laughs to himself.

"I'll just let the tide kill you for me," he says to himself, yet his idiot goons still cackle. Damian glares at them, but they only laugh harder, sending down their own insults until the ocean water begins to pool up to Damians toes.

The Penguin makes a remark that it's time to go, and that he doesn't want to get his new dress shoes messy, and then they're gone, leaving Damian to attempt to tug on the ropes holding him against the pole. He tries to reach for the small blades he keeps in the compartments of his gloves, but his fingers come away empty. Curse Gotham's Rogues and their ability to actually use their brains and disarm their captives when they get their hands on them.

He strains harder on the ropes now, twisting and trying to reach any knots with his fingers, but all he succeeds in doing is cutting off the circulation to his hands and pressing the rope into his chest.

He relaxes with a frustrated huff and glares at the water that's already risen a few inches to ripple close to his hips. He knows that not long from now, the water will be above his head.

For now, it's freezing, and once it reaches his fingers, escape will become all the more impossible thanks to numbing appendages.

He tugs on the ropes, then tugs some more, and he keeps going until he has to stop and let the blood come back to his fingers.

The water continues to rise, seeping through his suit and into his bones, rising to his fingers, then his arms, then his shoulders... It's when it finally touches his chin when the despair and terror finally settles.

He can't get out. He can't get out. The ropes feel no more loose than what they were when he began trying to undo them, and his fingers are so numb now they must be turning blue under his gloves. His jaw aches from his chattering teeth, and his nose is beginning to run.

He pulls desperately on his bonds now, his attempts to escape becoming more and more reckless the longer he sits here. He's hyper-aware of the movement of the water around him, and his panic is making it difficult to breathe.

Through his terror, he hears something. The motor of a bike. He hears the engine cut out nearby. He can probably shout for help.

It's his last hope. He can only pray that whoever came to the docks at this hour of night, that they are friendly. He opens his mouth to yell for assistance, but he chokes when sea water enters his mouth. He scrambles his bound feet against the rocky sand, attempting to lift himself up the pole just a little higher, but he doesn't go anywhere. The ropes are too tight.

He's not sure if the water near his eyes is from him flailing in the water, or if it's because of frightened tears. Either way, he can feel the water tickling his nose, and he only has a split second to suck in one last breath of air before the water rises above any means to breath.

"Robin?" A deep voice shouts, and Damian could sob at the irony of it. "You here?"

Someone came looking for him, but they don't know where he is. He's going to drown under the feet of someone who could have saved him if they had come just minutes before.

The water rises over his head now, and he can no longer hear anything besides the racing of his heart. He can't feel his fingers or toes anymore, and he's sure he will drown with bruises under the ropes on his chest.

He's going to drown. He's going to die. His lungs hurt, already his oxygen is running out. He's panicking and it's cold and he's going to die-

He doesn't know how much longer he holds his breath, only that eventually, his mouth opens against his will and sucks in water that may as well be fire going into his lungs.

Black creeps into his vision... and with the last sight of dark bubbles erupting around him, he loses consciousness.

-o-o-o-o-

He wakes up vomiting. A strong hand wraps around his arm and holds him on his side so he can empty his lungs and stomach of salty sea water. It feels like his insides are being torn apart, but eventually it calms down a little so he can finally suck in a gasp of air.

The hand on his arm becomes two, snaking around his shoulder blades to sit him up and squeeze him against a broad chest.

"Holy shit," a familiar voice gasps, "Jesus fuck."

"J'son..." Damian murmurs, trying to make sense of what's going on. His throat feels abused, and his head pounds like drums. He's so tired, his eyes begin to drop.

"Nah don't you fucking think of it," Jason growls, pulling him away from his chest and giving him a hard shake. Damian blinks, trying to focus. Jason brings a hand up and brushes his dripping hair from his face.

Then, it all comes back to him. The tide... The water... He was drowning...

He thought he died.

But here he is, untied from the pole and on the docks, looking at Jason's bare and dripping face with his helmet castaway on the ground. He must have given him mouth-to-mouth... And his chest aches like he's taken a beating. Must be the combined bruises of the ropes and from chest compressions.

He's suddenly overwhelmed with emotions, all of his fear slamming right into him.

"You came," he croaks, not sure if it's because of his abused respiratory system or if it's because of his rekindled tears.

Jason's face twists, then he pulls Damian back in to squeeze him tightly once again. The hug is a surprise, and it hurts, but Damian doesn't fight it. He's too relieved and scared and confused and ashamed to fight it.

"When you didn't answer the comms, I thought you were still mad," Jason explains. The rumble of his voice in his chest against Damian's cheek is oddly relaxing. "But then it started getting late and I didn't feel right, so I asked Babs for your coords and- fuck- I thought I got you killed."

"How did you know...?" Damian asks, not willing to go further into the sentence and endure the pain of his throat.

Jason gives a laugh, and it's almost hysterical. "A lucky guess? I don't know, I guess it's just habit to look in the water when something goes wrong at the docks." There's a pause. Then Jason releases Damian once again. "I'm sorry. I said some things I shouldn't have. This wouldn't have happened if I kept my cool."

Damian shakes his head. It doesn't matter now. "You came."

Jason's lips twitch. "Of course I did. We're... Brothers. Even if we don't get along all the time, I still don't want anyone beating you up other than me."

Damian let's out a laugh, though it dissolves into a fit of coughs. Jason rubs his back during all of it, then once he calms down he helps him to his feet.

"C'mon," he says, "let's get you back home so Alfred can check on you. The sooner we get back, the sooner I can get getting yelled at out of the way for letting you go off on your own."

He helps Damian up to his feet, and Damian gratefully clutches to his jacket to steady himself. "I am to blame too. Once we tell father you helped save me, he will be less angry."

Jason snorts. "You think I'm worried about the old man? It's Dick I'm worried about."

"Ah," Damian grins, all the fear finally ebbing out from his system. "I'm afraid I cannot help you there."

Jason helps Damian onto the bike and returns his helmet so it's over his head. He holds Damian in front of him with one arm securely around his chest as he drives. He feels safe nestled against Jason like this. It's strong and unyielding. His relationship with the older man has always been strange, considering they weren't always on the same sides when Richard was Batman.

But this? This is safe. It's warm. Is careful and gentle. Normally he'd be embarrassed to be so vulnerable like this near Jason, but like Jason said... They're brothers.

He cannot help but feel a little disappointed once they finally make it back to the cave. Yet it seems he's misjudged Jason once again, because after he was rushed to the med-bay and Jason got an earful from Richard... he fell asleep and awoke the next morning with Jason still there.

Things may not be perfect with Jason, and they argue a lot, but Damians sure things have a chance of becoming better.

They're brothers, after all.

[themaribatpit]

Saturday Challenge: Continue a Fic You Wrote for Jasonette July

Written by: The Maribat Pit  @jasonette-july-event Prompt: Continue a fic you wrote for Jasonette July Rated: M (for violence and strong language)

Then Perish : Part 2

Marinette tossed the helmet aside, she glanced over at the desk and grabbed a letter opener.  She tried to take several swipes at him, all of which he evaded with ease before grabbing her by the wrist.  Marinette tried to drop the letter opener into her other hand but he caught it before she did.  “Nice try, mind telling me why you’re so desperate to kill me?” he asked, Marinette could just about hear him smirking under the mask.  Up close, she noticed that, in addition to his dark hair,  there was a white streak of hair framing his face.  His eyes were still covered by the domino mask as they looked down at her.  “You killed my parents,” she growled. “So is that what this is all about…tell me, what makes you so sure that I did it?” he asked. “I saw you, I saw people begging for their lives just before you killed them.” she recalled, “I saw you standing over their dead bodies.” He pushed her back with very little effort, but before she could charge at him again, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun.  He tossed it to her and she caught it, the cold metal felt heavy in her small hands. “If you are so certain that I’m the one who did it,” he said, “then let the punishment fit the crime.” Marinette looked down at the gun in her hands, she knew exactly what he was asking her to do.  She took aim with the gun, her hands shook as she pointed it at the Red Hood. Her eyes were wide, her hands were shaking, she tried to steel herself.  She tried to ignore the voice in her head telling her that something wasn’t right.  It couldn’t be this easy, there had to be a catch, a struggle, something.  She brought her other hand to the gun, trying to hold it steady. She hoped he couldn’t hear her heart hammering in her chest, she tried not to think about how frightened or nervous she was at that moment.  Meanwhile the Red Hood remained calm, beckoning her to shoot him. “Come on I’m right, here, need me to draw a bullseye?” he taunted. Marinette squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the trigger, she heard a loud BANG, followed by silence.  She slowly cracked open an eye to see her target. “You missed.” Red Hood remarked. Marinette tried to make another shot, but the gun went CLICK, it was empty.  She looked down at the empty gun in her hand, before glaring up at the Red Hood. 

“Look kid, you’re after the wrong guy. I’m not the one who killed your parents.” he explained.

Marinette eyed him suspiciously “More lies.” she scoffed as she glared at him.

“Fine, but the camera doesn't lie,” he walked over to the laptop on his desk and pushed a button. A projector screen appeared and began playing footage from a camera during that fateful shootout. Red Hood continued typing away, until he found the right camera to see the events unfold. “There, camera 5.” he finished typing and turned to watch the footage with her. 

Marinette stared at the footage, her eyes widening in shock. She saw their final moments and it made her heart ache. She watched them go looking for her while she was helping other people as Ladybug. She wondered if she had left those people to die in Park Row, would her parents still be alive and well? She watched her parents run into some mobster with a gun, he tried to mug them. Her father tried using his large size to threaten the mobster, but he had a gun and her father didn't. Tom Dupain was then shot in the head, Sabine held his dead body begging for the mobster to spare her. 

Upon hearing her mother’s cries of mercy, Marinette dropped the gun and fell to her knees.  Her hands were balled into fists, trying to latch onto the carpeted floor beneath her.  There were tears dripping down to her cheeks and clouding her vision. Even so, she could not bring herself to look away, she had to know who this man was. The man then shot Sabine in the head. He ran away, just as the Red Hood showed up on camera to inspect the unfortunate couple who walked past Park Row. 

Marinette wailed as the video footage ended, “No more, please no more,” she cried. “<Mom, Dad, I’m so sorry.>” she cried to herself in French. 

Jason watched the girl cry her heart out after watching her parents get murdered. He couldn’t blame her, no one could. He sat on his desk, as she continued crying. He brought up zoomed camera footage and a mugshot up on screen. Once he was done he stepped in front of her.

The Red Hood standing right in front of Marinette was enough to stop her from crying, she looked up. “You want the man who killed your parents?” he asked. Marinette could only nod. “Luca Angelo, known associate of the Falcone Crime Family.” he stepped aside and pointed to the mugshot. “Last spotted in the Falcone Slaughterhouse.” 

“You want him? We’ll go together at sunrise.” he told her. Marinette stood up and nodded, wiping her tears on her sleeve. “All right Suzie’ll bring you back to your room, they’ll pick you up again later.” Marinette then left the room, escorted by Suzie Su.  

Jason looked over at his window viewing the Gotham Skyline. “I know you’re there Batman, come on in, it's unlocked.” Batman emerged from the shadows. 

"Isn't she the French girl that was in GCPD a few weeks ago?" Asked Batman, staring straight at Jason.

"Yup" said Red Hood, "Sent back to Paris, if I remember correctly. Came back to Gotham thinking I was the one to kill her parents." Red Hood shrugged and sat on his chair, feet resting on his desk.

“She could have killed you.” Batman pointed out. “It’s nice to know you care, Bruce.” Jason said sarcastically, “You saw what happened there, she couldn’t even get a scratch on me.” he explained. “Not without her powers anyway,” he thought.  “She could have killed me...just like how I could have killed the Penguin.” Jason told him.  Batman sighed, remembering how Jason explained that the Penguin didn’t really die the night that he shot him.  One of these days, Jason was going to give him a heart attack with all the elaborate stunts that he pulled. 

"Why are you two going to the Falcone Slaughterhouse?" Batman asked, as Jason poured himself a drink. 

"Closure." Jason told him,  "You and Dick should know how important closure is when you lose your parents." 

"Luca Angelo is dead." Batman stated, "That gang war was unsanctioned by the Falcones, they killed him to appease you and the Maronis."

"You're right, but she'll need to learn that herself.” Jason nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his drink.  “At that moment she’ll have to make a choice, whether or not she wants to find peace or let her vengeance spiral out of control?” “That’s quite a risk to take,” Batman pointed out, “what makes you so sure she won’t choose the latter?”  His eyes fell on the helmet that lay discarded on the floor. “Call it a calculated risk,” he said “sometimes you just have to give people a chance.”  Batman narrowed his eyes, Jason looked back at him over the rim of his glass as he took another sip.

"Fine," Batman relented. "but I'll be there to watch you two." “Say hi to Yo-Yo Girl for me, next time you see her.” Jason said nonchalantly, “She was a huge help getting people to safety that night.” “Yo-Yo Girl?” Batman asked, Jason looked up and cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry, thought she was one of yours,” he said, before finishing the last of his drink.  Batman decided not to ask anything more about it, before he crept back into the shadows and vanished. That morning, Marinette opened the Miracle box and took out Tikki’s earrings.  Tikki gave her a sad look, “Are you sure about this, Marinette?” she asked in a soft voice. “I saw the man who really killed my parents,” Marinette told her, “if I let him walk free, all this would have been for nothing.”  Tikki sighed but had no choice but to comply.  “Spots on” she said, she transformed into Ladybug, ready to face the real culprit. When she stepped out onto the rooftop, Red Hood was waiting for her.  He turned to see the Yo-Yo Girl who was getting civilians to safety that night, it explained how she managed to avoid meeting her parents’ fate that night.  Still, this should be interesting. “So you got a name or is it really just ‘Yo-Yo Girl’?” he asked. “Ladybug,” she told him, “let's get this over with.” she said.  Red Hood grappled away and Ladybug followed with a very creative use of her yo-yo.  

Later, Red Hood and Ladybug snuck into Falcone Slaughterhouse.  The pungent smell of blood gave Ladybug the sinking feeling that livestock wasn’t the only meat that was cut up here.  They quietly knocked out the guards as they made their way in. Red Hood pointed to the door with a sign above the said "Foreman". He then kicked the door down, and they quickly subdued the two guards in the room.

"What the fuck?!" cried the foreman as Ladybug ran up and bashed his head with an ashtray.

She wrapped the string of her yo-yo around the foreman's neck. "Where is Luca Angelo?!" she yelled.

"Rat-faced Luca? Motherfucker's already minced meat by now!" the foreman laughed.

"W-what?" Ladybug stuttered, “No, you’re lying!” she yelled.  This had to be a trick, he was probably hiding somewhere, relishing in the memory of making her parents feel helpless.  She would not be so easily defeated.

"Are ya deaf? He's dead." The foreman drew a gun from his pocket and pointed it at Ladybug. A shuriken then hit the gun, knocking it away from his hand.

Ladybug tightened her grip on the wire. As she was strangling the man her hands shook as rage consumed her. The man gasped and struggled for air, but she held it tight. “Please” he croaked, “have mercy.” 

“Why should I show you any? My parents were shown none!” Ladybug growled, baring her teeth. She pulled the string tighter, as if she was garroting the man. She pictured how her parents had suffered, her mother’s cries for mercy echoed in her mind. 

“Please...I..have..a..daughter.” The foreman barely managed to speak, he tried to paw at the wire with his hands but it wouldn’t budge.  Ladybug paused, she looked at her reflection in the window. She had seen what she had become. 

Shame and guilt filled her as the man became limp. She let go of her yo-yo, and released the man.  She brought her hands to her mouth as she stumbled back in fear and guilt. What would Tikki, Alya and her parents feel if they knew she had blood on her hands? Her breathing became more rapid as panic set in. 

Red Hood calmly walked over, placed two fingers on his neck. “He ain’t dead.” he commented. Ladybug ran, tears streaking down her cheeks. Red Hood didn’t follow, he knew she needed time alone to think. He hoped what she saw was enough to give her closure. He tried to be optimistic that Ladybug would not walk the path of vengeance, but he wasn’t known for his optimism.  Roy would have known what to say to her, but thinking of Roy at all made his heart sink. 

Ladybug ran, she had no clue where she was or where she was going, she just needed to be alone. She didn’t know how long or how far she had traveled, she just found a secluded rooftop. “Spots off” she muttered, Tikki didn’t say a word as she looked up at her.  They sat on the edge of the roof, watching Gotham at night. They both sat in absolute silence, as Marinette came to terms with the tempest of thoughts, guilt and anger that stirred in her mind.  She wondered if she could bring herself to use the Ladybug Miraculous again? If she could trust herself not to lash out at innocent people? A part of her began to question if she was even fit to be Guardian of the Miraculous?

“I almost killed an innocent man,” Marinette croaked, tears welled up in her eyes. “I don't know what to do Tikki, the man who killed Maman and Papa is already dead. It still hurts.” she cried harder. 

Tikkie floated in front of Marinette’s face. Marinette didn’t even try to look at her through the sheen of tears in her eyes, “Marinette, I know, everyone needs time to grieve and move on.” Tikki told her, trying her best to comfort her.

“How, how can I move on? What should I do now? Go to Shanghai and live there?”  Marinette asked.

“Maybe I can help,” came a voice from behind. Tikki zoomed straight to Marinette’s pocket and hid in there. The figure walked up to her and took a seat beside her on the edge of the roof. 

The man wore a leather jacket, looked like he was a few years older than her, and he held a takeaway bag with him. She was about to ask who he was until she recognised that distinctive white streak of hair. Her eyes widened as he handed her the bag. 

“Go on, dig in,” he said, pushing the bag towards her. She apprehensively took the bag from him until the scent of freshly baked bread hit her nose. “I had a friend make those for you, he’s an amazing chef and baker.” he told her, “Don’t eat his waffles though, they taste like paste.”

Marinette gave a small chuckle at his joke, “Thank you” she quietly said. She opened and tearfully ate the baked goods. They were just as good as her father’s baking. 

“There’s not much left for you in Paris, and I know you don’t want to go to Shanghai. Why don’t you stay here in Gotham?” He asked. 

Marinette paused to think, she had no plans on what to do after she had her revenge. She had just spiraled into obsession. He was right, she had nothing left in Paris, and Shanghai would be a struggle to start all over. 

“I know you’re underage, why don’t I be your Guardian until you’re 18?” He suggested, “Then you can swing away and do whatever you want.”  Jason thought she could do a lot worse for a Guardian, besides, Batman and Catwoman weren’t the only ones who were allowed to take orphans under their wing.  

Marinette stayed quiet, thinking of her options. It was either Shanghai or Gotham. After a few minutes of contemplation, she nodded her head. 

“Name’s Jason, Jason Todd.” He held out his hand. 

Marinette shook his hand, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, but I guess you already knew that.” 

“You don't have to call me ‘Daddy’ unless you want to,” Jason Joked. Marinette wrinkled her nose and playfully shoved him away. For the first time since her parents died, she actually smiled. “I’m already a Guardian myself” she said, “but I always wanted an older brother.” “I have one, trust me it’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he said. They sat in silence for a long moment, “so what’s the story with you and Ladybug?” he asked. “I helped one old guy across the street, and he decided that was a good enough reason to make me a superhero.” she explained, “I had to fight against a villain who was using people’s negative emotions to control them.” “Well, good thing he hasn’t found his way here, plenty of those going around in a city like this.” he said, trying to make her feel better. “How about you?” she asked, “Were you always this big bad crime lord?” She said the last part as if it was merely a facade or the stuff of legend.  “My dad was sent to jail when I was a kid, my mom didn’t last that long after that,” he told her, “so I spent a few years living on the streets of Gotham.” “Was it always like this?” she asked, her childhood in Paris was already looking rosier by comparison. “Gotham? Almost certainly.” Jason told her, “When I was 13, I thought I’d be joining my old man in prison sooner or later, before I met the Bat himself.”  Marinette’s eyes widened, she remembered hearing Alya gush about Batman and his various sidekicks over the years.  “I thought he’d just beat me up for trying to steal the wheels off of the Batmobile, instead he gave me a hot meal and a place to call home.” he told her.  “You’re looking at the second Robin,” he said. Judging by the sad smile he had on his face, Marinette could tell this story didn’t have a happy ending.  “So, what happened?” she asked cautiously, he took a deep breath as he tried to find the words.  On the one hand, the last thing he wanted, the last thing anyone needed, was this girl making the same stupid mistakes that he did.  On the other hand, she had been through enough, it would have to be a story for another time. “That’s a story for another day,” he decided “but I promise you, one day I’ll tell it.” Marinette looked down at the city streets before her, it was a far cry from Paris, but maybe one day she would come to see it as home. Batman watched the two of them from a distance and smiled slightly.  Maybe this girl would keep Jason from going too far down the treacherous path he was on, much like Tim had done all those years ago after he lost Jason.  Only time will tell if that proved to be true, but for now he was pleased to see the two of them getting along.  He grappled away, leaving the two of them to talk, laugh and joke with each other.

[its-karma-bitches-00]

ENDGAME

Chapter 4: Back to you.

Description: So... I know many Daminette fans don't like Damian being younger than Marinette so 🚨SPoiler AleRT 🚨 Damian is gonna be younger for a while but an event happens that gets their ages exchanged. (Sort of)

Warning; swearing, angst, fluff.

Summary: Where the world reunites with their loved ones..

Previously

"They're back!, They're back!, They're back!" Maps yelled excitedly, almost jumping at him

"Who's back?!"

"The people who disappeared 5 years ago!"

Damian blinked at the short girl in front of him before narrowing his eyes at her "this is no time to play games Mizoguchi."

"I'm not!" Mia huffed "ask anyone else."

Damian looked at her and he knew she wasn't lying, he gave her a small nod before heading back towards the washrooms.

"Wait!" Mia yelled, holding his wrist "Can you drop me to Olive house?"

"No." Damian deadpanned

"Can I at least have your grapple gun?"

"No" Damian sighed "Sorry Maps, I've gotta go"

Mia nodded "fine. you owe me a waffle bar!"

Damian rolled his eyes at her before running back, wasting no time. "Plagg! Claws out!"

"Aw come on!" Plagg hissed, before disappearing into the ring.

***

Damian ran across roof tops, he felt sick. Where they really there? how did they disappear? What if he went home and found out nobody was actually there? what was he going to to say? So many Questions jumped around his head, but he kept moving either way. He jumped over the large compound of his house calling out "Plagg claws in!" His black and green suit dissolved and was replaced with his uniform. He landed on the soft grass smoothly Before running around large fountain in front of his destination.

Damian panted, looking around. Jason's new bike was spread on the ground carelessly, and the car was literally half-hazardously parked.

He ran towards the large doors shoving it open...

to meet his family laughing and crying in Joy.

They were here. They were all here. Dick, Cass, Steph, Alfred, Selina, Kate, Chloe and Marinette.

Damian could only stare, They looked like they never aged a day, except Alfred who seemed to look younger.

"Damian?" Dick asked, a shocked look on his face which quickly dissolved into a bright smile "Oh my god you look so big!" He yelled, tackling him to the ground "Did you miss me?"

"TT, of course not."

"Liar" Tim laughed with tear stained cheeks "he cried everyday for two years."

"I didn't!" Damian hissed, still in the embrace of his older brother. "Uh-huh, sure." Bruce smiled his arms around Selina

"Father!"

"Wait, wait, wait." Chloe interrupted "what do you mean two years? We've just been gone for like, five minutes"

"Yeah! What's with that?" Steph asked in confusion

"You guys have been Gone for 5 years" Tikki said slowly while the others were nodding in agreement

"That's impossible, I was definitely there for 15 hours"

"It felt like five minutes for me" Chloe said as Cass nodded

"You guys sure you didn't hit your heads on your way back?" Jason joked

"Do you remember where you guys were?" Bruce asked

"Yes" Marinette nodded "It was-It was beautiful, it felt like you were in the middle of the universe without any care and so many different colors were there. Just like stars and galaxies"

"The quantum realm!" Fluff exclaimed "of course! Why didn't I think of that?!"

"What's a quantum realm?"

"The Quantum Zone, the realm where all the energy of the universe come from, and the Microverse, which consists of many different sub-atomic dimensions all accessible through the same means as they are in the Marvel Cinematic Universe." Fluff thought out loud

Jason blinked in confusion "I didn't understand a single shit."

"Language" Alfred warned.

"The Quantum Realm is a dimension that can be entered from Earth by compressing a human's mass to a certain point. Entering the Quantum Realm could potentially cause the person who enters it to shrink forever. Due to the nature of the realm, time passes differently and is more fluid. As a result, with the right equipment, the Quantum Realm can be used for time travel though its impossible to change one's own timeline when traveling into the past in such a manner." Fluff continued

"Still don't get it" Jason shrugged

"You would if you were smarter." Damian snorted

"In a simpler way...A person needs to be really tiny to enter the quantum realm and time passes differently for each person" Tim explained

"Ohhhhh, I get it now!"

"So you're telling we've been stuck in time?" Kate asked

Fluff nodded "except for Alfred, who seemed to travel back in time." which made chaos rise.

"You're telling me we've been missing for five years?!"

"Wait so technically I'm the oldest" Jason laughed evilly

"No you're not! I'm still a year older than you!" Dick smirked

Damian almost gave out a smile, until he noticed Marinette sitting silently on the ground staring at her hands. He crawled towards her, out of Dicks grip and sat next to the girl muttering a small "hey"

"Hi" Marinette mumbled back, glancing at him.

"What's wrong?"

"I-it just seems so unreal, five years? That's like my teenage life. Tim's all grown up! How old is he? 22? and-"

"Hey! hey! Calm down, it's fine. if it helps you feel better, You can always taunt them on how young you are."

"-And you've grown up all tall and muscular and pretty-"

"Pretty?" Damian asked, his face turning red.

"The world has obviously changed! I don't know how you lived without Alfred or Me and Selina because you guys don't know a shit about cooking, and why didn't our miraculouses fade away with us? I could've done something to come back earlier"

"Stop it!" He said grabbing her shoulders "you've done the best you could And what really matters is that you're home"

"Oh and you've gotten soft." She gave him a teary smile before Pouncing on him, giving him a bear hug.

He wrapped his arms around her small body, rocking her back and forth questioning "Do you really think I'm Muscular and pretty"

"No!" Marinette squeaked quickly as she pulled away from their hug "I'm just really tired, and floating in space is really exhausting"

"Mm-hmm, sure" he smiled pecking her cheek, which made Marinette melt on the insides "you hungry?"

"Do you even know how to cook?" Marinette asked

"Hey, we learnt a thing or two when you guys disappeared." Damian chuckled, pulling Marinette to her feet while looking at his brothers questioningly, who were busy wrestling on the couch "You idiots need anything from the kitchen?"

"Yesss" Dick grinned "I want cereal."

"Noodles please!"

"Same here!"

                                                           ...

So how was the it ?....

Okkkk, I know it was pretty lame and all, The only reason I posted this was because I've had this draft for some time and I didn't have the heart to delete it because that would mean I only wasted my time. Soooooo I posted it. Kill me. My dignity is dead, I've got nothin to lose.

But if you guys want another chap... just ask ����... and please comment and vote!

😊✨♥️

Byeeeeeeeeeee

This was taken from my Wattpad account

@Aquaqueen2020

[salparadiselost]

Hiii!!! I love your demon AU so much. I was wondering if you could possibly write a snippet of an AU where police officer!Dick saves some demons or something as a police officer and he knows how to handle them and uses mimicked demon behavior to calm them and all his colleagues are like "where did you learn that? whaaat are you doing" and he gets to gush about his baby brothers and sister who are all demons?

Sure thing! I love Dick could be a good police officer and help to make a difference in bridging the gap between species.

———

Dick knew that Jason hated him living in Bludhaven. He knew that Jason hated the fact that he was a cop and was putting his life on the line without the protection of a pack or a cape.

But there were some things that Dick needed to do without Jason’s approval.

Surprisingly, Bruce had been the one to understand that the most and helped Dick present his case to Jason.

The demon wasn’t happy, but he relented under the pressure of Head and the Head’s second.

Dick only stayed in Blud four days a week, returning back for long weekends in order to help feed the Incubi and settled pack bonds that got ruffled without one of their own. It was an easy schedule because the drive to Blud wasn’t that bad and Dick was more than grateful for the extra Friday to spend with his baby brothers.

That didn’t stop Jason from grumpily glaring like an affronted cat every time Dick packed his suitcase to return to Blud after his usual 3-day weekend at the Manor, though.

The Incubus was the worst mother hen out of all of them even if he vehemently denied it.

Dick sighed leaning back against the leather of the patrol car, idly watching as cars passed by. He chuckled as speeders suddenly pressed on the brakes in an attempt to pretend they weren’t just going 15 over. Dick wasn’t in the mood to actually pull one over and entertained himself with the panicking drivers.

The radio crackled and Dick listened as another officer spoke into the channel.

"Attention code 45 on East Street. Back up requested."

45... that was...

Feral demon. The highly dangerous kind.

Or, at least the cop who called it in thought the person was highly dangerous.

Dick jolted in his street, scrambling for his radio. "This is Officer Grayson. I'm on my way."

He pulled onto the street, turned on his sirens, and raced to the location.

His tires screeched when pulled up next to an alleyway that already had two other cop cars parked next to it. The lights were flashing and made the alleyway be bathed in bursts of red and blue.

He was too fucking late. He wanted to be the first one here to stop the damage before it could be dealt.

He flung open the door and rushed into the alleyway where four other officers were already huddled around was what he assumed was a demon. Hands were on guns, muscles were tense and there was a low, angry hissing filling the air.

"Grayson, good thing you're here. We have a pretty nasty one."

Dick bristled at hearing the demon get called a "nasty one". They were probably terrified, growling and snarling because they were cornered and outnumbered.

"Species?"

"A Succubus and an Alectos."

There were two of them? Dick only heard the hissing of one.

Dick broke through the group of other officers, shoving his way to the front, and stopped.

The Succubus was crouched on the group, half shoved behind a dumpster and hissing with all the fury her small body could manage. She couldn't be older than Damian, probably only 12 or 13. She hadn't grown enough to get a full, deep growl of an adult demon.

Behind her, a tiny impling shivered and whined in fright. He looked up with his multicolour eyes that constantly shifted hue in the light. He was so young that it hurt Dick's heart. The imp had only tiny nubs for horns, and clung on to the older demon fiercely.

The familiarity meant that they were probably siblings. Maybe adopted. Maybe with one child taking after their Mother and another taking after their Father.

They were definitely pack and the Succubus acted just as any demon would act to a packmate being threatened.

Dick could easily imagine Jason acting the exact same way, making himself as terrifying as possible to protect his implings.

But Jason, a full-grown Incubus with fangs and claws and snarl that could shake bone, was actually terror-inducing.

This Succubus with her high-pitched and stuttering snarl and her adorable baby brother peering over her shoulder, just looked heartbreaking and scared.

"Everyone get back," Dick ordered, sweeping an arm out. "I can handle this."

"Grayson..."

"I can," he snapped, "My siblings are demons. I know how to handle them."

The officer stepped back and Dick heaved a breath before walking forward.

The Succubus's eyes instantly snapped on to him and her growling became more panicked. Dick felt her desperately try to grapple with his emotions and bend them to her will, but her attempts were amateur. Dick was used to sparring with Jason, a highly trained demon who could wield his abilities like a knife, and he was more than capable of shutting down the Succubus's emotion grabbing.

He didn't let her manipulate his emotions, but he did open them, letting her know that he was safe and meant no harm.

"Hi," he said as he watched the Succubus taste his emotions. Some of the tension in her muscles began to ease and she tilted her head in confusion. Humans wouldn't normally know how to portray their emotions purposefully to a Succubus.

"I'm Dick. I'm not going to hurt you."

Her eyes flickered to the officers behind him.

"They want to take my brother," she said, her voice gravelly with a growl. "They want to take me."

An officer stepped forward, her face scowling. "We just want to bring them to the CPS. They shouldn't be out here alone."

Dick agreed, but he knew better than anyone that CPS could be just as dangerous as living on the streets from a young Succubus and an impling.

The Succubus stiffened and horror flashed on her face. Her eyes flickered between Dick and the other officers. She tried to snarl, flashing her fangs at them even as her eyes looked terrified.

"I won't let you take him. I won't."

Dick could see the situation quickly getting out of hand. The Succubus was slowly growing more frantic, the officers were getting tenser because of it. Dick needed to de-escalate.

So he shoved himself in front of the Succubus, breaking her eye contact with imposing officers, and he chuffed.

The Succubus startled at the sound, eye-widening and locking on to him.

Humans didn't chuff. They didn't know what chuffing meant, that it was supposed to call implings and let them know an older, protective demon was there.

But most humans didn't have demon brothers that constantly needed corralling and cuddling to feed.

The Alectos impling was the first to respond, chirping towards Dick and instinctively answering back to what he perceived as an older demon.

The Succubus was slower, but eventually, also let her growling die down and also chirped to Dick.

Dick gave them both his almost-purr and spoke calmly.

"I'm going to help you. You won't be separated. I can get you somewhere safe."

"But, trafficking..."

"I know and I know somewhere you can go where they won't touch you."

The Succubus blinked and Dick slow blinked back, finally easing the last of the tension in her muscles.

"How do you know?"

Dick gave her a soft smile and let her have a peek at the bright packbonds in his chest.

Her eyes widened in shock and she looked at him in a new light. "You have a pack."

"Yes, two of my brothers are Incubi, one is a Luciferean and my sister is a Wraith."

"And you're a human?"

"Yes, and so is our Head of pack."

She wrinkled her nose and it was the first time that she looked like a proper, innocent impling instead of a scared, out-of-her-mind kid.

"That's weird."

Dick laughed and offered her a hand so she could stand up. She hesitantly took it. The impling at her side chirped again and nuzzled into her.

"Yeah, I guess it is pretty weird, but I still love them."

Dick walked with the Succubus, motioning the other officers away and guiding her into the back of his police car. When they were settled, Dick heard her begin to purr for her baby brother and groom the dirt away from his face.

Dick couldn't help but smile to himself as he called to one of the Wayne Enterprises-sponsored demon shelters and told them he was bringing the siblings.

He couldn't save every demon he came across, but it brightened something hopeful in his heart whenever he could help just one.

He dropped the siblings at the shelter, relaxing as they finally got to somewhere safe. There were far too few places that were safe for a demon.

And as he watched the siblings retreat into the shelter, he ached for his own pack and his own siblings. He had the sudden fierce urge to chuff, even though the implings weren't there to hear him.

Maybe he could leave for Gotham a little early? Bruce certainly wouldn't mind having Dick drop by unexpectedly.

Dick pulled his cop car back into the Bludhaven street and tugged at his bonds. Everyone in his family tugged back.

[the-alice-of-hearts]

Kids again Ch 1

AO3 Next>

Ch 1: She likes to drink her coffee black

Summary:

Soulmates come in twos; At least they usually did

98% of the world's population has a soulmate bond. Of those, 80% have platonic bonds. Only .2% of all soul bonds connected more than two people.

Having three soulmates is exactly the kind of cosmic joke the universe would play on a True Wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous. If it gives a boy who still had a lot of life to live a second chance, well that is still in Creation's domain, now isn't it?

Marinette loved the boy in her heart, and the other two links were twisted around each other in a way only romantic pairs could be. If only she could have loved him enough to save him /||\ Jason wanted, more than anything, to protect the girl who his heart belonged to; protect her from the harness of the world, and then from what he had become.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves here, let's start at the beginning.

Ch 1: She likes to drink her coffee black

The first time Jason looked into his Soulmate’s life she was happy. Whoever she was, she seemed happy. The first strong emotion that he got from her was pure bliss and a sense of major accomplishment. The first time he got to see through her eyes he was eight years old. She was rushing out the door waving goodbye to smiling parents, a thermos in one hand and a cute pink backpack in the other. He cherished this memory like no other. There were other strong emotions from the bond, most of them were similar. She was happy and seemed strong. After that, Jason tried not to let his emotions overwhelm him; he didn’t want the girl with the happy laugh and the pink backpack to see where he was.

He knew he didn’t do as good a job as he tried. The feeling of worry in his heart that he knew came from her told him so. He could feel when she worried about him not eating enough, so he tried not to go to bed hungry too often. He could feel when she would panic because she hadn’t felt anything from him for too long. He would go and listen to the musicians playing on the streets; trying desperately to feel as happy as he could for her.

When he had gotten stabbed defending another kid from a man with a knife, he wasn’t sure if his panic was his own or hers. He felt like he was watching someone die though, so he was pretty sure it was her panic feeding into his own pain. He made sure to take care of himself so that she didn’t think he had died.

This went on for a long time; him looking in and seeing small bits of her life and later try to send good things back as much as he could. He figured out she was from Paris when the Eiffel Tower was in so many of the small glimpses he saw. So, he stole an English to French dictionary. He then found a bookstore, he could steal from it pretty easily, that had a copy of a book filled with his favourite fairy tales in French. He learned French, then he took it as his language elective. Slowly, he started to understand what she was saying in his visions of her. She had a small number of friends, but they were pretty close. She still worried about him far too often, but he noticed that on days where she was worried she would go out of her way to be as happy as possible. It was like she was trying to make him warm from the inside. And on those days, when was cold and hungry and desperate for a safe place to sleep, he would hold on to her happiness and promise himself that he would be happy for her tomorrow.

When he became Robin he was worried about her finding out. What if Bruce made him stop being Robin? For this reason, he stayed quiet about his Soulmate. Most bonds were platonic anyways, so he just didn’t mention that his bond was romantic.

He hoped she would at least get to see happier emotions from him. He knew that she had to have seen some of where he grew up, but he wanted to believe that maybe she would now get to see these happier moments. Jason vowed to live every happy moment to its fullest.

He hoped she got to see Alfred teaching him to cook, and him learning how to bake all her favourite pastries. He hoped she saw Dick teaching him gymnastics, seeing all the times he fell but got back up. He wanted her to see him and Dick goofing off and the times they would go sneak off behind Bruce’s back when he told them not to skip patrol to do just that and get ice cream in the suits. He hoped she saw him and Bruce sitting in the library reading, the two of them watching movies together when he was too sick to patrol. He wanted her to see that he had a family that loved him now. He hoped that she wouldn’t worry about him so much anymore; that he wouldn’t be a burden on her anymore.

He thought he had hidden this from his new family, but somehow Alfred always knew everything. Jason almost panicked when Alfred broached the conversation while he was teaching Jason to make macarons

“Does your Soulmate have a favourite flavor, Master Jason?”

“I- uh,” he tried to come up with a way to deny it, but knew that he would never get something past Alfred. Still he tried, “What do you mean?”

Alfred smiled, not looking away from measuring the ingredients. “Growing up, my best friend had a Soulmate that grew up in a troubled home. He told me he knew when she was in a better place because she started pouring emotions into everything she did so that he could feel, as well as see, that she was safe.” Alfred turned back to the cabinet looking at their ingredients. “I just thought that you seemed to be doing something similar. I apologize if I misread the situation.”

Jason stood there thinking for a moment. He looked around and listened to make sure Bruce wasn’t about to walk into the kitchen. He moved closer to Alfred so he could whisper, ”Her name is Marinette. I heard one of her friends call her Netté, though.” When Alfred didn’t stop him from talking he kept going. “She likes matcha ones best, but she always tells her mom that she likes strawberry ones because they're less work.”

That was all that was said. They finished making the cookies and Alfred packaged them up for him to have in his room. Jason was pretty sure that Alfred knew he was hoarding food, but so long as no one stopped him and probably even if they did he would keep doing it. Living on the streets taught him that a next meal isn’t guaranteed, and even if it was unlikely he would ever go hungry under Alfred’s watchful eyes, he still wanted a back up plan if he needed to make a break for it.

The next time someone asked about her was about a year later on a stakeout in Blüdhaven with Dick. Bruce had gotten scared when Jason got hurt and wouldn’t let him patrol in Gotham until his injuries had completely healed. Jason got antsy and ran away to crash on Dick’s couch until Bruce let up on the restriction.

Dick had just sat down next to him on the building they were on. “Hey, Little Wing”

Jason turned to him. “Yeah?”

“Do you ever try to send your soulmate messages?”

Jason’s throat closed up in terror. Dick kept talking as though he hadn’t noticed Jason tensing up and planning an escape route. “It’s just, sometimes I see what he’s seeing and I don’t know how to tell him that I want to look out for him, ya know? And his dad is kinda distant, but his mom loves him a lot. I don’t know though, because sometimes I can feel dread coming from my soul link but without any glimpses into what he’s seeing. Alfred thought maybe I have a platonic soulmate that is experiencing dread. Lately I’ve only had happy and joyful feelings so I’m worried that if I do have a platonic soulmate that maybe something bad happened to them. I have no idea how I would be able to send a message to a platonic soulmate though, so I wondered if maybe you knew?”

Jason had slowly gotten more confused while listening to his brother. He hadn’t considered the possibility of having more than one soulmate. “Wait, you mean you can have more than one Soulmate? I thought Soulmates were pairs?”

Dick shrugged. “My parents explained it being more like pieces of the same picture. Most bonds are platonic and platonic bonds are more likely to be someone who you grew up near, so you would have similar experiences with similar emotional responses. That’s why people don’t always notice them, but when you have a romantic bond that you can actually see through each other's eyes, you notice, yeah?”

Jason nodded. “So you have a romantic Soulmate, but think you also have a platonic bond?”

Dick ran a hand through his hair staring out at the windows they were watching, “Yeah, I don’t know how to describe it though. Honestly, I’m pretty sure I have three soulmates. The third is a lot quieter though. My mom laughed once and told me maybe it wasn’t that I had three soulmates, but that my soulmates had another link to each other.”

“Does that happen?”

“I don’t think so, but the stories about that happening are more fairy tale than concrete evidence. I like to think I have three though. I hope that, whoever my platonic bond is, they have their own romantic bond they can lean on. I don’t know if there is anything I can do for them unless I figure out who they are.”

Jason scoffed and then went on the alert seeing movement in the room. “We’ve finally got company.”

Dick smiled and ran back a few steps. “Wanna see me do a flip into the window?”

“Ten bucks says you don’t break the glass and fall on the ground.”

He laughed at that. “Be ready to pay up, Little Wing. I’ll get the two gunmen, then you swing in and help me with the others.”

He took a running start and jumped off the roof they had been on, doing a flip to keep his momentum up. He crashed through the glass rolling into a handspring, kicking the guns out of the two goons' hands. Jason followed using his grappling hook to get across to the now-broken window.

A short fight later and they had the men all tied up. Dick called the police with the info and then they were grappling away from the scene.

“Hey, Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“Earlier you said that you wanted to figure out who your platonic soulmate was.”

Dick landed on top of the building his apartment was in, then looked at him. “Yeah. I just want to know if I can help them.”

Jason followed him down the fire escape, “I thought that soulmates knew when they found each other; you make it seem like that’s not how it works?”

Dick walked into his room to grab clothes. “When you only have one soulmate, there is a glow when you touch each other the first time. It’s your soul telling you it’s complete, but if you have more than one you only get that if you find all the pieces of your soul.”

“Oh.” He caught the pants Dick threw at him. “Thanks for talking to me about this. I guess there was a lot I didn’t know.”

They crashed on the couch to play video games and eat leftovers. The conversation hung heavy in the air, though. Jason felt like, if he talked first, he would tell Dick everything, but, if Dick had had a romantic Soulmate this whole time, then Bruce had to know about it.

He looked up at his brother from where he was laying with his legs over the side of the couch. “Does Bruce know you have a romantic Soulmate?”

Dick looked down at him from where he was perched on the back of the couch. “Yeah? Why?”

Jason shot Dick's character while he wasn’t paying attention, trying to make him stop looking at him like that. He mulled over the question while avoiding the looks Dick was still giving him during his respawn times. In a small voice he finally answered, “He didn’t make you stop being Robin?”

That made Dick pause the game. He dropped down to sit on the cushion of the couch, leaning his head over Jason to look him in the eyes. “Jason, Alfred would never let Bruce use one of us having a Soulmate as a reason to kick us out of the suit.”

Jason pushed him back so he could sit up. Turning to look at him, he took a deep breath. “He kicked me out of the suit for being hurt. He fired you and sent you here. Why would having a Soulmate be any different?”

Dick reached out and hugged Jason. He felt Dick’s shirt becoming wet from tears he hadn’t realized he was crying. “Oh, baby bird, no, that’s not gonna happen, and if Bruce tries it, then you have a place here. You did really good back there, I would love to have your help anytime.”

Jason sniffled and wrapped his arms around Dick. “What if he tries to make you send me back?”

Dick was still rubbing circles on his back, talking soothingly. “Bruce can’t make me do anything. My bank account has Alfred as my responsible party, and Clark is the name on the lease. If you want to stay here you can, and no one gets to take my brother away from me okay?” Jason nodded, still sniffling but getting his tears under control. “Now enough sad talk. How about I kick your ass in this game and tomorrow I’ll take you to the gym I use and help you with your flips.”

Jason laughed wholeheartedly at that. Sitting up and discreetly wiping his tears, he grabbed his controller again. “Don’t know why you keep trying. You’re not gonna win at this any more than I’m gonna be able to do a backhandspring tomorrow.”

And that was it.

Bruce either didn’t know about his romantic Soulmate, or he really didn’t care. Jason started keeping a journal of written notes about her. He wanted to be able to find her one day, so he needed to know everything he could.

An incomplete list of things I know about my soulmate

Her name is Marinette

Her friends also call her Netté or Mari

She drinks a lot of coffee, usually black. She grabs it on the way to class. Is that a french thing? I feel like I only ever see her with coffee? That can’t be right, maybe it’s from the all-nighters? Her friends have teased her about not sleeping before. Is that more often than I think?

She ignores her own needs to help her friends

She’s like a year younger than me I think.

Her nonna (grandmother?) calls her Marinetta or Little Fairy (could I call her Pixie?)

Lives in Paris

She has an Asian mother; Chinese?

She has an Asian name, but I don’t remember it. Her parents use it but not often enough for me to write it down

Her father is French-Italian

She is in gymnastics, but can be clumsy

Kim, Nino, and Alix are her friends.

Chloe used to be her friend. She doesn’t know what changed things

She likes to draw

She wants to be a clothing designer

She made me something? I couldn’t see what it was, but her mom was really proud of her accomplishment.

She is a really good baker

She likes matcha macarons best; but she never asks for them. She feels guilty about her parents making them just for her

She can lift a giant bag of sugar like it weighs nothing

She likes to help people

She likes pink

She is nice and good. At least I think so.

The list was in a small red notebook. It stayed with him all the time; that way whenever something happened, he could write down any details. He filled the other pages of the book with things he wanted to tell his Soulmate, small bits of his life that he wanted to share with her. He had a spot in his utility belt for it to be, and a pocket in his jacket that he kept it in. He had once shown Dick the list and the pages that he had written about him and Alfred. He smiled when Dick showed him his own similar notebook. Dick’s romantic Soulmate was also from Paris; they both wondered if their Soulmates knew each other.

Jason liked to think so

[toosicktoocare]

prompt:  Yay it's finally letting me ask you! I'm wondering if you could do anything with sick Jason? that'd be awesome. thank you for taking the time to read this :). and also, you're easily my favorite author, and I love you so much. thank you for all you do <3 - anon

prompt:  Hey there. Could you do anything, like literally anything with sick!Jason? - @lettheseabirdscry

“Is everyone in position?”

Tim spares a glance down to see Damian crouched behind a large trash bin, the Robin’s starting position for the recon mission Bruce called all of the bats too, but when bringing his gaze back to the rooftop across from him, it’s empty.

“Hood’s not here,” Tim informs with a frown, unable to shake this nagging feeling that something’s wrong.

“Unsurprising,” Damian scoffs into the comms, his flat tone clashing with Bruce’s deep sigh.

“Robin,” Dick warns over the comms. “One sec; I’ll call him.”

Tim waits, staring hard at the empty spot across from him as if expecting Jason to just manifest before his very eyes, to just stretch through reality’s fabric with some quip about being fashionably late.

“Damn. No answer. Oracle, can we get a ping on his location?”

“He’s probably out becoming intoxicated with Harper.”

Tim doesn’t need to see Damian’s face to know the pull of muted disgust twisting at his lips.

“Arsenal’s out of town,” Barbara mutters flatly in the comm. “And Hood’s phone tracker is showing he’s in his apartment. I can’t get much of a read on anything else. Looks like he finally cashed in on his word that he was going to rig his security systems to block us out.”

“We should move forward with the mission without him.”

Tim considers nudging a loose brick over the ledge of the roof, right above Damian. “He said he’d be here.” Tim knows Jason is a lot of things; he knows that Jason thrives off of disappointing his family, but he’s not one to go back on his word, not with something like this.

“Maybe something came up in Crime Alley? He did say he’d meet us after patrol.”

Tim can hear the worry hidden behind Dick’s easy tone, and he assumes Dick’s carefully redistributing his concern, spreading it out evenly so he doesn’t lose his cool.

“Huh,” Barbara mutters absently into the comms. “His phone tracker says he’s been in his apartment all day.”

“Maybe he left his phone in his apartment?”

“I don’t know. I’ve pulled security camera feeds from Crime Alley, hitting all the locations he frequents, and... well, nothing. Not a single sight of him all day.”

Tim stands fully, narrowly scanning his surroundings for any sign of Jason. He can’t shake the uneasy pull at his chest, and though he’s not physically close to the others, he assumes the feeling’s mutual based on the silence that follows.

“B, I don’t like this. He promised me he’d be here.”

Dick’s no longer working to hide his concern, and that just heightens Tim’s anxiety that something isn’t right. He tries to puzzle together and explanation based on the four times he’s seen Jason this week: twice in Crime Alley on patrol, once two days ago at the Bat Cave, and yesterday walking out of a convenience store. He can’t recall anything out of the ordinary, but Jason’s closed off, more so thanks to the lingering pull of the Lazarus Pit, so normal, outward, physical appearances mean little to nothing.

“Can we delay the recon?” Tim asks. “I’m only ten minutes from his apartment. I can go check and see if he’s there.”

“I don’t want you to go alone.”

“B,” Tim fights back with a groan. “You and Nightwing are thirty minutes out from my location. I can be there and back before you even get here.”

“Take Robin,” Dick says, and Tim has to fight back the unconscious need to sigh loudly. “I know you’re capable, Red, but humor me. You two are stronger together.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

Damian’s voice is bleeding annoyance, and for once, Tim can agree with how he’s feeling.

“No,” Bruce mutters, sounding almost distracted. “Hood has made many enemies since coming back to Gotham, and you have no idea what you are walking into. You both go, and you both come back immediately if he’s not there.”

“Keep the line open, and stay in contact, Little Wings.”

Tim rolls his eyes and grapple hooks off the building, landing near Damian. “Okay,” he mutters into the comm, and Damian only scoffs at him and starts off toward Jason’s apartment, leaving Tim to catch up.

***

“You’re going to hack his security system?”

“Yes?” Tim frowns at Damian. “How else are we going to get in?” He starts tapping at a keypad outside of Jason’s apartment door.

“Knocking?”

“Tried that once,” Tim mutters, mind half-focused on the conversation and half-focused on working around Jason’s security. “Almost got shot.”

“You what?” Dick’s voice is alarmed in Tim’s ear, but he disregards it. 

“And you think breaking and entering won’t get us shot?”

Tim shrugs, working around the final code until he hears multiple locks click open. “Don’t get hit,” he mutters, slowly opening the door. He tenses to alert, and he can see Damian match his stance at his side.

They step inside, quietly and carefully, and though Tim’s been here before, he’ll never not be mutely surprised at how domestic the entire place is. There are books stacked on a small coffee table. A blanket’s draped across the couch, and the TV’s on with the sound muted. The lights are on in his living room, kitchen, and bathroom.

Tim glances at Damian, sharing a silent conversation before they begin their quick, quiet search. Tim starts to the kitchen while Damian pads silently down the hall.

The kitchen’s a mess. Dishes are piled high in the sink and are littering the small kitchen table. There’s a bag on a counter, the same bag Tim remembers seeing Jason walk out of the convenience store with. He moves to it, looking to see various medicines tipped over in the bag. Frowning, he makes to pick one up, but then he hears a very loud gun shot accompanied by a very uncharacteristic curse.

“Damian!” Tim drops the bag and whips out of the kitchen to the bedroom, ripping his domino off as he walks in to see Jason shakily propping himself up on one elbow in bed with an even shakier hand aiming a gun at Damian.

“Jason, stop! It’s just us!”

“Was that a gun shot?”

Tim ignores Dick’s frantic question in his ear, instead edging around the room, eyes searching over Damian in the dark. “Were you hit?”

“Of course not,” Damian spits out, stepping forward toward the barrel of the gun and ripping it from Jason’s hand. He clicks the safety and drops the gun to the floor, and then he’s tugging a glove off and slapping a hard hand to Jason’s forehead, interrupting Jason’s deep, wet coughing.

Damian clicks his tongue, a frowm sharp on his face. “You’re burning up.”

Jason weakly slaps Damian’s hand away, staring a look filled to the brim with sharp daggers between the two, stopping on Tim.

“Did you break into my fucking apartment? Again?”

“Tim, what the hell is going on?”

Ignoring Dick once more, Tim reaches around to hit the light switch on the wall, frowning when Jason winces hard.

“You didn’t show up for the recon,” Tim supplies, his stomach twisting at the sight of Jason, of the angry red splotches coloring his otherwise pale cheeks, the sweat shining on his forehead, the inconsistent shivers wracking his broad frame. He studies the way Jason’s face twists around his words.

“That’s because it’s Thursday.”

Tim’s heart clashes with worry, and he and Damian share a glance. He’s surprised to see Damian sporting a similar look of muted concern.

“Jay, it’s Friday.”

“No, it ain’t,” Jason grumbles, hand slapping around on his bed until he finds his phone.

Tim watches as Jason’s face falls.

“Oh.” Jason spares a glance through his messages, unable to read much because his headache is making it hard to concentrate. He looks up from his phone, turning to see a rubber bullet lodged into the wall beside Damian’s head. “Did I hit you?”

“No,” Damian mutters, frowning. He slips around the room, pausing by Tim on his way out. “I’m going to talk with Father and Grayson. You should get a read on his fever.”

Nodding, Tim waits until he can hear Damian’s quick talking with Dick and Bruce before he moves to Jason’s bathroom to find a thermometer, snagging a traditional, under the tongue, mercury one before making his way back to Jason’s room.

“How long have you been sick?”

“How did you hack into my security systems again?”

Tim sighs, cocks his head to the side. “Do you really have to ask?”

“Fuck,” is all Jason replies with, and he takes the thermometer Tim hands him and slips it under his tongue.

“Three minutes,” Tim says, ignoring the sharp look Jason shoots him. “You know they make thermometers now that will tell you your temperature in seconds, right? Why the hell do you have this old thing?”

“Alfred left it a few months ago.”

“No talking,” Tim points out, and Jason glares hard under glassy eyes.

“Then stop asking me fucking questions.”

Tim’s mouth snaps shut, and once he counts to the 180th second, he leans forward and snags the thermometer from Jason’s lips, studying the 102.4 degree reading, equating it with Jason’s other, apparent symptoms.

“Have you been around anyone who’s had the flu recently?”

“I don’t have the flu,” Jason mutters despite the chesty coughs that rip up his throat. “Just a cold.”

Tim takes a step back and crosses his arms. “High fever, coughing, chills, I imagine you have a headache based on the wince when I turned on the lights, and you probably have a sore throat since your voice is physically hurting my ears.”

“What? Are you a doctor now?”

“No, I’m just not an idiot,” Tim spits back, and Jason only grunts and flops back against his pillow, tugging his blanket up with a hiss.

“Give me a minute, and I’ll suit up.”

Tim... does not expect that, and he’s about to scold Jason in a way he’s sure would make Dick proud when Damian slips back into the room.

“Father called Clark. They are pulling in backup for the recon.”

“Well, why’d he go and do something stupid like that?”

Tim rips his eyes from Damian back to Jason to see Jason shuffling around his room for his suit.

“Jason, what the hell?” Tim spits out, moving to Jason’s side when Jason starts to sway. “Sit down.” He nudges Jason back toward the bed, but Jason, despite how sick he is, fights against him.

“We have a recon, don’t we?” He turns to Damian and barks out a cough. “Demon, call B and tell him we’re coming.”

“Todd, you’re too sick. You’d just hold us back.”

Tim takes the distraction to lightly shove Jason back onto the bed.

“I think I’d rather have Dick here,” Jason groans, coughing harshly into his pillow. “At least he has good bedside manner.”

“He and father are already on their way.”

“Fantastic,” Jason growls, curling in on himself and coughing harshly.

Tim moves to pull the blankets up over Jason’s shivering frame, stopping when Damian’s hand wraps around his wrist. “Let me go, Dami.”

“No. I have very specific instructions to relocate you away from Todd.”

“What the hell? Why?” Tim digs his heels into the floor when Damian pulls on his wrist, but he stumbles forward when Jason lazily kicks him in the back of the leg.

“No spleen, idiot. Get the fuck outta here.”

“I’m fine,” Tim tries, but Damian’s grip is hard enough to bruise, so he relents with a loud sigh. “Jesus, fine...” He rips his hand free and stalks to the door. “Get him medicine and make sure he doesn’t die.”

***

The deep inhale of nicotine burns Jason’s lungs and brings forth a chesty round of coughing that hurts. He absently rubs at his chest, shivering, and takes in another puff of his cigarette, and then another, desperately repeating this action to chase away the edge of angered anxiety that comes when he’s near Bruce. He leans over the balcony with another shiver, watching his shaking exhale cloud before him.

He hears the balcony door open, but the footsteps are too light to be Bruce’s. They are also too determined to be Tim’s, and too deliberate to be Damian’s. He doesn’t look back when a blanket is draped over his shoulders, and he only scoffs quietly when Dick plucks the cigarette from his fingers and drops it over the side of the balcony.

“You would still smoke when you have the flu.”

Jason doesn’t reply, not finding the energy for a snarky retort. “What have you all been doing out there?” he asks instead, tugging the blanket tighter around him to fend off the chills.

“Damian’s cleaned your kitchen, and now he’s reorganizing your movie collection. Tim started reading one of your books, but he fell asleep. And Bruce has been staring at your bedroom door as if willing you to run out and give him a big, bear hug.”

Jason huffs out a laugh that quickly morphs into deep coughs. He can feel Dick’s hand on his back as he coughs into his shoulder.

“And you?”

“Oh, I’m alternating between Candy Crush and Words with Friends with Barbara. She’s kicking my ass.”

Jason smiles, tired but genuine, feeling the anxiety flutter off with Dick’s presence. “How long til you all get the fuck out?”

“I don’t think Bruce is going to leave until he’s sure you are okay. Not sure that we can wake Tim right now, and Damian won’t leave until Bruce does.”

“And you?” Jason repeats, and Dick cocks his head to the side with an easy smile.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to stay.”

Humming, Jason shivers again, and he allows Dick to guide him back into his room and to his bed. Dick carefully tucks him in, and Jason’s too tired and too feverish to mind.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps out suddenly, and Dick’s hands freeze, and he frowns.

“For what?”

“I promised I would show up.”

“Hey, Jay, it’s okay. I’m just glad you’re safe.” Dick brushes the back of his hand against Jason’s forehead, a sympathetic hum slipping up his throat at the heat. “No more smoke breaks until you’re better. You’re still burning up.”

“You’re saying you’ll support my chain smoking when I’m all better?” Jason bats his eyelashes, and Dick sighs and stands, swatting at Jason’s covered leg.

“Don’t twist my words. I’m going to toss all your cigarette packs out.”

Jason growls lightly, a few coughs mixing with it, and he curls onto his side, wishing the stupid medicine Damian forced into him would kick in a lot faster. “You have until 99,” he mutters to Dick, who’s already filling a small trash bin with cigarette packs.

“What?”

“99,” Jason repeats with a harsh cough that hurts his chest. “When my temp hits 99, I want you all out.” There’s no heat to his tone, and he struggles against the fatigue pulling against him.

“99,” Dick clarifies with a soft smile. “You got it, Jaybird.”

[bigskydreaming]

Is it true that gymnasts can't work much when they're 30+ ? Is it like an Olympic gymnast thing or just stuntwork in general? I saw some people concerned over Dick's back causing him problems as he gets older. But then a lot of martial art guys like Donny Yen, Jet Lee are still pretty flexible aren't they?

I see this a lot in fandom too, anon, and as often happens, lol, I myself cater to the ‘fandom’s got it backwards’ take.

Fandom specifically focuses on Dick’s body giving out early on in life compared to the rest, due to acrobatics being ‘his niche’ but in reality - or as close to it as we can come in a universe that tbh really demands suspension of disbelief over the fact that any and all of the Batfam take as much punishment as they endure.....

Thing is, Dick is actually one of the family most likely to have the LONGEST longevity of physical fitness.

This is because fandom keeps correlating Dick’s niche as gymnastics, rather than what it IS - acrobatics.

Yes, gymnastics is typically considered a ‘young person’s game.’

ON AVERAGE.

But, something to keep in mind, is that there are different TYPES of gymnastics. There’s competitive artistic gymnastics, but also rhythmic gymnastics, aerobic gymnastics, and a few others. Olympics gymnasts are primarily competitive artistic gymnastics, but even there, there are specializations so to speak. All Olympic gymnasts are usually cross-trained on the various events/categories, but the teams overall put up their best gymnasts in each category to compete in that category when possible....because for the most part, someone who excels at say, floor routines, is not going to be the most optimal choice to do the high bars or the vault. That’s because floor routines emphasize more rhythmic gymnastics, whereas something like the vault is more in the arena of a power gymnast.

And these different areas of focus put different kinds of strains on the body.

So yes, while its true that a lot of gymnasts retire early and the Olympic teams as a whole tend to see their gymnasts exiting the game by 30 at the latest......the latter is because those gymnasts are expected to be at least capable and at elite levels in ALL events, so they can compete as needed for the overall team....BUT, in the case of the former, the gymnasts that retire early completely.....those are almost universally the power gymnasts, the ones who specialize and emphasize in the hard-hitting events like the vault, the beam, the uneven bars, etc.

I say hard-hitting, because I literally mean hard-hitting. 

Because these are the high impact events. The ones that see a gymnast land with the full weight and impact of their body on their feet at the end of a successful (and exponentially force-multiplying) flip, handspring, dismount, etc. 

That kind of impact puts TREMENDOUS strain on your joints....and that, specifically, is what leads to a lot of early retirements, and a lot of early wear and tear on the body. That’s the kind of punishment that the body can only withstand at elite levels for so long.

But that’s not the only kind of gymnastics, and its definitely not the thing that Dick’s known for specifically - that’s acrobatics. And while there’s similarities and crossover, that’s another ballgame entirely.

In fact, where the similarities and crossover tend to happen is in the areas of rhythmic gymastics, aerobic gymnastics.....the kind of things that you see in events like floor routines, the rings, the parallel bars, the pommel horse.

Those gymnasts, the ones who specialize primarily in those areas of focus......they tend to retire from the OLYMPICS around the same time as the others, because again, everyone on those teams needs to be on the top of their games and CAPABLE of being pitted against the power gymnasts of other teams on events like the vault if they need to fill in in a pinch.....BUT they don’t often retire at age 30 overall.

You wanna know where a lot of them end up going after that?

Cirque de Soleil.

Dead serious, I shit you not.....a ton of elite level gymnasts after leaving gymnastics end up....essentially running away to the circus, lol. A full third of Cirque de Soleil’s performers ARE former professional gymnasts.

And a lot of them end up....acrobats.

Because after all, there is a lot of crossover in the two, in terms of feats.....but the difference, the thing that lends acrobats more longevity than most power gymnasts and the like.....is the latter endure most of the abuse to their bodies and joints....when their bodies hit the ground at the end of their feats.

Acrobats, in contrast.....are kinda focused on.....not being on the ground.

A lot of the same wear and tear simply doesn’t happen on their bodies, and allows them to perform much further into life....because there’s simply less strain in the types of aerial feats acrobatics focus on, while suspended high up off the ground.

And we see this reflected in the Batfam and their various styles of fighting and focus, which is why I say despite people focusing on Dick’s body giving out soonest, as the quote unquote athlete of the family -

(Which tbh, I kinda...eh, about, because it feels often like one of those things where people NAME him ‘the athlete of the family’ just to give him his niche without having to acknowledge him as being the equal of any of the ‘brainy ones’ in that regard like Tim or Babs or Bruce, etc.....but honestly, when was the last time you saw any significant focus put on Dick being able to do something physically that the other members of his family COULDN’T do, because they’re not ‘the athlete’? Y’know what I mean? Like, there’s a lot of MENTION of how he’s the most athletic or acrobatic or all of that.....but that never seems to hold any of the others back from doing any of the equivalent physical feats one is inclined to write them doing, or allowing them to be written as sizably less skilled as fighters in any meaningful way. So focusing on Dick as being the most specifically physically minded and oriented of the family feels a bit performative, tbh, and that puts the focus on his body being specifically vulnerable to wear and tear, moreso than the others a bit.....suspect imo. BUT I DIGRESS).

My point is, regardless of that, my take is the focus on Dick’s body giving out soonest is ironically just....completely backwards. Because actually compare his form of physicality to some of the others, and you see what I’m saying:

Bruce and Jason for instance - they’re perfectly capable of high-level gymnastic feats when necessary, but their overall approach to flips and jumps and grappling swinging and the like is to use it as a means to an end. Its always in service to getting them ON THE GROUND as quickly and efficiently as possible....where they can use their brute strength and mass and physicality to its most effectiveness, wading in to brawl hand to hand with combatants anywhere possible (excepting of course when Jason is using guns from a distance, or Bruce his Batarangs, but you get what I mean in terms of overall styles).

But THAT kind of thing....is far more the realm of the power gymnast. The kind of high impact landings and force-multiplying jumps and flips meant to just....cut straight to it. Hone in like a heat-seeking missile. Deliver the full force of them as quickly and efficiently as possible.

In contrast....Dick’s style is entirely different, and hails directly from his origins and his strengths as an acrobat. He’s NOTED for basically spending as much time IN THE AIR during a fight as possible. He soars above when possible, rather than engage up front and hand to hand. He’s more likely to leap over criminals’ heads, kicking out and navigating upwards on his way to ‘tag’ the next one in any manner he can....dodging in and out, using confusion, weaponizing evasive maneuvers, getting his opponents to get tangled up in each other’s way...that’s HIS style.

Dick deliberately keeps himself at a distance as long as possible, not out of fear but out of basic awareness of his own strengths and weaknesses and his instinctive (due to being a born and raised athlete every bit as much as Damian and Cass are born and raised fighters) drive to look after his own body and keep it maintained and honed and efficient for as long as he can - something that I don’t doubt was drilled into him by his acrobats-as-their-livelihood-family from the very first moment they began training him. 

The less he HAS to engage hand to hand, the less he HAS to land feet flat on the ground after a flip rather than using the balls of his feet to simply spring off even further and then transition into firing his grappling hook mid-air, the less he HAS to block a strike with the side of his forearm or strike someone fist to face rather than block with an escrima stick and strike with the other.....

The longer Dick’s body stays in strong enough condition to remain his most effective weapon.

And that’s not something everyone in his family can claim, or even point to as a priority of any kind.

Which is why I maintain that focusing on Dick’s body giving out young is not only a bit....eh....given they all perform equivalent levels of physicality in their vigilantism day in and day out.....its also, IMO, focusing on the wrong family members entirely. 

(Overall, personally I’d rate Dick, Tim and Cass the ones most likely to retain their physical fitness the longest based on their respective styles and how they’re typically depicted in fight scenes).

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing 83 Review

guess who isn't weeks late this time. my opinion of the series is going up a little bit. it's still not great, but i'm not actively put off by it anymore the way i was after 81. not going to tag as spoilers, but be warned that they are under the cut

i’m sure you all are well aware of this but now, but dear god i love bruno redondo’s art. like, an unhealthy amount. the pink and blue is getting to be a theme with either him or just this run, but i am definitely enjoying it. the movement in this cover is clearly obvious, but well done. you recoznize right off the bat that the cover was drawn to drag your eyes down the page until you get to the bottom, but you enjoy the whole ride there. 

also, redondo’s way of drawing a character in stages of action so we can see just how much they’re doing in a split second of movement is quickly becoming something i like to see drawn with dick, and any other character that has that sort of ease of movement and body sense, like cass or sin or maybe a super. 

and he’s in action the entire time! there’s shot drawn just to show off a shirtless comic book character, the way nightwing is so often subjected to. he’s shirtless because he’s changing his clothes, and that’s all we see, no more and no less. very practical, very well done. i like it.

he looks so cute right here oh my god. the little squint, the hair curls. it’s adorable.

but also like. unless melinda has specifically outfitted the door spyhole so that the person on the other side can’t see dick looking through it (and in all honesty she might have) then everyone on the other side can see dick looking through that door. 

bringing your attention back to the “i can’t see melinda’s fbi file oh no!! it’s redacted!! whatever can we do!!” stupidity. redacted files are child’s play for oracle, and definitely doable for both dick and bruce. so that’s bullshit.

now, melinda apparently grew up with the maroni family, then took down part of the family from the inside. the maroni family is a large and notable presence in gotham, one that bruce pays a respectable amount of attention to. he definitely would have grown suspicious when two members of the maroni family were taken down, and with some investigation, he would have discovered melinda’s plan. and it should go without saying that the majority of things you see batman doing? dick can do it too.

it’s not so much that i don’t like how clever the villains/antiheroes are getting. i don’t like how dc heroes are increasingly written as less intelligent. they seem to be relying on pure fighting skills or luck, which may be the case for a couple heroes, but has never been the case for most of dc’s big name heroes, the bat family included. it’s irritating to me to see this sort of stuff pop up as a major plot point when i know that, if dick or bruce had been written with the amount of skill and power that they canonically possess, this entire mess would have been sorted out years ago.

unrelated but dick and melinda have the same hair

this may just be me, but i was always under the impression that dick doesn’t really have a “double life???”

yes, he’s talented enough to create enough differences between robin/nightwing and dick grayson’s mannerisms, way of movement, voices, and speech patterns so that it’s very difficult to put the two together.

but nightwing has never been separate from dick grayson, not the way bruce and batman is. he’s always leaned more towards clark in that aspect: his hero persona is an exaggerated, stately, larger-than-life version of who he really is. there’s no second persona, no real “dick grayson identity” and “nightwing identity.” they’re the same person with the same goals, ideas, and skills. one just pretends to abide by the law, and one gives up pretense of that.

oh good thank god. if he’d trusted her right off the bat (hehe. bat.) i would have slapped him upside the head. at least he’s still got instincts.

gosh the colouring on this is cool. the red has enough purple and pink tones to it that it doesn’t abruptly ruin the tone of the artwork. but it’s definitely glaring enough to take the reader outside of this personal moment they had slipped into between dick and melinda, to put them back in the present where they’re reminded that oh yea there are people hunting dick down. 

the next panel keeps this up too, in a less severe way. melinda’s bodyguard shows up (i forgot her name sorry :[ ) and subtly places us in the middle of an action scene rather than a private, personal scene.

laughing so fucking hard have our little vigilantes grown so accustomed to breaking into places that it doesn’t even register as a crime anymore??? tim coming in through the fire escape to pick bernard up for their date and being very much confused as to why bernard is freaking out.

i really like melinda’s shirt and now despite all the work i have to do and the fucking conference i have to host on monday i want to spend hours scrolling through clothing shops online trying to find this shirt. the mock neck/neckline is so cool i want it

so roland just assumes that a very dangerous vigilante who is highly talented in combat and a very dangerous bodyguard who is also highly talented in combat had a fight that ended with this very dangerous bodyguard being tied up and she looks completely fine? roland just assumes that her having no visible wounds or bruises means that they got into a fight and she lost that easily? uh. aight then

dick what are you doing. legitimately what the fuck are you doing. why are you posing oh my god. you are injured and tired and in absolutely no position to go hand to hand with one of main enemies. jesus christ run away or head to lower ground or something. don’t just stand around letting the floodlights show exactly where you are.

i don’t understand what he’s trying to do here??? blockbuster fully bought the story that dick fought them both, won, tried to get info out of them and failed, then hightailed it out of there. he didn’t have to draw roland out for a fight.

but it does look cool. the way the light just highlights his silhouette and the blue parts of his costume does look badass. he does get style points in my book for this.

w h a t  d i d  i  f u c k i n g  t e l l  y o u ,  d i c k ?

very classic superhero line and it does sound like something dick would say in a fit of righteous rage but also it makes me laugh so hard because all vigilantes think they’re so powerful that the law doesn’t apply to them. dick vigilantism is illegal. you’re acting above the law and pretending it doesn’t apply to you. hypocritical much?

it happens so often in superhero movies, tv shows, comics, whatever and it makes me giggle every damn time.

pretty decent comeback but before i start seeing people writing blockbuster as a thug i’m going to remind you that he made a deal with a demon for genius level intellect. if this turns into another bane situation i’m going to be a little miffed. he’s a smart man, which makes him a dangerous and infinitely more interesting enemy for nightwing.

this is so horribly in character i want to scream. (or. at least. it lines up with one of the versions of nightwing i have in my head.) he’s running right towards the bullets, miraculously doesn’t get shot, while making a sort-of pun. i hate this so much. i love him.

this is cool. this art is really really cool.

he leaped from a building right towards a helicopter that’s actively shooting at him, but none of the bullets are touching him. none of the corruption of the city can touch him no matter how hard it tries, because he’s too good to be corrupted. Comic Book Logic Can Be Good Sometimes Actually.

batman’s belt what??? swiss army knife who?? sorry, i only know nightwing’s bright blue escrima.

this is one of my favourite things about heroes with exceptional abilities, even more so if the hero is human. the things they can do are so far beyond the realm of normal human abilities that it’s equal parts terrifying and awe-inspiring every time they act.

he just used modified grappling wires to hook to the door of a moving helicopter, swung around the helicopter safely without hitting the blades, gained exactly the right momentum to swing upward again right through the opening of helicopter, then fought and tied up the men before they had any idea what was happening. that’s near impossible to do.

it’s stuff like this where i just sort of sigh in contentment. no matter how many times they leave out dick’s detective skills or conveniently forget that he’s actually a master planner and team leader and make him out to be this forgetful dude who makes everything up on the fly because of his “circus roots,” at least they won’t ever take away dick’s sheer physical ability honed to perfection. 

the art, too! in a few panels, dick’s drawn a little lightened or blurred. he’s moving so quickly and fighting so efficiently that he can barely be seen by the enemy. he’s got perfect form all the way through.

and THIS!

there was a helicopter that had five men shooting at him with what looks like machine guns. most people would be dead. some would run away, and be nimble enough to survive without fatal hits. there are very few people, even in fucking comic books, who can look at that hopeless situation and turn it around so quickly and thoroughly that he benefits from it instead.

i just. love nightwing.

it was funny the first time as a comic reader aware of the meme. it’s really not anymore. why the hell would you, in universe, be wearing a shirt that has a picture of your boyfriend being hit in the face by his father. 

okay that was funny. 

look at lil bitewing, so concerned for her human!!! love her sm. 

also a question as to the timeline of things. is nightwing happening before or after urban legends? 

i was so distracted by dick wearing a robe and briefs and nothing else that i didn’t register the second part until later. he slept for two days?? babs, baby, he recently had a very traumatic brain injury. why do you sound so nonchalant?

@TIM X COFFEE SHIPPERS GET FUCCCCKKKKEEDDDDD

ngl i totally forgot about that dude oops

this comic is giving so many reaction pictures. you know how you always use the worst possible picture of your friend for your friend’s contact picture? i’m just getting so many of these.

leslie!!! the titans!!! lucius!!! dick going to go see old friends!!!! the titans!!! this part made me so irrationally happy it really did. gar being the one to just. offer dick solutions with open arms. this was the best

i wish i could just copy and paste this entire scene, but that would take up way too much space, so i’m just going to talk about it instead. 

you gave me my name, nightwing, and you gave me some of the best advice i’ve received in my life: beautiful little throwback to nightwing’s origin. you’d be surprised at the amount of people who don’t know where the name came from, or who don’t know how much clark means to dick. and the fact that dick still looks up to clark as a hero, recognizes that clark isn’t always perfect and yet continues to hold him in such high esteem, and still looks back on advice that clark gave him fondly just warmed my heart so much.

for a man who has fearlessly stood up to darkseid, bruce will do a lot to avoid a conversation: “grrr. i’m the BATMAN. i’m so DARK and MYSTERIOUS. nobody knows the true me. no one ever will. i will be LONELY for the rest of my CURSED LIFE. such is the price of a hero. ignore my farmer himbo husband in the background”

but i don’t think there’s anything heroic about being a billionaire: another nod to how much dick follows clark’s example rather than bruce. yes, this was a very poignant and important criticism, and i think it’s wonderful that this was published in a pretty popular comic book. but the thing is, there is a way to be a heroic billionaire, but only in fictional universes. the way bruce, ollie, t’challa only ever use their wealth to help people. they donate massive amounts of money to charities that they themselves create so they know exactly how the money is being used. they hire people who aren’t likely to get jobs anywhere else and pay them much more than what a base living wage is. they use their power to help push progressive laws and social change. they are helping. 

dick doesn’t fully see it that way. he spent more than half his childhood the son of a billionaire, but still believes that one could be more heroic when one doesn’t have obscene amounts of wealth. whose example do you think he followed to come to that conclusion?

superman looked up to alfred pennyworth?: i mean yea alfred may have been a wildly irresponsible guardian and one hell of an enabler but goddamn if he didn’t love his kid.

you don’t need my input. you’ve thought it all through: ooooooh this line made me grin. for so long, dick’s treated clark as a mentor and a guiding figure. he’s still seen as a kid, an up and coming, snot-nosed titan with dreams of a better world. clark still thinks of him as a kid, despite watching him grow up. but this little line was something i think dick needed sorely to hear. he doesn’t need anyone’s guiding hand on his shoulder, he doesn’t need to ask for permission. he doesn’t need clark to support him the way he did when he was a teenager. he’s all grown up now, and he doesn’t need clark’s help. i imagine it was a bit of a surprise for dick to hear that. 

honestly, i couldn’t think of a better role model: ohhh but it doesn’t stop there. clark just straight up turns the tables on dick. imagine you’re dick, and you’ve looked up to this one hero your entire life, and then one day he turns to you and says that he thinks you’re so kind and smart and worthy of a person that he wants you to mentor his son!? goes to show just how much clark trusts dick.

i swear to god dick probably cries every time he hears clark compliment him because bruce is so rare and sparing with his praise that clark giving him the slightest hint of approval is just a dopamine rush.

also, now deathstroke and superman have both asked nightwing to mentor their kids. the juxtaposition is fuckin hysterical. imagine either of their reactions when they realize what kind of company they’re with

lets talk colours for a second, because i absolutely adore how classic colour tropes have been subverted in this comic, and in this general run really.

warm tones have usually (usually, not always) been associated with light and comfort and friendship and,,,,,well,,,warmth. whereas cool tones are usually used to unsettle, or make a scene seem colder and put the reader on edge. this varies if a comic only uses cool tones, or only uses warm tones, but if a comic uses both, this is generally well-used.

that isn’t the case in this run.

dark red, orange, and other warm tones have been used to symbolize danger, action, attacks. hot pink isn’t usually included in this colour group, but it’s definitely part of it in this case. in contrast, scenes that have cool colours give us the impression of slipping into a comfortable, calm scene with babs, tim, the titans, and other allies. even the beginning scene with superman has this blue, but then it transitions into something more golden coloured. dawn broke over dick, as his new idea came to light, and that was reflected in the art (and the sunrise setting.)

have there ever been times when dick’s longed for the comfort of his mask because he didn’t feel confident as dick grayson? i can’t think of any. i may be wrong, but this struck me as pretty ooc.

am i just??? gay and reading this all wrong??

cause i was under the impression that when someone says they are grateful for your friendship you don’t immediately kiss them. 

or is this like. normal straight mating rituals.

i mean he’s smiling afterward but still babs aren’t you supposed to at least make sure it’s okay first? you guys broke up a while back after you said something along the lines of “i want to be coworkers with you and nothing more because i don’t trust you or feel comfortable around you as a civilian anymore.” like lmao after you say something like that to someone i would assume that you don’t have the permission to just kiss them whenever you want.

show of hands who else got real sad when they realized dick was talking about himself in this.

sure, he could be referencing the things he’s seen blockbuster pull, and the children on the streets. but “i’ve seen money used for enforcement,” sounds a little too close to dick’s entire life being destroyed by one man threatening the circus to pay protection money for me to completely ignore. and “i’ve seen the poorest and most vulnerable blamed and punished rather than assisted” becomes a lot worse when you remember dick was thrown in juvie for a couple months until bruce was able to obtain legal guardianship, and in there, not a authority figure believed him when he told them his parents were murdered.

he’s lived this before.

a. mother. fucking. typo.

fucking why

i mean i’ve stated my distaste for the batfamily groupchat before but like. this is reaching new levels of ridiculousness. jason sounds like he was written by a fanfic writer. tim sounds like he was written by a fanfic writer. steph sounds like she was written by someone who doesn’t know the first thing about steph and wanted to include her for “family points!!!!!” damian’s supposed to be completely off the grid, and everyone’s searching for him. i do love the way cass texts tho.

well god fuck now i’m crying

dick got a phone call, a sorry, and a thank you out of bruce. i feel so much secondhand happiness for him, if that’s a thing. we’ll just ignore the way bruce looks ugly af and focus on the good parts okay?

and again with the colour symbolism here!

i’m either going to love this or hate this. who knows, we’ll see.

something something hearts something something pink is an evil colour something something. i need to know more about this guy but there’s definitely symbolism there. 

is it just me or does this dude look like the backstabbing traitorous absolutely motherfucking piece of shit villain that killed tadashi hamada in big hero 6?

~~

taggggg list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan  @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @bikoncon @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption​ @capricorn-stark​ @batshit-birds​ @comics-observer @buticaaba​ 

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 5

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Fine if meeting them didn’t give them a clue maybe this will.

First < Previous > Next

------

“So Tim said you have a lot of siblings?” Marion asks Dick as they walk down the hall, he chuckles.

“You could say that, we aren’t all blood, but we’re still family,” He guides them down the stairs, the elevator not being large enough for the whole class.

“Doesn’t matter to us,” Marinette chimes in, “We’re adopted too, we never met our birth parents,”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Marion hums, “I don’t think Aunt Selina is actually related to Papa either,”

“People always say that we look like her though,” Marinette smiles, “Although they do say the same about Maman,”

“I’m sure you’ll fit right in with us, you’ve got the whole black hair, blue eyes going for you,” Dick jokes, as they reach the end of the stairwell, “On this floor we have some of our publicity team who manage the image for Wayne enterprises and the Wayne family,”

“It’s still kinda rude for him to ignore you,” Alya was clearly unaware of her own hypocrisy. Dick ignores them in turn and carries on.

“Bruce was just surprised, I didn’t want to interrupt,” Lila explains, clearly not having heard any of the conversation between the newly acquainted cousins.

“Hopefully you get some time with them, if the twins don’t hog it all,” Sabrina glare can be felt.

“I’m sure once the shock runs out they’ll have plenty of spare time to catch up,” Lila gloats, “I have known the Waynes a lot longer, the twins are just strangers,”

“You two do seem pretty strange to me,” Dick whispers teasingly, before speaking out to the rest of the group.

“You have no idea,” Marion glances at his satchel carrying two small gods.

“-I’ll talk to them,” Kim speaks up, speeding up to reach the twins. Lila having said something in the five seconds they weren’t paying attention that caused him to take action.

He walks over to them, to his credit only hesitating slightly under Kagami’s glare.

“Hey, you should know Lila’s pretty upset you didn’t let Bruce say hello,” Kim whispers to him, even though everyone could hear. Marion stops and turns to him.

“Kim, if Bruce wanted to say hello he would have,” Not that Bruce would have, “In case you didn’t notice we were talking with Dick most the time,”

“I just think you should back off, Lila doesn’t get to see the Waynes often,” Kim frowns, glancing back at Lila who was playing her part, looking distraught.

Marion tries not to smirk, thinking; ‘Clearly not as she can’t recognise one right in front of her’

“Kim you know we don’t get to see our Aunt often,” Marion scolds, Kim flinches probably at reminder they were childhood friends, “Mr Wayne can invite whoever he wants, he could be literally anyone, I don’t care, I just want to spend time with my Aunt,”

Marion leaves the shocked Kim behind, he rejoins his sister and friends.

“The idiot doesn't talk to you for weeks but comes running the second Lila beckons, ridiculous,” Chloe is glaring back at the boy who is talking to Lila now, as her frown grows.

“Maybe he’s telling her to back off?” Marinette rubs comforting circles on Marion’s shoulder.

“I doubt it, he’s pissed at me for some reason,” Marion shrugs, Marinette takes the hint and drops her hand with one last pat.

“Probably Lila related,” Adrien says sadly, as Kim rubs his head sheepishly with a quiet laugh.

“Can’t completely blame her,” Marion speaks the most unlikely words, “You guys know how we are with plans,”

“A true friend would not betray you for a few cancellations,” Kagami fumes, as they walk through an office area with a view looking down at the street below, “Adrien and I also have similar situations,”

“That’s right, I’m the only one in this group with any sense of punctuality,” Chloe boasts teasingly, Dick doesn’t interrupt them.

“You were once an hour late for a picnic cause you were doing your hair,” Marion snickers.

“Did you see my hair that day?” Chloe gestures to her hair, “Worth it,”

“It was-”

Kagami was cut off by the loud shattering of glass. Everyone ducked as glass spilled everywhere, shouting or screaming. Marion drops into a defensive stance, Marinette, Kagami, Chloe and even Dick doing the same. Marion watches as a figure lands on a desk with a grunt, an employee hiding underneath it. Marion's eyes go wide as he watches Red Hood- the Red Hood trying to push himself up. His totally-not-fanboying is cut off when a villain he doesn't recognise jumps through the broken window. Marion watches as the villain takes slow purposeful strides towards Red Hood, glass crunching underneath his boots. Marion ignores Dick as he tries to herd the class out of the room, most employees already making their way to the emergency exits. Minus the one who was trapped underneath Red Hood.

“Well Hood, seems I’ve got you,” The villain looms over him, taking aim.

Marion sprints into action, using his momentum to tackle the villain. Sending him off balance, bullet hitting the opposite wall. First order of business; the gun.

“What the-get off,” The villain aims the gun at Marion, the angle making it hard as Marion is standing on the opposite side.

As he turns Marion holds on tighter lifting his feet off the ground. Putting the villain off balance again and keeping Marion out of reach. Marion uses the hesitation to slip behind him, vaulting onto the villains shoulders. He wraps his legs around the villains neck

“You little-” Both arms come up out of instinct to get him off.

Marion grabs the arm with the gun, holding it with both of his. Pointing the gun up to the ceiling. A punch connects with his side, the impact muted by the bullet proof armour he wears underneath. Marion looks behind them, judging if the space is big enough to pull him down without hitting the desks. He also looks further back, making sure no one would be in the path of gunfire. Deeming that both are clear he leans back, making the villain shout as he loses balance, sending them both down. Marion falls as safely as possible in his position.

They hit the ground with a grunt. The villain loses all the air in his lungs because of the impact. Marion doesn’t risk losing his grip on the villain to disarm him. He keeps his hold as steady as possible as the villain starts to struggle. The punches to his side start to give a dull ache, the angel making the blows less powerful at least. Great, this was usually the part where Ladybug would swoop in. In light of any magical Ladybugs marion squeezes his legs tighter, trying to make the villain pass out. The villain starts firing his gun blindly, Marion flinches at the sound, far too close to his ear. Making him realise just how close the gun was to his head, he closes his eyes and turns away instinctually. He braces for another blow but it doesn't come, then the shooting stops.

“Fuck,” The villian shouts, Marion opens his eyes turning his head towards the gun. He sees the heel of a boot pressing down into the villain's wrist. The grip on the gun goes lax and the boot kicks it away.

Marion follows the leg up to see Red Hood standing over them. The angle making him seem much larger, casting a shadow over Marion. The expressionless mask staring right down at him. Marion gulped, yeah that might be slightly intimidating

“Sorry,” Red Hood grunts, pulling the villains arm at an unnatural angel making him yelp.“Getting thrown through a window ain't fun,”

“Tell me about it,” Marion knows exactly how that feels, as Chat Noir, and this guy is just a human. How quickly did he get back up? It couldn't have been over a minute in the scheme of things. And oh wow he was still standing over him and Marion was having a hard time keeping his eyes on his face or rather helmet.

“I think he’s out,” Red Hood says with a slightly amused tone.

Marion jolts, not having even noticed how the villain stopped struggling. He relaxes his grip cautiously, ready to hold back on if he starts moving.

“Pass me that arm,” Red Hood says, taking out a pair handcuffs snapping them around the wrist he was already holding.

Marion just keeps staring until Red Hood starts to just reach down. He startles, thrusting the limp arm into his hand and scrambling up, trying not to blush. Red hood secures the villains wrists before dropping them. He steps to the side and pushes the villain out of the way.

“Are you ok?” Red Hood crouches down to ask, Marion stares dumbly, “What's your name? Where are you?”

“.... Marion…. Wayne Tower….” Marion falters a little(a lot) star struck, before realising why he’s asking, “I don’t have a concussion! I’m fine really!”

Red Hood nods, standing back up. He reaches out an arm to help Marion up. Marion wants to take his hand, he really does, but his arms don’t seem to be moving. He’d probably just trip over anyway. Red Hood lets his arm drop once its clear Marion won’t be responding anytime soon. Instead he reaches down and throws the unconscious villain over his shoulder.

“I’m sure you’re going to get plenty of lectures on how stupid that was,” Marion cringes at the harsh tone “So… thanks…. that was really brave,”

Marion is left to internally combust as Red Hood swings out the window with a grappling hook.

“Marion! Mari! Are you ok,” Marinette rushes to him, followed by the rest of the class.

“What just happened?” Marion is still staring at the spot Red Hood disappeared from.

“Dude, you took that guy down in seconds!” Nino exclaims, Marion fixes his glasses only the magic of the miraculous keeping them on.

“Huh, it felt longer,” Marion turns to his class to see everyone, minus Lila, looking down at him with concern.

“We need to get you checked out,” Dick helps him stand,“There's a medical bay in Wayne tower, lets go,”

Marion just nods, slowly coming to himself to realise he was very much not alright. He clutched his side that ached, armour shielding the majority of the damage didn’t mean it wasn’t hurting. His back also hurt from landing on the ground, luckily Marinette had reinforced his jacket so he knew it wasn't cut up. Apparently he had gotten away with no cuts, as he had kept his head off the ground and was wearing reinforced gloves. His ears were ringing from the gunshots, in hindsight, that hold wasn’t the best idea, but they rarely had to deal with actual guns so he was left unprepared.

They reach the medical bay, Dick trying to get his classmates and teacher to calm down the whole way. Marion didn’t answer any of their questions, knowing he had to consider his answers carefully. He made sure to pass Marinette his baton, for her to hide in her backpack. In the medical bay there were a few employees who were part of the attack getting their cuts disinfected. Marion gets a thank you from an employee who he recognises as the one trapped under the desk. Marion nods in response, being guided to a seperate room only Marinette was allowed into.

The nurse checks him over, revealing a growing bruise on his side. He seems surprised it's not worse after Marinette explains what happened, luckily he doesn’t notice anything amiss about his clothes. He also checks his back, telling him it should be fine in a day or two and if it’s not, to see a professional. Marion knows that even if something is wrong his increased healing ability from his time as the black cat would set it right.

“The ringing should wear off in a few days,” Marion knows it will stop by the end of the day, “It’s a natural symptom after loud noises,”

Marion nods and the nurse leaves him to rest, letting Marinette watch over him.

“That was reckless,” Marinette states simply, as soon as the door closes.

“Can we save the lecture for later?” He rolls over on the bed the nurse insisted he rest on.

“Marinette is right,” Tikki flies out of her purse, followed by Kaalki and Plagg. Plagg doesn't say anything just comes to sit on Marion’s chest. “Your whole class was watching,”

“I know! I just wasn't thinking!” Marion pats Plagg's head, silently telling him he’s alright.

“I don’t know,” Marinette leans back and smirks, “I think you were thinking of one thing in particular,”

“No, go back to the lecture,” Marion buries his face in the pillow.

“So how was meeting him? You seemed a little flustered,” Marinette leans her elbows on her knees and holds her face.

“Ugh, I was totally embarrassing, wasn’t I?” Marion fixes her with pleading eyes.

“Oh, definitely, you also completely ignored him trying to help you," Marion screams into the pillow,

“This seems to be an effective punishment,” Kaalki muses, zipping away with the rest of the Kwamis when someone knocks on the door.

“Come in,” Marinette calls, as Marion sits up.

“Marion Cheng-Dupain, explain yourself!” Aunt Selina bursts through the door.

“Auntie! Who I love so much, so good to see you, did I tell you that you look lovely today,” Marion shifts back as she approaches.

“Nice try, why did I get a call from Dick telling me you were in the medical wing?” She stops to stand in front of him, hands on hips.

“I assume it’s because of the villain attack,” Marion glances at the door to see Dick peek in before closing it, “But I’m not sure,”

“A villain attacked you!” Selina bellows, Marion realises its probably a good thing he can't give her their name.

“Well no. The villain attacked Red Hood, I attacked the villain before he could attack Red Hood,” Marion rambles making gestures to explain the process. Marinette gives him a flat look.

“So you thought attacking a villain unarmed was a better idea then running away?” Their Aunt looks horrified through her anger.

“Yes that would be the gist of it,” Marion agrees, Marinette face palms.

“Don’t worry I’ve already given him a lecture,” Marinette covers and Marion knows he owes her one.

“What am I going to do with you?” Their Aunt sighs rubbing her face.

“Give me a hug and ask if I'm alright?” She rolls her eyes knowing exactly what he’s trying to do, but sits down next to him anyway.

“Come here you two,” Marinette comes and sits next to her and she pulls them both in for a hug, “You’re not allowed to scare me like that ever again,”

“Ever?-ouch,” Marion yelps as Selina pinches his cheek playfully.

“You’re meant to say ‘sorry I won’t do it again’ and then be sneakier about it next time,” She scolds, as Marion rubs his cheek.

“I promise next time I decide to impulsively fight a villain you won’t find out about it,” Marion swears, making their aunt roll her eyes.

“You’re a brat,” She ruffles his hair, not that it wasn't already messy.

“I get it from you,” Marion grins, Selina sighs.

”... yes you do,” She gives him a sad little smile and they fall into a familiar silence.

This was something their Aunt did often, randomly becoming solemn and closing off for a little bit.

“Marion, Marinette are you ok?” Madame Bustier pokes her head through the door.

“Yeah, nurse said I’m fine, just a few bruises,” Marion sees her relief, "Did you call our parents?"

"Yes I called yours first, I told them you were being looked at," Madame Bustier explains, "You should call them soon,"

"We will," Marinette promises, neither looking forward to that conversation.

“Alright then, are you free to go?” Madame Bustier asks, “The rest of the tours been cancelled and the class is ready to leave,”

“I’ll take them,” Selina steps in, hugging them tighter “I’ll drop them off at the hotel later,”

“Alright then, don’t stay out too late” Madame Bustier gives them a smile, disappearing behind the door.

“She isn’t even going to ask where we’re going,” Their Aunt huffs, glaring at the door.

“Aren’t we going to dinner?” Marion asks, Marinette nodding.

“I was planning on just letting you rest without your classmates bothering you,” Their Aunt admits

“I’m fine, I want to go to dinner," Marion receives an unconvinced look from their Aunt.

"Please,” They chorus using their twin powers, that breaks her.

“Fine, fine," She relents, ruffling his hair again, Marinette's hat sparing her, "But Bruce probably needs some time to sort everything out,”

“Already handled,” Bruce walks through the door right on cue, “I must apologise for this happening to you both in my building,”

“Don’t worry about it, we’re fine,” Marinette answers for him, Marion getting tired of repeating himself.

“I watched the security footage," Bruce tells them, standing at the bed.

'right that exists' Marion thinks, 'I can practically fell Marinette scheming how to steal it', if only to immortalise his pain.

"Where did you learn to fight?” Bruce inquires, neither missing the subtle glance to Selina.

“Um, we taught ourselves, did some self defence classes,” Marinette answers, both feeling their Aunt relax against them

“Plus Aunt Selina has trained us a bit since we were kids,” Marion adds, with a teasing smile.

“Has she,” Bruce states, looking at his fiance.

“You little snitch,” Selina mocks anger, ruffling his hair with both hands now in retaliation, Marion laughs.

“If you aren’t up for dinner we can postpone to a later date,” Bruce tells him, Marion swears he can see a slight smile.

“No, no, I’m perfectly fine, I’d love to come,” Marion tries to push his Aunt away.

“If that's the case, we can go to the manor right now,” Bruce offers, the twins nod, “Just a minute, Selina?”

Selina leaves Marion's hair alone and follows Bruce out the room. Marion starts to go over the events of the last hour in his mind. Coming to a horrible realisation.

“Wait a minute… did Red Hood see me wearing his outfit!” Marion turns to Marinette.

“Oh come on, like he recognises it,” She says through her laughter.

‘He was wearing my MDC outfit’ Jason thinks excitedly to himself, having dropped the criminal off to the police.

‘He seemed scared so he probably isn’t a fan, maybe he just likes MDC’ Jason's thoughts sour, back at his shared safe house with Roy.

His phone rings. Jason is about to ignore it when he sees Alfred's name on the caller Id.

“Hello?”

“Master Jason I would like to invite you to dinner tonight,” Alfred speaks from the phone, as Jason paces around the apartment.

“What's the occasion?” Jason asks, Roy glances up from whatever he's making on the couch.

“Miss Selina’s niece and nephew are in town and it would be nice for them to meet the family,” Jason snorts.

'Family huh?' he doesn't dare say to Alfred.

“I believe you already met Marion today at Wayne Tower,” Jason pauses, recognising the name as the boy gave him when he was checking for a concussion.

“He’s Cat Woman’s nephew?” Jason whispers into the phone.

‘Makes sense his movements did seem similar to hers,’ Jason wonders if she properly trained them.

“Yes, although I doubt neither he nor Marinette are aware,” If Alfred was saying that it was probably true.

“Alright fine,” Jason agrees, drawing Roy's attention again.

“Very good Master Jason, I will see you this evening,"

"Bye," Jason hangs up shortly.

“You’re actually going to dinner?" Roy knows his relationship with the rest of the Bat's is testy at best, plus he broke Bruce's window today.

“Remember the civilian I told you about?” Jason plops down onto the couch next to him.

“The one who saved your butt? The one you haven't stopped talking about? The one who's kinda cute? nope,” Roy pops the 'p' turning back to his newest gadget.

“He’s going to be there,” Jason ignores Roy's taunting.

“Why?” Roy keeps fiddling with a gear.

“Apparently he’s Cat Woman's nephew,”

“What!" Roy drops the gadget, cursing as pieces scatter everywhere.

“I want to check on him, he seemed really out of it,” Jason ignores Roy's outburst.

“Wait so does that make you two like... adopted cousins in law or something?” Jason chuckles without any humour.

“In case you haven't noticed I haven't been Bruce's son for a long time,”

[rason-rodd]

The Night(wing) Before Christmas

Summary: Damian tries to convince Dick to come to dinner for Christmas. But duty calls and a weird surprise awaits Dick. Do you believe in Santa Claus?

Warning: No pairing. Just a family Christmas-themed OS.

Author’s note: This would certainly be the last Bat-Christmas one shot. I decided not to make it a Dick x Reader (though it was initially the plan) because I wanted to give Dick and Damian the chance to reconnect. Hope you will like it. 

Blüdhaven was never quiet. Blüdhaven was always restless. Lively. Noisy. Blüdhaven was like him. In shades of jet-black and neon-blue. Shining. Glowing. Like a beacon by the ocean.     But tonight, Blüdhaven was not blue. Blüdhaven was red. Blüdhaven was green. Blüdhaven was yellow. Blüdhaven was merry. Blüdhaven was childish. Blüdhaven was a little boy waiting for his gift in a small circus trailer, counting days and eating chocolate. Blüdhaven was getting ready for Christmas.       But Dick Grayson was not.   “You know Father still insists that you come celebrate Christmas with us at the manor this year.” Slumped on the chimney, feet hanging and swinging in the air, Damian Wayne was playing with a birdarang like a bored child waiting for action, demonstrating nonchalance and casualness that could have almost seemed natural and sincere if it hadn’t been for his little green eyes peeping at his brother’s every reactions. “I still have to think about it, Damian.”     Damian clicked his tongue and crossed his arms over his chest to sulk in silence. “Todd said he was coming.” Dick snickered at the boy’s remark – which sounded more like a reproach - finding certain amusement in seeing Damian’s childish disappointment. “So who are you going to spend Christmas with? The poor waitress you used to date?” Those last few words were enough to erase the smile on Dick’s face. “Bea and I are over, Damian. I told you, didn’t I?” Damian shrugged and jumped from his perch to come and kneel by his brother by the edge of the rooftop they were on. “She wasn’t good enough for you, anyway.” And that was a lame attempt at comforting by Damian Wayne, ladies and gents.             “Well, if I listen to you, Damian, no one is ever good enough for me. You said the same thing about Shawn when we broke up.”         “Shawn? Oh right the mediocre artist/ villain you thought you had got pregnant. Almost forgot about her. What a lousy list of conquests you have under your belt, Grayson.” Dick’s jaw clenched to prevent any hurtful commentary to come out of his mouth. There was no point in debating with Damian in that situation. Dick knew well than to take his words seriously. After all, they were just part of a clumsy technique to attract attention, not ill intentioned at all and not to be taken seriously.

Police sirens suddenly screamed in the avenue under their feet, flickering blue and red. A code of alert. A perfect way to escape Damian. “Got to go.” And without any other word, Dick leaped over the edge of the building, grapple gun in hand, ignoring his little brother yelling at him “See you next Thursday at 6.” and his classic “Grayson, you fool.” when he didn’t get an answer.

Dick wasn’t a huge fan of car chases. Though appearing as simple and routine at first sight, he found them to be the most dangerous and scariest of a superhero’s everyday (or night) missions. They needed an extreme vigilance that was hard to fully have: requiring his attention to be sharp and focused on both the criminals and the police as well as the road and especially any citizen who were unfortunate enough to be on the way. But full vigilance didn’t mean no light-hearted commentary.     “Where are you guys going with an organ recovery vehicle? The hospital is the other way. Might wanna update the GPS and reconsider the music. Last Christmas I stole you your heart would be more fitting for organs traffickers”     “Nightwing!” The driver exclaimed as his partner in crime pulled his gun from his holster to shoot him. “Yeah that’s me.  And you might wanna give me that.” Dick said as he quickly seized the gun to throw it through the car window. “Now pull over before Santa hears about what bad boys you two have been this year.”   “Screw you, punk!”   “As you wish.” Dick rolled his eyes, acting dramatically annoyed, and grabbed the wheel, taking the two men by surprise. “What are you doing?” They asked, screaming at him. “Checking the airbags.” He declared as he voluntarily led the speeding car towards a barricaded construction site knowing perfectly that there were no workers in there tonight. ”Hang on.”

The car hit the metal fence, bending it as if it was a mere piece of paper. Then it left the ground and flew right towards a hole of fresh concrete. When it landed, all the bodywork crashed like a can of tomato soup and the windows broke, leaving the two criminals screaming in fear. But their yells were brief, chocked by the airbags that suddenly inflated due to the powerful noisy impact.             “Airbags, check. MOT test, over. You may get down of the vehicle gentlemen.” Nightwing said as he opened the door. But the two men were so stunned and terrified they couldn’t move. “Or you can wait here. That’s fine as well.”

The police car who had been chasing the two men suddenly parked on the site and a couple of officers ran to the accident car, guns in hands. Among them Detective Elise Svobada, Nightwing’s own Jim Gordon except that Jim Gordon had never kissed Batman. A memory that still made Dick want to puke. “Good job, tights.”             “A compliment? Christmas makes you soft, Svoboda.” Dick smirked as he let the woman pushed the driver out of the car. “Don’t get used to it.”   “Detective, the heart must be delivered in less than 15 minutes. We won’t be there on time. Not with this traffic.” Svoboda’s partner declared, panicking and trembling like a Chihuahua.           “Damn it!” Svoboda kicked the tire of the car, angry and wondering what to do now. “Nightwing, do you think you can…” But there was no need to finish the sentence as the vigilante was already far away, swinging from building to building, the box containing the precious organ in his hand. “Thanks, kid… Nelson, call the hospital. Tell them there’s a special delivery.”

There’s nothing more gratifying than knowing you saved a life, except maybe knowing that you saved a life on Christmas. Makes you feel like some heroic caped Santa Claus in a way.           But Dick never chose to become a vigilante for gratification or fame. He never wished for a thank you or some sort of admiration. Dick chose to become a vigilante to help people, to see the smiles on their face, that glimmer of hope shining in their eyes when they thought all hope was gone. Dick chose to become a vigilante to make the world a better place.            

“That girl owes you her life.” The white-bearded doctor said as he shook Dick’s hand with a gratitude that was making the happy tears in his eyes sparkle like stars. “She doesn’t owe me anything.” And no one could doubt his sincerity. “Still what you did was very noble, boy. Thanks to you this young lady will be able to spend Christmas with her loved ones. And I hope you will as well. After all there’s nothing more important than family.”           “We’ll see about that. Merry Christmas, Doctor.” He said as he headed towards the exit. “Merry Christmas, Richard.”

Dick froze and quickly turned around, wondering if he had heard right or if it was his fatigue playing tricks on him. But the old doctor was already gone and nowhere to be seen. Did he know the Batman’s disappearance act, too? “You really need to sleep, Nightwing.” “Indeed you look awful.” The nonchalant voice of Damian Wayne suddenly made Nightwing jump. That little demon could be so stealthy sometimes. “Would not want you to look like a walking dead at dinner. We already have Todd for that.”           “How did you find me?”       “Heard the police radio. No need to be a genius to do so.” He clicked his tongue as he crossed his tiny arms over his small chest. “So you saved the mayor’s daughter. Congratulations. What now?”           “The mayor’s daughter?”   “Yes. The two criminals wanted to use her as a way to corrupt the mayor.” Dick frowned. “What? Did you really think there was some sort of organs trafficking in Blüdhaven? Hello! It’s Blüdhaven not Gotham! You know the place where you’re expected on Thursday.” Dick laughed and tousled his little brother’s hair to annoy him. “Alright, little guy. I’ll be there.”   “Thank you.” Damian sighed deeply.         “Don’t thank me. Thank Santa.” Dick corrected him, still thinking about that weird old doctor. “Don’t try to choke with some cheesy Christmas spirit.” Damian declared as he pointed his fingers at Dick who were chuckling. “Alright.” He complied, gently grabbing Damian by the arm. “Wanna go drink some hot cocoa at my place?”           “Are you sweet-talking me?” Damian glared at his brother, not really knowing how to take the offer. “Maybe.”             “Would there be marshmallows in the cup?” Dick grinned and hugged his brother. “Of course.”    

[jasonspetertodds]

character study #3: snow

warnings: hypothermia, death mention, swearing

Jason felt the giddy grin he almost always got while on patrol, tugging on his face as his chest tightened with excitement as he grappled to the warehouse roof. He could feel his body relax while he was soaring through the air, cold wind rushing against his face as he flew. He never got tired of it and he didn’t think he ever would. It served as a nice distraction against the chilly December air.

It was his first patrol alone, at least in a while, as Robin. And underneath the thrill of being Robin, Jason could feel the distinct, overwhelming, almost suffocating sense of dread. It wasn’t like he couldn’t handle himself, he had proven himself time and time again, it was just that the cold never harbored particularly good memories for him. Maybe it was because he could taste the impending snow on the air the second he had gotten into the city, maybe it was past trauma. It was probably both.

He landed on the roof, instinctively shifting his weight forward as he snapped his grapple back in place on his utility belt. He skirted around the perimeter, trying to find a good way to get in without giving his position away. There were three large skylights centered in the middle of the roof, but Jason was a little wary to dive head first into a scenario where he didn’t know what was waiting for him on the other side.

He shivered, tugging his cape around him in an effort to keep some warmth in as he edged closer one of the skylights, seeing if he could discern what was going on below him. He had tracked one of Mr. Freeze’s goons to the warehouse, but he wasn’t going to go in swinging when he didn’t know the stakes. Instead, he opted to stay back and observe for a bit, even if it was getting colder. Jason wasn’t aware that Mr. Freeze was operating out of Gotham again and he was willing to bet that neither did Bruce. He didn’t want to call for backup unless he absolutely needed it.

He crouched down, closer to ground to hopefully gain a better vantage point, but also to shield himself from the wind that occasionally would pick up every now and then. Jason could feel his nose turning bright red as he gazed down into the belly of the warehouse, watching the men below him move copious amounts of crates. He frowned, bringing the fabric of his cape up to his nose as he huddled a closer under it.

He sat still and watched for about an hour before he rocked back on his heels, contemplating if he should wait and tell Bruce about what he had found and come back a different night or if he should just jump down and let the whole thing be over with. He scrunched but his nose, feeling the resistance against his domino. He really didn’t want to spend another night out in the cold observing them. That would drag up memories that Jason didn’t really want to contend with and it brought up the issue that Freeze would have more time to do harm. He stood up, once more circling the skylights, getting different angles as he checked the anatomy of the inside of the warehouse and counted the men inside, just so he wouldn’t have any surprises.

He barely registered the soft scuffing of someone landing on the roof, behind him. He turned to look at Nightwing, eyes narrowing in suspicion under the white lenses of his mask before he titled his head to the side. A silent question. While he and Dick’s relationship had gotten significantly better over the course of the last year, Jason was still a little weary of the older boy. For more than one reason, too.

Nightwing grinned, wide enough that his dimples were showing as he strolled over to where Jason was standing, “Hey, Little Wing.”

Jason’s heart gave little flutter at the affectionate nickname, viciously trying to squash the warm sensation down in his chest upon hearing the term. He narrowed his eyes even more. His brother wasn’t phased by this, instead continuing on as if he couldn’t sense Jason’s suspicion rolling off of him in waves, “Patrol has been pretty boring so I wanted to see if you were doing anything interesting.”

“And,” He said, smiling, never faltering as he looked through the skylights, “It looks like you have!”

Jason rolled his eyes behind his mask, turning his attention away from his mildly annoying older brother, noting that every man had an ankle strap. No matter how tailored the suit was, Jason could always see the slight bulge of the butt of the gun disrupting the fabric. It was something he had picked up on the street. It was a nice way to be able to see who was an undercover cop. He said as much to Nightwing, who took that as a nonofficial invitation into the mission. He nodded, though Jason could see his eyebrows come together by the movement of his mask. Wisely, the older boy decided not to comment on how Jason knew that particular detail.

“How many?”

“Twelve,” Jason supplied, going to stand next to Nightwing. He wasn’t really annoyed with the help, though while he hadn’t asked for it, it was still nice to have. Bruce tried his best to drill it into Jason that anyone in the family would be glad to help him with anything he needed, no matter how small. He was always weary of the offer, especially in the first few months at the manor. He was starting, if only a little bit, to believe them.

“You know what’s in the crates?”

Jason shook his head, responding, “No idea. None of them have been open enough for me to see what was inside.”

Nightwing nodded solemnly next to him, hand stroking his cheek as he thought. Jason rocked on his tiptoes for a second, trying to keep himself from shivering. He really wanted to get this moving. If he focused too much on the cold seeping into his skin, he could see flashes of some of the people he had known on the street dozing off when it was snowing and then never waking up behind his eyes. Memories of curling up in a less cold bolt hole and hoping he would make it through the night as his teeth would chatter and he would shiver violently.

He shook his head free of those thoughts as he looked expectantly at his older brother, he titled his head to the side and let a cheeky smile crawl onto his face, “What do you say, N? Think we can take them?”

The older boy’s smile brightened as he made a move to the opposite side of Jason before he replied, “Oh, absolutely. On three?”

He nodded, placing his boot on the glass as the other vigilante counted down, “One...”

Jason crouched down, flipping his cape behind him, feeling the adrenaline already start to pump through his veins as he eagerly looked down into the glass, making sure no one had spotted them yet.

“Two...”

Jason tensed all his muscles at the same time, waiting.

“Three!”

With a crash, they were rapidly descending into the room with a sea of shattered glass raining down around them. Jason came up out of his roll swinging, hitting the first goon square in the jaw. He heard the older vigilante take down two others, the crack of his escrima sticks against their bones rattling around his skull. Jason jumped, kicking another square in the chest before he could reach down and grab his gun. They had the small advantage of surprise when they first dropped down, but it was going to be harder now that the henchmen were recovering from their shock. Jason backed up, assessing the four pairs still in front of him.

He could see Nightwing out of the corner of his eye, backing up to cover his back too as he broke at least five more bones between two more lackeys. Jason, for a brief moment, found himself a little jealous of his brother. Dick Grayson wasn’t a particularly tall or large man, but he was significantly taller and stronger than Jason. The younger boy would kill for that advantage. That was okay, though, he reminded himself. Jason had other strengths. Jason was smart.

Jason rushed, sliding under one of their legs and tugging loose his gun, effectively putting one man between two others while he discharged the magazine, throwing the cartridge to one side, behind the crates. He then swung again, breaking another jaw as the man fell to the floor. Jason made quick work of breaking both of his arms before moving to his next victim.

“How we doing, Robin?”

Jason didn’t even bat an eye as he took down another two, before he felt something in the air shift. He hadn’t even had time to respond. His eyes snapped up to his brother’s, seeing the older boy’s expression harden as Mr. Freeze entered the picture. He was up on the highest catwalk, looking down at the chaos below, the most unamused expression on his face.  Jason sneered. He wasn’t too impressed by the villain, either. All the henchmen were down, either unconscious or in too much pain to fight back. It was just them and Freeze.

“Bats.” He sneered, hand going to the lift up his freeze ray. Freeze gun? Jason thought. He shook his head. It didn’t matter. He saw a flash of blue and black in his peripheral and he made a move to follow Nightwing up the rafters, yellow cape trailing behind him as he flipped and jumped up to the catwalk where Freeze was standing. They both flipped over the railing at the same time, feet landing on the cool iron in synchronized dull thunks. Jason titled his head to the side, observing Freeze, he could feel a stray back curl flop over his forehead. He knew better than to think that they had him cornered.

Jason thought it might be the wise decision to wait for his older brother to make the first move. He did not want to get hit with that stupid fucking gun.

“Freeze.” Nightwing greeted cordially.

Jason shivered behind the villain, suddenly struck with the cool downdraft from the ceiling and the cold that was being emitted from Freeze’s cryo-suit. Cryocrypt, Jason thought. He resisted every urge to once again wrap his cape around him for warmth and hindering his reaction time. He felt the other vigilante’s gaze on him and it took everything Jason had to stand resolute, completely stone faced. He was not going to let his older brother know how much he hated the cold and the snow. Instead, he took notice of the fact that Mr. Freeze’s suit had a soft backing to them at the bend of the knee, probably to allow for better movement. It was a weakness that probably ought to be exploited, especially since it seemed no one had brought it to his attention yet.

Jason sneered, knowing it would be difficult to land a hit there. Nightwing certainly couldn’t with the large pressurized cylinder on his back and the heavy tubing that wrapped around the villain’s back and legs. He took a second to realize how strong Victor Fries must actually be in order to lug all of that equipment around on him. Jason knew he didn’t exactly have a choice, because without it he would die, but the boy was a little in awe at the fact that Freeze could stand the weight of his armored suit and still sprint if he needed to. The younger boy shook his head, freeing his head of the thoughts. What was important was Jason could land a hit there and at the very least bring him to his knees.

Interesting.

“Shall we skip the niceties, I’m growing very bored of this conversation,” Freeze drawled in a heavy eastern European accent, twirling his gun carelessly in his hand. Nightwing smiled a calculated, casual smile, before replying easily, “That works for me.”

Wing jumped the second he had finished his sentence, but Freeze had anticipated it, knocking the bird away. He recovered rather gracefully, perching himself on the wrought iron railing of the walkway before trying again. In the meantime, Jason had taken that as his queue. He rotated once in the air, cape flying out behind him as he landed a solid blow on Freeze’s chest. Jason pushed away the fact that he could feel the coolness seeping out of the man’s suit through his steel toed boot. Dick followed suit, attacking again and hitting him in the ribs as Jason rotated around him, covering for his brother.

They worked in tandem, making sure to keep the man before them occupied enough so he didn’t have the time, nor the room to effectively utilize his gun while giving the other a break. It wasn’t until Jason was behind Freeze again, sweating and fatigued, did he decide it was time to finally end the fight. Nightwing, whether consciously or not, circled around the blue skinned man, positioning him just so in front of the catwalk. Jason took his opportunity.

With a startled cry, he watched as the rogue crumpled, arms grasping at the railing before Jason kicked him again, this time on the lower back. He was knocked off balance as the boy watched him slip between the bars, plummeting to the concrete floor of the warehouse. Jason didn’t even have to think as he shot his grapple line out, catching it around his ankles and securing Freeze to the railing. When he turned, he faltered. Nightwing was beaming up at him, dimples and all, as his voice rang proudly in Jason’s ears, “Little Wing!”

The older boy stepped forward, gently pushing Jason’s head to the side in a way of brotherly affection before declaring, “When did you get so good?”

He stood still for a second, enjoying how Wing had said it in such an unplanned manner that gave away that his brother was in fact all genuine pride. Jason gave a small smirk in return, content to wait for a second longer while the other vigilante called Gotham’s finest to come clean up.

Jason was just about to duck out of the skylight from when he came, Nightwing a flash of black and blue next to him, when he felt the coldest prick bury itself in his stomach. It was like ice pooling in his abdomen as he fell, skin raised with goosebumps and completely numb as he watched Nightwing’s face morph from complete victory to something very close to panic as the older boy dove back down into the belly of the warehouse to retrieve Robin.

Fuck.

Jason really fucking hated that fucking freeze ray. And he hated that he was stupid enough to let it hit him. Dick’s hand immediately wrapped around his wrist, heaving him up as he quickly fired his grapple. Jason was shivering violently, fighting back tears in his eyes as he grit his teeth. He was so cold that it burned. He vaguely heard his older brother call for Batman, voice concerned with the tiniest undertone of panic as he relayed the situation to B.

Once they were on the roof, Jason started to feel his teeth chattering as Dick tried to soothe him, “It’s okay, Little Wing. B’s on his way and then we’ll get you nice and warm.”

If Jason could, he absolutely would roll his eyes as Nightwing adjusted his grip to hold Jason just the tiniest bit closer before pulling them both to the next rooftop to wait for Batman to show up. Jason bared his teeth, snarling again when he saw the soft white snowflakes float down through the air. Cutting through the smog and filth of Gotham like it was the most natural thing in the world. Of course it was snowing. Jason hated the snow and he hated the biting cold wind that served only to intensify the burning in his limbs. He felt like if his brother dropped him, even stumbled the tiniest bit, he would shatter into a thousand pieces.

He mumbled a response back into the older boy’s shoulder, “S’okay. Glad you were there to catch me, Wing.”

He wanted to punch Dick in the shoulder for trying to coddle him like a child, though. He wasn’t a child and he didn’t need to be soothed. It wasn’t the pain or the cold that was the worst part, it was that he knew that if he looked down the dark streets of the Alley for too long he would see ghosts. Memories of him trudging along in the dead of night, trying his best to stay out of the wandering eyes of the two bit thugs and D list criminals as he made his way across Crime Alley and twice back. If he closed his eyes he was sure he could feel the soaked through clothes clinging to his frame, making him shiver even more before he curled up into the corner of a long deserted alleyway, streets away from the nearest shelter. Sometimes, if he were in particular dire straits or if he was feeling ballsy, he would worm his way over to the public housing buildings, nestling in the corner by a vent that exhausted hot air that would warm his sodden and weary bones.

He hated that when his eyelids fluttered closed all he could see was a flash of blue toned bodies, not unlike Freeze. Sometimes their eyes would be closed and other times they’d be wide open, the crows taking their lion’s share from their sockets. All unnaturally still, just like his mother had been. Jason kept his eyes open, trying to focus on anything else. N’s soft reassurances only served to annoy him though, so instead he focused on the noises of the city.

He could hear the loud curses from five streets over, the sound of boots hitting the tarmac below them, the rumble of cars as they rolled through intersections and down back alley streets. He heard the wail of sirens over the bridge, even with the snow, the sounds and the heartbeat of Gotham could never truly be silenced. They would only be muffled until the snow melted again off of the gargoyles and the sharp brutalist architecture of the city in the spring, when it would come back in full force. Even with the snow, Gotham didn’t bother trying to hide what it was.

Jason’s ears perked up, red and ringing and it hurt to move, but he had done a decent job of ignoring the pain when he heard the soft motor of the Batmobile pull up. His teeth were still chattering and his limbs still shaking and burning, but he had distracted himself enough. Dick gently handed him off to B, who wrapped his own cape around Jason’s body before propelling down the side of the warehouse. Jason lulled his head against the rough Kevlar of Batman, tugging Bruce’s cape a little closer around him as he let out a small breath. The Batmobile was warm in the way that there was an initial blast of warm air when he first entered, but after a while it started to feel just like you were next to the fireplace, warming your soul after a long journey.

“Status report?”

Jason could feel the question rumble around in Bruce’s chest as he was gently placed into the passenger seat of the Batmobile. It made sense that B would want to put him closer to the vents, so  he didn’t protest too much. Jason felt a little sad when he felt Batman’s cape slip off of his shoulders as the older man crouched down in front of him. He barely registered Nightwing sliding into the back seats as he considered the question.

“‘M not hurt. Just cold,” He choked out, wrapping his own cape around him once more and burying his face in the soft fabric. He scrunched his nose up, almost missing the way that Bruce’s face softened under the cowl before he continued, “Really fuckin’ cold.”

“Language.” Bruce scolded immediately. There was a snicker in the backseat.

“Do you think Agent A will make me hot chocolate when we get back?” He asked, to no one in particular. He scrunched up his face in disgust, not liking how young his voice sounded as he was fighting to stay conscious. The burning cold he had felt before had subsided into more of a full body ache while he was parked in front of the heat and with Bruce blocking most of the cold air with his body. He thought he saw the smallest smile on Batman’s lips, but he couldn’t be sure as he turned away with a swish of his cape, moving to the back of the car for some reason.

He returned a few seconds later, gently swaddling Jason in the thickest blanket they kept for emergencies, answering, “Of course, chum.”

With one last look at the snowflakes that didn’t melt immediately on Batman’s cape and the hard line of Bruce’s jaw, Jason watched as he closed the door and they started on their journey homeward. Dick shifted in the back too, over a seat so Jason could see him out of the peripheral of his vision. He appreciated that as he squirmed in the blanket, trying to tug the tiniest bit over his head. Doc Thompkins had mentioned something about keeping the center of the body warm in relation to hypothermia. Head, neck, chest, and groin should be covered. Jason was already pretty burrito-ed up, but he wanted to keep his head warm. They all lapsed into a tense silence. Jason could feel the waves of worry and concern coming off of both Bruce and Dick. It was the stiffness in Batman’s movements that gave the man away and the slight frown tugging at his lips under the cowl, followed almost immediately after by the flexing of his jaw. Bruce only did that when he was hellbent on fixing something.

Dick did tend to go stiff as well, but that was when he was in the field. His older brother had a habit of bouncing his knee and drumming his fingers on the tops of his knee. It was a habit Jason had only ever observed when he was a public figure, the son of billionaire Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson. He didn’t know why it comforted him so much to see the older boy drumming his long, lithe fingers on the soft fabric of his suit, just above his knee, but it did. The older boy was being uncharacteristically quiet, though. Jason felt his shoulders slump a little when he finally forced himself to acknowledge that he was okay. He was safe with people who would protect him. He was going to get warm and he could probably skip school tomorrow if he wanted, which actually kind of sucked.

“Jay?” Bruce had put a gloved hand on his shoulder and Jason jumped rather violently. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t even seen the hero move. He felt Bruce immediately rescind his hand from Jason’s shoulder, voice still in the Batman growl, when he apologized and asked, “What was that face for?”

He hadn’t even realized that he had screwed his face up into something like distaste until Bruce called him out for it. He suddenly looked down, fiddling with his hands even though they were trapped in the cocoon of the blanket, suddenly more than a little sheepish as he bit the inside of his cheek. He cleared his throat, “I don’t want to miss school tomorrow.”

There was another snicker from the back seat. Bruce clearly hadn’t been expecting that particular answer, since he took a second to reply. They were almost in Bristol now and Jason suddenly felt very tired. 

“I don’t know if you’ll be going to school tomorrow, especially if this snow keeps up.”

Jason nodded, there was about an inch of snow dusting the ground already and it was coming down hard, in fat clumps of snowflakes. When they had still been in the city the boroughs had already started to salt the ground, which was warning enough for Jason that they expected a lot of snow. He hoped so. He didn’t want to miss doing his book report in Ms. Jones’ class. She was his favorite and she was always so interested in what Jason had to say, especially about analyzing the classics that they were reading in class. 

He was fighting to keep his eyes open when they finally pulled into the Cave. Jason waited for Bruce to come over to his side and pick him up, carrying him up into the manor. Jason knew he was going to be soaked in a lukewarm bath and then bundled up in warm, dry clothes before he could even get a whiff of hot chocolate, but it didn’t make it suck any less. Alfred must’ve already drawn the bath, since they were headed straight for his bathroom. He started tugging off pieces of his uniform when Bruce finally put him down. He let the blanket slide down around his shoulders, pooling on the ground as he yawned. Dick had stayed down in the Cave to see if he could help the butler with anything, and if he got hot chocolate before Jason he was going to be pissed.

Bruce disappeared into Jason’s room for a second, apparently looking for the appropriately warm clothes for him to put on when he was done with his bath by the sliding of the drawers. Jason stripped down to his boxers before letting the blanket fall completely on the floor. To his horror, when he looked at his bare skin in the pale yellow lighting of the bathroom, there was a layer of frost sparkling back up at him. Just like the frost that coated the bodies of people who he saw die. Jason could feel the panic building, his body shaking even more violently now that it had both anxiety and the cold to contend with. Just when Jason felt like he was going to lose it, Batman appeared in the doorway. 

It was Bruce’s gray blue eyes that met his gaze instead of the flat stare of Batman. B’s entire face softened at the bare panic that was threatening to consume Jason whole and he stepped forward, asking if he could give Jason a hug. At least, that’s what he thought his adoptive dad was asking him, considering Jason couldn’t really hear anything. He merely nodded and within seconds he was pulled into a bear hug. Jason hated to admit it, but he loved Bruce’s hugs.

Jason didn’t know when he had started sobbing, but he could feel his hot tears on his skin, soaking into Bruce’s cape at his shoulder. It was too much. His body was still shaking and to add sobbing to the mix? It was taking too much energy out of Jason. Energy he didn’t have. But Bruce held him there for more than a couple minutes, rubbing soothing circles on his back before he pulled away. Jason dried his eyes and sniffled once more, trying his best not to look at his skin. He knew it was time to get into the bath.

What he hadn’t expected was for Bruce to join him in the bath, but he did after he was done stripping away his own armor. Jason was wrapped securely up in Bruce’s arms as he hid in his chest. It had been a long night of both old and new trauma and Jason wanted nothing more than for it to be over as he clung to his father’s chest. The water had stung when he had first gotten in, but it was starting to thaw out his skin. It felt nice, after a while. Jason let his eyes flutter closed, relaxing more when he felt Bruce give his curls a feather-light kiss as he murmured reassurances. Jason liked being able to feel the words rumble around in the older man’s chest. It reminded Jason a lot of how cats purred. 

He could feel Bruce gently nudge his shoulder, willing him out of the half sleep he had fallen into sometime later. Begrudgingly, he managed to open his eyes, if only for the fear that shot through his heart at the idea that if he fell asleep while still freezing he wouldn’t wake up. He was met with as close to a smile as Bruce’s face normally got, the very corners of his lips lifted up in a small quirk that only happened when he was amused. Jason could see the amusement twinkling in his eyes before he spoke, “I think it’s time to get you to bed, Jaylad.” He rubbed his eye, “D’you think my temp is back up to normal?” Bruce nodded, ignoring the slant of Jason’s vowels that leaned very heavily to Crime Alley. It really only happened if Jason was dead tired, or if he was trying to make Bruce laugh, or if he was trying to annoy Bruce. He was getting better at codeswitching now, but he still missed being able to use Alley slang. He could really only use it on the kids he interacted with on patrol and half the time they just would stare blank faced up at him in awe and confusion. It was one part that he desperately missed. Jason yawned again, slowly working his way out of the bathtub. 

He didn’t mind at all when Bruce grabbed the thermometer and checked his temperature twice before saying he needed to change. That at least was par for the course. They both needed to change, Jason thought as he tugged on the sofiest pair of pajama pants he owned and a well loved hoodie. He would change into a t-shirt before bed. Jason didn’t like to wear long sleeves to bed, especially now that he didn’t have to. He stretched, wandering out into the hallway to see if Alfred was still up. He really wanted that hot chocolate. And to say goodnight to Dick. 

He could hear the soft voice of the TV that they kept in the kitchen floating up the main staircase. It was an unintelligible murmur, but it still calmed him down a bit. Alfred normally made it a habit of keeping it on as background noise during the nights that they went on patrol, it was normally tuned to channel seven, which reported on the Gotham news. It was a way for the butler to make sure they were okay when he wasn’t in the Cave. 

Jason padded down the dark hallway of the foyer, his footsteps muffled by the long runner that ran down the length of it. He was rubbing his eye now, his sleeve pulled over his hand as he tried to fight back the tiredness that was tugging at the peripheral of his being. Jason vaguely hoped that he would be too tired to dream. 

“Ah, it appears young master Jason is awake after all,” Alfred’s soft voice greeted, stopping momentarily from scrubbing some dishes in the apron front sink they had. Dick was changed and dressed in civvies, perched on a stool by the island, his hands cradling a mug. Jason glared at him. His older brother only smiled cheekily, before ruffling Jason’s still wet hair. 

“It’s coffee, Jay.”

Was Dick waiting for him to come down so they could all have hot chocolate together? Jason didn’t know what to do with that particular thought. No one had ever done that for him before, not even Dick. Granted, his older brother would normally high tail it off the Manor grounds the second the coast was clear, even now. The younger boy cringed, not wanting Bruce and his brother to fight, especially when he was already dealing with so much. He pushed all those feelings aside though, hopping up on the stool next to the older boy and asked Alfred if they could have some hot chocolate, if the butler didn’t mind making it.

“Of course, lad. It’s no problem at all,” Came Alfred’s easy reply. Jason beamed up at him before jumping off and finishing washing up the dishes in the sink. It was only fair, especially since Alfred had so readily accepted his request. Dick remained at the island, sipping his coffee as he watched his brother. 

“You alright?” He asked around a pause in his coffee intake. Jason didn’t turn to face him, instead he continued towel drying the dishes left in the basin, considering his older brother. He wasn’t going to tell Dick that he was probably going to have nightmares tonight, his brother didn’t need to know that. Instead, Jason was considering if he was physically okay. The bath had helped warm him up considerably, he was no longer a pile of aching skin and muscle. The heat in the manor didn’t burn against his chilled skin like it had when Bruce first brought him up. It felt pleasant now. Jason nodded his head once, agreeing with himself before he voiced his response. 

“Yeah,” He called over his shoulder, “I’m alright.” 

Jason didn’t see the relieved smile that settled on the man behind him, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there as Dick sighed, “Yeah? Okay, good.”

He had placed the last dish on the drying rack when he knew Bruce was on the staircase. Jason had yet to figure out exactly how he knew when his adoptive dad was on the staircase, since the man never made any sound, but he always just knew. Alfred had turned down the volume on the TV considerably when he put the milk on the stove and the three of them had lapsed into a comfortable silence. Alfred being too focused on making sure the milk wouldn’t burn and Dick not wanting to push his little brother to talk about things that he didn’t want to talk about. It was nice, Jason decided as he once again pulled himself up onto the stool, Bruce in the doorway now. 

He felt a strong hand ruffle his curls as B passed behind him, a baritone voice asking without any heat, “What are you still doing up? I thought I told you to go to bed.”

Jason smirked, “Waiting for hot chocolate, old man.”

The man chuckled, flicking his son’s ear. Jason swatted his hand away, grumbling as he sunk down in his seat. Dick was smirking next to him, eyes alight with mirth and mischief as he tried desperately to not laugh. 

“Would you like me to prepare you a mug, Master Bruce?”

He paused in front of the fridge, his hand wrapped around the stainless steel handle as he considered the butler. Jason wouldn’t mind, it would be nice to have all of them together before he went to bed. He didn’t want to admit it, but it would make him feel safe with everyone in his little family chatting and sharing a drink.

“Yes, actually,” Bruce responded, opening the fridge to pull out a can of whipped cream and then striding over to one of the cabinets. Jason sat in awe as he watched the older man stretch up to tug down four mugs. Bruce’s size had intimidated him when he first arrived at the manor, but now that he knew Batman, and by default Bruce, was a protector he had grown to be in awe of the man. Jason hoped that he would be as strong as Bruce was, one day. He would use his strength and size to shield people, to be a protector, just like Bruce.

He watched as the man set the mugs on the counter, pushing two towards both of the boys, while he brushed past Alfie to dig around in the pantry. He returned with a bag of small marshmallows in one hand and hot chocolate mix in the other. It was a wonder that Alfred even let them keep the marshmallows in the house, since the brit despised any form of overly processed sugar. Bruce had convinced him to keep them, if only one, in the house for this very reason and Jason was eternally grateful for it. The butler reluctantly agreed but not before making all three of them swear that they wouldn’t eat them straight out of the bag. Jason watched Alfred take the milk off the heat, moving behind Bruce to pour it smoothly into each of their mugs. 

Jason immediately wrapped his hands around the warmth of the mug, reaching over the counter to reach the whipped cream and serving himself a generous amount. He only stopped from squirting the whipped cream directly in his mouth because Alfred was there. He passed it over to his brother and took a greedy sip. He practically melted in his chair. It was so good! It was so rich and smooth and not too hot that it burned the top of his mouth and his tongue. Alfred was the best.

They quickly devolved into happy chatter amongst themself, laughing and teasing among each other as they enjoyed their warm drinks and watched the snow float through the air through the kitchen window. Jason felt content for the first time in a long while.