#the two in time were the first Tim I drew both I’m pretty sure

[grasstimes]

Some sketches then some grey scale stuff that turned into sprite studies kinda

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

one intense chapter after another, ey?

part fourteen

❝ BIRD OF PREY ❞

SATURDAY — AUGUST 8 — 8:10AM

ASTEN SUGGESTED THEY FIND THE SECRET KEEPER’S BOSS FIRST. Which was easier said than done, considering they were thirteen and ten and the person they were trying to find had a telepathic metahuman at their disposal. (If they even existed, considering the Secret Keeper was so twisted she might just brand herself for fun and not have a boss at all.)

But even then, that didn’t stop Asten. He rivaled Tim when it came to his case-focus ratio. He’d begun his near-endless search right after they talked about it, and he was making a running list of every single person in Drew, Gotham, and Bludhaven that had gone missing in the past four months. Gathering any and all information he could weasel out of the media. (Why, Bentley wasn’t sure.)

After about two hours of list making mixed with random chatter and questions about each others lives, Bentley’s willpower to stay awake tapered off, and he faded away on his side of the bed with nothing more than Asten’s Crime-Alley-laced Portuguese accent to lure him to sleep. And it did a pretty good job of it. Because he was utterly and completely dead to the world until repetitive, incessant vibrating drew him back out of his slumber.

The sunshine was beaming against Bentley’s blackout curtains, making the room dim instead of gold. He moved in response to the vibrations at the same time Asten did. His clock read 8:17am, and he was really glad it was Saturday. No one would expect him to get up until at least nine or ten, given their strange circumstances.

Asten, who was still sitting up and staring at the screen of Tim’s computer that Bentley now claimed, fished his phone out from under the dark sheets and pressed it to his ear with a quiet: “Hello?”

A loud, urgent, rambling voice was what came back. Bentley couldn’t tell what it was saying, but Asten blinked and shook his head.

“Wait, wait, wait, man, slow down. What?” He muttered, rubbing at his eyes and putting the phone on speaker. “Go again — slower.”

“I didn’t… I can’t… oh my God,” Bentley recognized the voice, and his suspicions were confirmed when he noticed the caller ID on Asten’s screen said Nico. He sounded halfway to hysterical, crying and very nearly hyperventilating.

“Can’t what?” Asten inquired, closing the laptop with a click.

“Breathe,”

He sighed lightly, brushing a hand through his messy blue hair. “Dude, we’ve talked about this. If you can speak, you can breathe.”

Bentley laid his head back down on his pillow to listen.

“I can’t… Asten, you won’t…”

“What is it?”

Bentley heard Nico suck in a shaky breath, and it came back out as a couple quiet, pitiful sobs. “I had a dream about her, Asten. About her.”

Bentley’s eyes flicked up to Asten’s at the same time Asten’s flicked down to his. 

Oh crap.

Asten sucked in a breath. “The Secret Keeper?”

“Yes! And-and my parents left at just five thirty for a business trip and they aren’t going to be back until Sunday night and I usually don’t go anywhere because I can just call them but I think this deal that they’re closing is really important and I don’t want to bother them and make them not close it but I’m-“

“Rambling,” Asten interjected. 

“Can I come to your house? I’ll… I’ll hail a cab or something, I-“ Nico’s voice sounded different, filtering through both tears and the phone. He almost sounded younger.

“Not a cab driver in the world is going to take you to Crime Alley alone, dude.”

“I don’t… I’ll deal with that, okay? Just… just please, please, I’m so freaking scared,”

The little rattle-rattle-hiss-hiss of his inhaler sounded from the other end of the line, and Bentley frowned.

So the Secret Keeper hit both Nico and Asten in the same night. Bentley figured it made sense if she could read minds, since Nico was probably in Asten’s a lot. Maybe that’s how she got Dick and Bentley within hours of each other?

“You can bribe them with however much money you want, but it won’t do you any good,” Asten explained, sitting up and gently placing the laptop on Bentley’s bedside table. “I’m not home.”

Nico’s funny breathing exercise they had been listening to him perform promptly stopped. “You’re not… what? Where are you, then?”

“Bentley’s,”

“Bentley’s?! When did you decide to go over there?!” Nico squeaked.

“When the Secret Keeper decided that I needed to die. I had a dream about her, too — so did Bentley. I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer, so I walked to your house instead. Halfway there, actually, before she started chasing me. I panicked and called Bentley.”

Nico’s voice nearly doubled in pitch. “You mean you saw her? With your eyes?!”

“Yes, with my eyes,” Asten shot back. “Thanks for answering the phone when I could’ve literally been dying, by the way.”

“You can’t be mad at me, I’m already crying,” Nico replied with a huff. Another rattle-rattle-hiss-hiss emanated from the phone. “We’re going to die. We’re so going to die.”

Bentley grabbed his phone off of his opposite nightstand and sent a text to Bruce:

Nico had a nightmare about the secret keeper too.

Bruce’s typing bubbles only popped up for a split second before a response came.

Oh no. Does he need anything? We’re only a few minutes away from his house. 

Bentley glanced over at Asten, who was attempting to talk Nico into a better breathing pattern over the phone.

He’s home alone all weekend and he’s really scared, is what Bentley texted back.

Bruce’s typing bubbles came, disappeared, then came again, and a text rolled in a few seconds later.

Does he want us to pick him up? You and Asten can ride.

Bentley held the phone over to Asten, who scanned the screen quickly.

“Please come over,” He heard Nico mutter from one end of the phone.

“Jokes on you, dude, you’re coming over,” Asten replied, sending Bentley a little nod. He texted Bruce back: yes.

“Huh?”

“We’re coming to get you, nosebleed. Go put your shoes on,”

Bentley furrowed his brows. “Nosebleed?”

“Means rich kid,” Asten muttered to Bentley. “You’re a nosebleed, too.”

“What do you mean we’re coming to get you? Who’s we?”

“Bruce is driving us over there, dude,” Asten stated, tossing the covers off of his legs and climbing out of the bed. Bentley followed suit.

“What?! No! I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want… I don’t want to bother him! I… I…”

“Calm down, Bruce is cool. He literally picked me up from the middle of downtown past two a.m. last night,” Asten explained as he pulled on his black tennis shoes that he’d abandoned next to Bentley’s bedroom door. Bentley did the same with the red tennis shoes he’d put back into the drawer of his wardrobe. “Plus, didn’t you literally tell me the other day that he offered you a ride whenever you needed one?”

“Well, yeah, but… but he was talking about school, and I don’t want to- oh my God, what was that?”

“Nico?” Asten inquired as he and Bentley made their way out of his bedroom and down the stairs. Bentley could already see Bruce putting his jacket on at the front door. (He really didn’t waste any time when it came to this sort of thing, did he?)

“I just heard something,” Nico muttered back.

“You have three dogs in the house, dude. We’re leaving now. I think it’s only a few minutes to your place,” Asten explained quietly as they padded up to Bruce, who muttered a quick: “Good morning, boys.” With a small smile and some kind of sentimental, nostalgic look in his gray irises.

“Good morning,” Bentley replied.

“Don’t you dare hang up on me!” Nico practically demanded, and his voice was getting thick, like he was crying hard again. “Please!”

“I’m not,” Asten reassured, switching the phone from one hand to the other.

There was another rattle-rattle-hiss-hiss and some muted mumbling about how he was going to need a new inhaler before the end of the year (which was apparently a bad thing.) as they walked out into the cold toward the garage. It was now cloudy and overcast, casting a gray hue on everything. They jogged from the house to the garage in the biting wind.

The garage was big, and the whole left wall was full of tools and car gadgets that Bentley was pretty sure no one ever touched but Jason. Bentley had only really seen him work on a few of the motorcycles they used for patrol, and the Batmobile once, all in the cave, so he wondered if anybody actually ever used the stuff out there.

They made their way to Bruce’s car, the last one on the left, and climbed in as quickly as they could. Bentley’s mind was spinning and spinning. The Secret Keeper was targeting his friends and family, for what? Fun?

He climbed in the righthand backseat and watched as Asten and Bruce popped their doors open. Bruce got in quickly, and Asten right afterward, though Bentley didn’t miss the little metallic clink or the way Asten oh-so-subtly swiped something from the workbench next to the vehicle.

At first he thought he might’ve been stealing, which was strange. But he climbed into the car with no hesitation, holding a shiny tire iron just out of Bruce’s sight, and shoved it beneath their seats with only a pointed glare sent Bentley’s way.

Oh. Right. Just in case.

They pulled out of the garage and set off, and Bruce turned the heat on. “It’s only eight minutes to your house, Nico,” He called from the front seat. All he got in response was a forced little: “Okay.” From Asten’s phone.

Bentley watched the outdoors pass in the window, occasionally listening to whatever rambling Nico kept doing. 

Why was the Secret Keeper targeting them?

He watched the minutes until arrival tick down from eight to two, only startling when there was a bang and a gasp from Nico’s end of the call.

“What was-“

“Oh my God there’s someone in the house!” Nico half-whispered into the phone. It sounded like his voice was stifled by his hand and his hysterical crying. “There’s-there’s… there’s someone in the house, the-the door…”

“We’re only a couple minutes away,” Bruce said, speeding up quite a bit. Bentley recognized the streets they were on from driving Nico home from school, and the minutes changed from two to one. They were literally almost there, yet every passing second made his heart beat faster.

What if they weren’t on time?

“I can hear them, I-I can hear them walking, I-“

“Then shut up and hide, dude,” Asten muttered, glancing over at Bentley with wide eyes, a hollowness in them similar to when he’d been chased. Something akin to hopelessness, maybe.

Nothing but the sound of Nico’s muffled crying came through the phone for a solid thirty seconds.

Then a bang. A wham. A scream. And the three telltale beeps of the call ending.

“Nico?” Asten questioned, quickly dialing his number again. It rang, it rang, it rang, and it went to voicemail.

Bentley’s heart sank to his toes.

“He isn’t answering!” Asten basically shouted. His calm and collected demeanor completely vanished, and Bentley wondered how he could keep his cool so good when trying to keep Nico calm.

Bruce pulled into the Rockefeller’s driveway not ten seconds later. It had began to mist slightly, and it was getting a little foggy. Everything looked normal. Normal except…

The front door was open.

“Stay in the car,” Bruce ordered, climbing out of the front seat. Bentley noticed that it sounded a little more like his Batman voice than his Bruce voice, and fully intended on obeying Batman’s orders. 

Asten did not. 

He popped his door open despite Bruce’s words and was already halfway out before the Batman stopped him in his tracks, taking up a position between the boy and the house. Asten’s attempts to go around him were fooled by Bruce extending an arm. 

“Mr. Wayne-”

“Get back in the car, bud. It’s too dangerous,” Bruce ordered. Asten tried again to curve around the other way, but a large hand stopped him, again.

“But-“

“I’ll make sure he’s safe, but I need to make sure you’re safe, too,” Bruce gestured quickly back to Asten’s seat. “Go on. I’ll be right back.”

With a huff, Asten slid back into the car and closed the door. All four doors clicked when Bruce engaged the locks, and both Bentley and Asten watched him head through the fog and into the house without reproach.

Once he was out of sight, Asten huffed deeply, sinking back into his seat and rubbing a hand over his face. He looked tired.

“Why is this happening to us?” He murmured, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Bentley would offer words of reassurance, but if he were completely honest, he was thinking the same thing.

Were they just another statistic, another tally on the Secret Keeper’s record, or was this something darker, something more sinister than even they could comprehend? Was she really just a serial killer and kidnapper, or was something else going on that they didn’t know about?

Bentley shrunk back into his seat, too. “I don’t know.”

Minutes passed. Two. Five. Seven. When they got to nine, the front door swung open.

And Bentley’s heart catapulted from his toes all the way into his throat.

“Oh my God,” Asten said lowly, and Bentley gasped, his left hand fumbling for something to grab — he ended up squeezing the hem of Asten’s jacket.

The Secret Keeper was grinning at them with her stitched smile from the front door, amber eyes nearly glowing into the dim fog. Her white hair was stringy and looked kind of wet, stained at the bottom with something brown Bentley didn’t want to think too hard about. She was staring at them. Hard and cold and unabashedly, deep down into their souls, into their minds, smiling.

Bentley found the back of his eyes burning, and he made a pitiful sound when Asten’s jacket was wrenched out of his grip by the Brazilian reaching for the tire iron he’d stowed away.

She was just staring at them. Just staring. Still staring when Asten sat back up with the tire iron in hand and turned toward the window, and Bentley grabbed onto the back of his jacket. Staring and smiling. The car was so quiet he could only hear his and Asten’s equally ragged, panicked breaths.

“It’s a trap.” Asten whispered, breathless despite not taking a step. “For us.”

Bentley whimpered: “Are you sure?”

“It sure as hell seems like one,” Asten replied softly. The Secret Keeper hadn’t moved an inch. Why wasn’t she doing anything?

“What if Bruce is-“

“He’s not,” Asten silenced Bentley’s dark thought pattern immediately. “Don’t panic, Whittaker.”

“Not panicking,” Bentley murmured back, even though his knuckles were starting to turn white from how hard he was clutching Asten’s jacket. 

“Call Bruce,” 

Bentley wasted no time using the hand that wasn’t holding onto the older boy’s jacket for dear life to fish his phone out. As soon as his finger hovered over the call button, however, a sharp, stabbing pain ripped from one side of his skull to the other, and he dropped the device with a shrill, stifled shout, folding in on himself in the seat. An ear-splitting ring drowned out nearly all other noise, and he didn’t hear Asten speak, only felt his friend’s hands land on either side of his head in an attempt to understand what was going on. 

Black and purple splotches danced in his vision. He could feel himself breathing, and he could feel Asten’s hands near his temples, but he couldn’t hear anything over the ring that threatened to bust his eardrums. His attempts to move were quickly halted by an onslaught of disorienting vertigo, making what he could see of the vehicle around him warp and spin.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell your secrets, Babybird,”

He grappled for something, anything, tugging at what he thought might’ve been Asten’s pant leg as he coiled up into a little ball on the seat next to him. He tried to force words out but he couldn’t hear them. He couldn’t hear anything. Please don’t let her kill me.

Everything went black.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @cademygod

[ragingbookdragon]

What Is A Mother, But The Woman Who Loves Us Most?

A Batmom x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: I know there is a story like this already (by a different author) but I should preface that this is a story that I posted a year or so before but deleted my previous blog last year, so it's not going to seem like it. I haven't copied any ideas, this is my own that I posted a year or so ago, and re-posting again now. -Thorne

You are not my mother!

The loathing words came out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he watched the cave go deathly quiet around him. Everyone's eyes were wide, even hers, but a millisecond later, they set in a hard stare as she stood straight, her jaw tightening.

She nodded, staring at him. "You're right Damian. I'm not Talia al Ghul. I'm not your mother. But I will tell you what I am." She raised her left hand, flashing the silver wedding ring on her finger. "I'm your father's wife. And what I tell you to do in this manor is what I expect from you."

He shook his head in anger, glaring at her. "This is my father's manor!"

"No Damian, this is the Wayne Manor. And I've been, to use a rather weathered term, the lady of the house for almost fifteen years. Long before you were even a thought in Talia's mind." He stopped and she crossed her arms. "I may not be your mother, but you are a child and your father and I are the adults. When you turn eighteen, you can make all the decisions you want. Until then, what we say goes."

His lips drew in a taut line and she added, "I've already talked about it to Bruce. You're not allowed on patrol after what happened at the gala. If you want to complain to him about it, he's going to tell you the same thing." Her eyes shifted to the others, then she looked back at him one last time before turning around and walking up the stairs.

When she was gone, he let out a shout in anger and threw silver coffee pot against the cave wall. It hit the wall with a clang and dropped, rolling on the ground a few times as it spilled its contents, much like his mood.

He felt their eyes on them and he whipped his head up, glaring at them. "What?!"

Tim and Jason simply narrowed their eyes at him, but Dick walked forward and knelt in front of him. "Kiddo, that wasn't a nice thing to say to mom."

Damian scoffed at him before shoving past, climbing up the stairs. “Like the three of you haven't said that to her before." There was no return to his statement, giving him all the answer, he needed.

***

He stepped out of the study stretching his arms and listening to the sound of his bones popping before he shifted, moving towards the door. The boys had left a few minutes earlier to catch a rerun of an episode of Vikings, leaving him alone in the cave.

Alfred walked up to him, handing him a sweater before motioning to the door. "Mrs. Wayne has taken a seat out on the patio. I suspect you'll wish to see her."

Bruce nodded, taking the sweater from him before thanking him and moving out of the study and towards the patio. He crossed into the living room as he did, stopping to stare at his four sons passed out on the couch. The TV was still going, so he leaned down, gently taking the remote from Dick's hand and shutting it off.

He set the remote down and started his path again, but stopped when he heard, "You going to check on mom?" He turned around, looking at a his oldest.

Bruce nodded, taking in the sight of Dick’s arms wrapped around all of his brothers. “After you boys told me what happened, I thought I should talk to her about it."

Dick nodded, reaching up and rubbing his eyes, careful not to wake the others beside him. "He didn't mean it...he'll see that when he gets over being angry."

Bruce nodded and leaned over, ruffling his hair. “Tell Jason that you two should stay at the manor tonight...it's too late for you to head home anyway."

Dick started to argue, but a look from his father and quick, “Your mother would have a fit if you two tried to drive home now or later…you know that.”

His son nodded and Bruce turned around once more, this time making his way to the dimly lit patio. His hand curled around the cool metal handle of the sliding glass door, and he quietly opened it, stepping out onto the deck. She lay on the porch swing, covered by a heavy hound’s tooth blanket, with a barely full wine glass in her hand.

He walked towards her and bent over, picking up the wine bottle; he shook it lightly before quipping, "I can't believe you've drank an entire bottle in one sitting."

As if finally noticing his presence, she tipped her head lazily to him and mumbled, "It's empty?"

He snorted and tipped the bottle upside down. "As it was the day before it was bottled."

Bruce paused and grinned as she huffed a laugh and brought the glass she had in her hand up to her mouth. He watched her down the rest of her red wine before she set the glass on the table; he set the bottle beside it and shifted her forward, easing his way behind her until they were both comfortable. She rested her back against his chest, her head dropping against his shoulder. His arms came up around her as he pulled the blanket up to her neck, keeping her warm.

He was quiet for a second then he murmured, "...The boys told me what happened earlier."

There was a moment of silence, then she whispered, "I know I should be used to it after hearing it come from each of them..." She stopped, then continued with, "But it still stings to hear it."

A sad smile crossed his lips as he pressed his lips to her temple. "Of course it stings (Y/N)...you're their mother and you love them." After he didn't receive a response from her, he tipped his head and looked down. "(Y/N)? Love?" She turned her head, and he took in the sight of the tears in her eyes; his face fell at the sight and he brought a hand up, cupping her cheek. "Oh…sweetheart."

(Y/N) choked out a sob and pressed her face into the crook of his neck as she clenched a hand in his sweater. Bruce rested his chin on the top of her head as he rubbed her back, comforting her with quiet words.

***

Damian watched them from the screen door, feeling his heart clench in his chest at the sight of (Y/N) sobbing. He swallowed thickly and stepped back, only to come into contact with someone—something. He let out a quiet gasp and spun around, seeing Dick staring sadly out at his parents, Tim and Jason behind him doing the same.

Damian looked at them and whispered, "What are you three doing?"

Dick glanced at him briefly before motioning to them. "We heard the sliding door open, and we went to listen."

"I didn't know you were eavesdroppers."

A hand came up and cuffed him upside the head; he held his head, glaring at Jason who bit out, "Shut up, two-bit. You were eavesdropping too."

Damian opened his mouth to retort, but shut it and turned back around, looking at her. A moment passed, then he mumbled, "You said the same thing I did." He looked up at his brothers, who wore clouded expressions; each of them nodded after a few seconds, and he asked, "What happened?"

Dick was the first to speak, remembering a time from when he was a mere ten years old.

***

He stomped angrily through the house, not even caring about her following him; she called after him repeatedly. "Dick. Dick, honey, stop for a second."

He didn't listen, still moving. "No! You grounded me!"

"And I grounded you for a reason. You deliberately disobeyed me." He grunted at her and she called out, her voice ringing with authority, "Richard John Grayson. Not another step young man." He stopped at it and she continued, "You left the cave tonight and went on patrol without asking. As your mom-"

He spun around, his eyes angered as he spit, "You're not my mom! Stop acting like it!" Her mouth shut, and her eyes went wide from the declarations.

She blinked, obviously stunned at his words, and she stared down at her hands murmuring, "I may not be your real mother...but I...I am...I..." She drew off, bringing a hand up to wipe at her cheek. Dick's widened when she looked up at him, and he saw the tears beginning to spill, running down her cheeks.

He raised his hands out to her. "Wait! I—I didn't mean it!"

(Y/N) looked down and she brought a hand up to her mouth, moving past him, letting out a broken, 'excuse me'. He watched her go past him, then a few moments later, Bruce walked into the room and he turned to him.

"Bruce!" Bruce looked down at him, taking in the sight of Dick, who was almost in tears.

The lecture he had ready for him went out the window as he squatted in front of Dick. "Dick?"

The boy looked up at him, tears filling those big blue eyes. "I—I messed up B-Bruce."

He reached out a hand, wiping his tears away. "What happened Dick?"

Dick lowered his head and he whispered, "I a—accidently told (Y/N) that she wasn't my m-mom."

Bruce sighed at him and murmured, “Oh, Dick." The boy began to sob, and Bruce reached out, pulling him into a hug. "It's okay, bud."

***

Dick looked at her and murmured, "I've never forgotten the look she gave me after I said it to her..." He looked down at Damian, and said, "And neither has she."

Jason nodded at that. "I'm sure she's never forgotten how I left the cave telling her I had to go find my real mom.

***

"What are you looking at baby?"

He jerked forward, clicking the screen to minimize the images. "Nothing!" He spun around to see her walking towards him, an amused smile on her face.

"And I'm assuming that nothing is not important?" She questioned.

He nodded. "Not at all."

She stared at him until he sighed and turned around, clicking the screen to reveal the images of the three women; she walked up to him. "Who are these women?"

He pointed to each one. "Sharmin Rosen, Lady Shiva, and Sheila Haywood."

(Y/N) nodded, looking at them. "They're very pretty women." She paused and looked at him. "But why are you looking at them." He dropped his gaze and picked at his fingers. "Jason? Hon?"

He looked back up at her. "One of them is my mom."

Her eyes widened as she said, "Like...your biological mom?"

He nodded. "I found out after I went back to my old apartment." He looked between the screen and (Y/N). "I'm gonna track them down." She was silent, her eyes moving to the screen, and he turned to her, rising from the chair. "I have to go find them...I have to go find my real mom."

***

"And those were the last words I ever said to Ma." They stared at Jason as he leaned against a table by the door. "And it got a lot worse when I came back...I said horrible things to Ma...about her not caring...about her not being a mother." He went silent and shook his head. "I fucked up a lot of things between us for a good couple years."

Tim watched him, then nodded. "I hadn't even realized I'd actually said it to mom...it was such an offhanded comment that I didn't even know what I said until she was gone."

***

He barely registered the sound of his bedroom door opening, let alone the sound of her footsteps as she walked up to him. He did, however, hear the disappointment in her tone as she said, "Timmy...you need to go to bed."

He shook his head, typing on the keyboard. "I'm fine."

"Honey, you've been awake for almost forty-eight hours." She rested a hand on his shoulder. "It's not good for your body if you stay up like this."

"I'm fine. Really, I'm good."

She squeezed his shoulder, the other hand reaching out to close the laptop. "You'll be good when you're asleep in bed." Skimming the top of this laptop, she stopped when his curled around her wrist.

He turned to her and said, "Will you stop mothering me? I'm fine. I don't need your help."

He let go of her and turned back to the screen, barely registering the way she quietly whispered, “Alright Timmy...goodnight”, and walked out of his room.

***

"The only reason I actually realized what I said was after a few minutes, I realized that she hadn't told me she loved me after saying good night." He paused, digging a groove into the carpet with his toes. "Mom didn't say anything about it the next day, but I could tell that something had shifted. She was more reserved when it came to me." He looked at Damian. "Look, I know you and I don't get along, but I'm going to tell you something brother to brother. Go apologize to mom and tell her that you didn't mean it."

It was all he said before he looked at the others and waved. "I'm going to bed.

Jason soon followed saying, "I'm with Timbers. I'm gonna go crash."

The two of them began making their way to their rooms when the sound of the screen door opening and closing brought their attention back. They looked towards it, seeing Bruce carrying (Y/N), her head pressed against his chest.

He stopped when he saw them, his surprised look giving way to a hard expression. "Were you four watching?" They all started making excuses, but he shushed them, nodding at their sleeping mother; they shut their mouths and he brought his foot back, sliding the door closed.

"Is mom alright?"

Bruce looked at Dick and nodded. "She's fine. Wine drunk...but fine." He looked down at Damian. "(Y/N) does a lot for all of us. You owe her an apology when she wakes up." Damian nodded, watching as he walked past them, carrying her up the stairs to their bedroom.

***

The dull throb in her head told her the migraine was something she was going to need some aspirin, water, and a heavy blanket to block out the light to fix. She groaned lightly as she burrowed her face in her pillow, then she opened her eyes and looked around the room.

Immediately, she took in the sight of the four of her boys curled up like cats in the bed with her. A smile graced her lips and she reached down beside her hip, running a hand over Tim's head; he shifted in his sleep, burying his face in her side and she struggled to bite back the laugh that wanted to come out. She reached over again and ran her hands through Dick and Jason's hair, watching them do the same.

She smiled at them, then a voice sounded from beside her. "Are you awake, Umi?" (Y/N) looked to her side, seeing Damian curled up beside her. Bruce's broad shoulders made him look so tiny from where he was laying and she nodded, raising a hand and caressing his head.

"I'm awake, sweetheart." He nodded, then moved under her arm, resting his head on her shoulder. Her arm settled comfortably around him, and she brought up her hand, gently running her fingers through his short hair.

After a few moments he whispered, "...I'm sorry, Umi."

Her response was to press her lips to his forehead, and murmur, "I know, baby."

He swallowed thickly, feeling the beginnings of tears gathering in his eyes. "I didn't mean to say it."

She nodded; her lips still pressed to his forehead. "I know you didn't, sweetheart. It was something said in anger."

He moved to sit up, looking up at her as he whispered harshly, "But I have hurt you! I made you cry! I...did this." He dropped his gaze, closing his eyes, and (Y/N) watched the tears begin to fall down his cheeks. He looked back up at her a few seconds later and said, "You are my mother, Umi...you are the only mother I've known."

(Y/N) shifted, careful not to wake her sons, then she cupped Damian's cheeks in her hands. "Baby...it's okay...I'm not angry at you."

He shook his head in her grip. "But you're sad because I said you weren't my mother."

(Y/N) brushed her thumbs under his eyes, wiping away the tears. "We all say things that we don't mean." He looked up at her and she searched his eyes. "What matters is that when they are said, we try our best to fix what we've done wrong."

Damian nodded his head and whispered, "I'm sorry, Umi."

A sad smile crossed her lips and she leaned forward, kissing his forehead. "I am too, baby." She pulled away and brushed his cheeks again. "I still love you though...with all my heart."

"You do? Even after what I said?"

(Y/N) nodded, pulling him to her; he rested his head under her chin, and she wrapped her arms around him as she murmured, "The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness." She brought up a hand, caressing the side of his head as she whispered, "Each of you has told me as some point that I am not what I am. But I know deep down that none of you meant it. And each time I heard it, it hurt...but forgiveness is a good thing when used."

"To err is human...to forgive...divine."

She smiled at his quote and squeezed him gently. "I love you, Damian...my beautiful baby boy."

The feeling of tears gathered in his eyes, but he blinked them away, his hand clenching in her shirt as he replied, "I love you too, Umi."

There was a moment of silence between them until, "How come the demon-spawn gets all the love? We were here first."

Damian raised his head, glaring at Tim. "I am Umi's favorite, Drake."

"The hell you are, Tater-tot. If anyone's the favorite, it's me."

"I think you're wrong, Little-wing. Iwas the first. I'm the favorite."

"No one asked you, dickhead."

"Mom! Jason called me a mean name!"

"Mom! Jason called me a mean name!"

"Stop mocking me!"

"Stop mocking me!"

"Mom!"

"Mom!"

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at her two oldest as they began to shove at each other, and eventually, Tim and Damian got into the mess, and she watched their fists and feet fly at each other.

A grunt sounded from beside her and she looked down to see her husband glaring at her. "You just had to get them going this early, didn't you, Mrs. Wayne?"

(Y/N) let out a 'pfft' and leaned down, pressing her lips to his before laying her head on his arm, their foreheads touching. "Yeah...but I know that when they're fighting like this, they're giving each other love."

"Tough love."

She snorted and tickled his side, feeling him jerk away. "But love nonetheless."

He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of someone grunting cut him off. "Mom! Jason won't let me out of this headlock!"

"Mom! Jason won't let me-"

"STOP MOCKING ME, JASON!"

"You're unbearable, Drake! I am Umi's favorite!"

"Keep telling yourself that, oompa-loompa."

"I am not an oompa-loompa!"

(Y/N) sighed and looked at her husband. "Never a dull morning, is it Mr. Wayne?"

He grinned at her but grunted when one of them hit his side. "No, it's not Mrs. Wayne. No, it is not."

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 32

First

Previous

Marinette hugged Damian around his waist, her head resting on top of his. She’d had a long day at work – being a secretary wasn’t easy, especially not when you’re working for someone as important as Bruce Wayne – and she had figured that the best way to relax was to attach herself to her kid.

She hummed, watching as he drew. He’d been steadily improving, especially over the past month or so. What had been the vaguest of blobs had steadily transformed into things. Recognizable things, even. Most of the subjects of his works were just things he saw around the house or, occasionally, animals.

She yawned quietly and closed her eyes, letting time pass her by as she recharged.

The door swung open and she pulled herself back to attention. Tim spared her a grimace as he walked in, and she noticed he had a slight limp. Her eyes flicked over him in search of a visible injury, but either it wasn’t too bad or he had hid it too well for her to find it.

“Are you okay?”

He dropped his duffel bag on the ground and, after closing and locking the door, started trudging over. “Good news is Steph has gotten past the ‘freeze’ response.”

“Bad news is…?” She said slowly, watching him grab an ice pack from the freezer.

“She throws a mean punch,” he grumbled.

“You could’ve blocked it.”

“It’s the first one she’s thrown during a sparring session,” he sighed. “Avoiding it might have discouraged her.”

She shook her head just slightly, amused. He huffed quietly and clambered into bed, then held his hands out for Damian.

“It’s my turn on the baby.”

(Marinette was pretty sure English wasn’t supposed to work like that, but who was she to argue with a native speaker?)

She stuck her tongue out at him, hugging Damian tighter. “Screw you. Hug your ice pack.”

He glared at her for a moment, before something seemed to hit him. He wrapped his arms around both of them and started dragging them into his lap. Marinette squeaked in surprise while Damian complained about how they were “messin’ my pictuwe!”

Tim paid this no mind, lazily resting his head on her shoulder. “Now I have a baby and a Baby,” he said and she didn’t have to look at him to know he had the smuggest grin on his face.

“You’re the worst. Right, Dami?”

“Wowst!” Damian agreed, nodding fervently, much to Tim’s dismay and Marinette’s eternal amusement.

He squeezed them tighter. “Stop turning Dami against me.”

“Stop sucking,” she huffed, but she settled down in his arms and Damian quickly followed suit. For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the quiet scratching of Damian’s colored pencils and their steady breathing. Then, she said: “‘Baby’?”

He snickered quietly. “What? All the sappy couples have terrible nicknames. It’s good for our cover. Want a different one?”

“Ava and Paige are going to hate us more,” Marinette said, grinning now. “And, yes, at least go with something that doesn't make me think of our child.”

He hummed, leaning his head against hers. “I called you darling a while back and you seemed fine with it. Sound good?”

She felt her face redden just slightly and she leaned into him as well. “I mean, sure, but what’s with the sudden interest in our covers? No one’s even questioned us yet.”

“Don’t like your use of ‘yet’,” he teased lightly. “And… I don’t know. It just sunk in, I guess.”

She blinked and craned her neck to look at him, but he was looking down at what Damian was drawing without really seeing. “Are you serious? It’s been, like, two years. It’s taken that long for it to sink in that we’re doing this?”

“Not what I’m talking about.”

Her eyebrows disappeared behind her hairline and she tried to get something from his expression, but he was either calm or carefully managing it.

Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up. “Have you seen what Dami’s drawing?”

Normally, Marinette wouldn’t be distracted so easily, but she happened to glance down and a gasp escaped her lips.

Damian had decided to draw the stereotypical family portrait that every kid in every movie did, the three vaguely humanoid figures (painstakingly labeled ‘tim’, ‘mari’, and ‘me’ in the shakiest lettering she had ever seen) all holding hands. The sun in the corner had sunglasses, a classic. The flowers doodled at their feet were almost as tall as Damian was.

She squeezed him tighter, unable to keep the smile on her face. “Cutie,” she cooed.

“I call dibs on keeping it in my wallet.”

“No, it’s mine, I want it on my desk,” Marinette said.

“Spar me for it?” Tim responded, pressing a tiny kiss to her shoulder. “It’s only fair.”

“Not at all! I’m out of practice and you know it!”

“And I’m injured,” he argued, but she could feel him grinning against her skin.

She huffed. “Keep this up and you’ll be even more injured.”

“Threatening domestic violence? How terrible of you, darling.”

Marinette’s voice squeaked.

Tim did a cartoonishly evil laugh. “The picture’s mine!”

“Hey, wait a minute –!”

~

Tim sat at the counter, his eyebrows furrowed together as he searched through webpage after webpage.

They had agreed to start Damian’s schooling early for many reasons.

The main one was that they needed him to be educated if they even wanted to have a chance of fooling Bruce and even if they could have somehow taught him at the insanely accelerated pace that he had had in his original life… they found that they didn’t want to. There was no way in hell that they would put that much stress on a child, and especially not their child. So, this was the next best thing. Start his schooling when he was only just about to be three, maybe do some tutoring at home, and hope that’ll somehow be enough to fool the World’s Greatest Detective.

(A smaller, only slightly less important reason included the fact that he would look so cute in a uniform.)

“Should we do a private school?” Asked Marinette, looking over his shoulder as she attempted to do a French braid in Damian’s hair in hopes that it might help alleviate the frizziness.

He considered this. Money wasn’t a problem, WE was exceptionally generous and paid for the schooling of their workers’ kids, but…

“I dunno, he’d have to get in,” Tim said, sighing and closing his laptop.

She hummed a little in understanding. “Don’t get how they expect a portfolio from a two-year-old.”

He snickered quietly, spinning the barstool around to look at them. Marinette had, somehow, managed to make a somewhat nice braid circling his head and was now carefully setting little snippets of her herbs in his hair.

There was a couple of moments where Tim wondered if she would murder him if he messed up Damian’s hair. He looked at her concentrated face, lips pursed in the slightest of frowns and eyes narrowed carefully, and he decided that the answer was probably.

She finished after a couple more moments and held up her phone to take a picture of Damian, who smiled widely the moment he realized what she wanted, and then turned the phone to show him. Damian gasped, eyes wide, then beamed even more, turning to show Tim the phone.

Tim smiled and barely stopped himself from ruffling his hair on instinct, instead opting to pick him up and kiss his nose.

Damian giggled and squirmed in his grip until he could lean forward and wrap his arms around Tim’s neck in a hug.

Marinette pouted playfully. “I do all that work and he hugs you?”

Tim could only shrug helplessly and return the hug. “I mean, it all paid off, I think, you can hardly even tell his hair is frizzy… but do you think you’ll be able to do all that in the morning?”

“Definitely not. ” She sighed. “And, I guess, with how much stuff he does at the daycare it would probably get undone pretty quick… unless I can get Ava to protect him…? No, she has other things to do… but…” Marinette descended into mumbling.

Tim, however, made up for her quieting by gasping loudly as an idea hit him. “Your friend, Ava, works in a daycare, right? Think she has any experience with the whole ‘preschool portfolios’ thing?”

Marinette’s head jerked up in surprise before her eyes lit up. “It’s gotta be worth a shot, right?”

~

Marinette blinked as a phone screen was shoved in her face, jerking her head back slightly so she could actually see what was on it.

“... no,” she said, glancing away from the screen just in time to watch Tim’s smile drop.

“Aw, why?” He complained. “I’ve never been to one before!”

Marinette didn’t question why. Tim was plenty rich enough in the other world to go to ball games, so it was either due to his terrible parents or because Gotham was a terrible place without any fun. Instead, she just sighed and said: “I’ve watched a baseball game before, it’s so boring. Trust me, you’re not missing out.”

Tim huffed and put his phone away. “C’mon, it’s almost my birthday!”

“It’s almost my birthday, too. And, actually, my birthday is first so mine supersedes yours. Loser.”

He pouted and slumped beside her on the couch, practically boneless, until he could rest his head on her lap. “Not how it works.”

She snickered, absently running the hand that wasn’t absently scrolling down the Interflix home page in search of something interesting through his hair. “Dami would hate us if we went, y’know.”

He, somehow, managed to sink further. “Not like one of our friends couldn’t babysit him…”

Marinette looked down at him, which was definitely a mistake because he was giving her what had to be the best puppy eyes she’d ever seen.

He latched onto the weakness immediately, grabbing her hand and giving a pleading expression. “C’mon, it’s just one night, right?”

… so that was how she ended up at the baseball stadium, wearing an overlarge Gotham Knights jersey (courtesy of Tim, who she doubted even knew who the player on her back was). She tugged at the weird-feeling fabric, trying to figure out why people paid so much for them, only to nearly get tackled out of her seat by an overexcited Tim.

She barely caught herself before they could crash into the person next to them and he had the decency to give a sheepish smile before handing over the cotton candy he had promised.

They settled down in their seats. Tim had suggested ‘offhandedly’ mentioning that they were going to a ballgame to Bruce to see if the man paid for front row seats for them, but she had socked him in the arm for the suggestion. So, they were currently about as far back as they could be while still being able to see the field.

“I still hate you, you know,” she said, though her glare was diminished by the fact that her face was buried in a fluffy pink mess of cotton candy.

Tim grinned, tearing off a piece for himself and tugging her closer.

The game was dreadfully boring. Marinette understood playing them, but sitting still and watching other people play baseball just made her feel weird and antsy.

But, she glanced over at Tim and saw him at rapt attention, leaning forward in his seat as much as he could without dragging her forward as well as he watched everything play out. His eyes were curved into a bright smile as they followed the ball around the field.

… maybe it wasn’t so bad, she thought, focusing on her cotton candy once again.

… but also if Tim ever tried to get her to go to a ballgame again she was going to jump from whatever seats he bought for them.

~~~~~

Next

@unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff @toodaloo-kangaroo @queenz-z @imarivers8 @jeminiikrystal @adrestar @twsssmlmaa @literaryhiraeth @trippingovermyfeet @ev-cupcake

[justcourttee]

Adrien asks mari out and she says i would of been so happy in the past but now its too little to late. She's engaged to Damian but they haven't announced it yet

Bittersweet

It had been a while since Adrien had found himself in Gotham City. Too many years to count on his hand. Yet when he received an invite from Marinette he didn’t hesitate to hop on the next flight to attend her gala.

He had no idea that she had created a partnership with Wayne Enterprises, in fact, he had no idea they were interested in the fashion world at all. Then again, why should he be surprised? When Marinette put her mind to something, nothing would get in her way.

Ever since he had taken over his father’s company, Adrien hadn’t had much time to keep up with his old school friends but it hadn’t stopped them from trying to keep him in the loop. From what he could gather, Alya and Nino would also be attending, Rose and Juleka too. It would be nice to see them all again, especially Marinette.

Stepping out from the warmth of his hotel room and into the cool streets, Adrien couldn’t help but let his mind drift to thoughts of her.

It took Marinette moving to the States for him to realize how much he was in love with her. It was something he never wanted to admit seeing how much he adored Ladybug, but as she disappeared from his grasps, he was left to face his true feelings.

Glancing at his phone, Adrien confirmed that he was mere minutes away from the address she had listed. The gala was still a few days away, but Marinette asked if he had wanted to meet up for a late-night coffee, a Gotham specialty. Even her scarf that she had gifted him ages ago couldn’t hide the red on his cheeks as he imagined the perfect date with the girl of his dreams.

He paused, reaching the door of Deja Brew, his heart beating a million miles a minute. Somewhere in this late-night shop was his best friend. How would she react to seeing him again? Would she be as excited as he was? Would she feel the same way as she did?

Taking a deep breath, he pushed through the door, his eyes glancing through the scattered exhausted customers until they landed on her. She still hadn’t noticed his presence, her nose buried into her sketchbook, her coffee still steaming beside her seemingly untouched.

She was early.

The thought almost drew a laugh as he approached the counter to place his order. Of course she would have finally picked up some time management skills by now. Marinette was 27 and slowly making a name for herself as the future of the fashion industry. That wasn’t something accomplished by constant tardiness.

He picked up his cup, placing a ten into the tip jar, the hostess’ raised eyebrows making him smile. He could already hear his father scolding him. After all, that wasn’t the way to becoming a billionaire. You only make money by holding onto it.

Honestly, Adrien didn’t understand why he had to be a billionaire. His father said it would raise the bar for their line, but it just wasn’t in Adrien’s heart to hoard all of the money unnecessarily. Maybe the Waynes offered Marinette the same advice. Maybe they had something they could relate to together.

“Excuse me ma’am, is this seat taken?”

His heart had finally slowed down but as her eyes slowly peeked up at him under her lashes, it immediately began somersaulting once more.

“Oh Gods, Adrien!” She was out of her seat before he even had the chance to set down his coffee, her arms flung around his neck. He hoped and prayed she couldn’t feel his chest threatening to explode. “You should have said something! I’ve gotten into the bad habit of zoning out in public places.”

Her smile was blinding as she unwound herself, slipping back into her seat, motioning for him to sit as well.

“How was the flight? Did you fly private or first class?”

Adrien gasped, his hand covering his chest as if she had shot him.

“I only flew business thank you very much.” Marinette’s look of mock disbelief earned a small chuckle.

“That must have been so hard for you. I really am sorry you went through so much trouble for my sake.”

“You know, I would go through so much more for you Marinette.”

Her smile faltered for a moment, so quick that if he hadn’t been staring so hard at her, he might have missed it. Did his statement make her uncomfortable? He had only meant it jokingly with the truth laced in, but he was sure his eyes gave him away. They always softened when it came to her.

Marinette cleared her voice, her true smile shining once more as if the falter never happened in the first place.

“You’ve missed so much, I don’t even know where to start.”

“How about from the beginning?” She nodded as she dove into her move to the States and how she began as an intern for the CEO, Tim Drake, years ago and slowly worked her way up to personal assistant.

She recounted how Tim found her sketchbook at work one day and showed it to his father. Together they agreed that she was their way into the fashion industry, an investment that could open the door to many more jobs for the Gotham citizens.

It took two years, but she finally had a full line that was presented at Bruce’s first fashion show.

“So many big names were there Adrien! I really thought I was gonna faint!”

His smile became softer and softer as she recounted meeting the rest of the Waynes and finally after six long years, she had made enough of a name for herself to be holding her own official Gala, the Wayne’s simply a sponsor.

“That’s amazing Marinette, you’re amazing.”

She beamed proudly, her smile pulling at his heart.

“I couldn’t have done it without them. They are genuine and kind people and they are pretty much family.” Something glistened in her eyes as she spoke of them. It could have been obvious to anyone, Marinette cared so deeply for these people.

It was Adrien’s turn to falter as an ugly thought passed.

She’s so comfortable here, she would never want to come back to Paris with me.

He was shocked with himself. This was no time for jealousy. His best friend, the love of his life, was excitedly telling him about a future she had built for herself and the only thing he could think was that it was an obstacle keeping her from him?

Adrien desperately wanted to smack his own forehead, but for Marinette’s sake he straightened out his smile instead.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve only been talking about myself! What’s new with you? How’s your dad’s business? Do you have anyone you’re seeing?”

His eyebrow raised at the last question. She asked the question he so desperately wanted to ask her. And she did it so casually, equating it to his work and social life. Did that mean she was also fishing for his response?

“Nothing much. Dad wants to move from a multi-million dollar business to a multi-billion dollar business so he’s been pretty aggressive about money lately. He didn’t even want me flying over here for the gala.”

Marinette snorted much to his amusement. She knew how his dad was and how petty he could be as well.

“And as for your last question,” he paused watching her face carefully. “No, I am not seeing anyone.”

He waited for the reaction, any reaction really. But none came. Instead, she simply nodded as if she expected as much. Maybe he had read into it too much. She really could’ve just been asking for the sake of catching up. Should he ask too? Was that what she was leading up to?

Adrien cleared his throat before taking a long draw from his cup. This was so nerve wracking. She looked so content, so grown. This was a Marinette who had grown leaps and bounds while he was still stuck in this high school romance that was quite possibly one-sided.

“Well, I hate to cut it short but it’s going to be a long day tomorrow and Damian will be here any moment to pick me up.”

She slid out of her seat so effortlessly, her sketch book snapping shut before it disappeared into a bag that he hadn’t even noticed. Her smile was just as warm as he remembered, but something was missing from the girl he loved.

“Your eyes.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Marinette’s smile faltered as she tentatively reached up to touch her eyelid, confusion etching it’s way into her face.

“Is there something near my eyes Adrien?”

“No, no, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I just-” Adrien bit his lip, trying to string his thoughts together before he sounded even more like an idiot. “You used to stare at me with such soft look. I’m sorry I never noticed, but once I did, it was all I could see. Yet now-”

He trailed off as her lips drew into an o, her hand moving slowly from her eye to her lips, trying to hide her shock.

“-now, I can still feel the love in them, love directed at me, but it’s not the same love is it?”

She looked like she wanted to say something, but she couldn't find the right words. He knew she was trying to explain that he was wrong, but couldn’t bring herself to lie. It was the only confirmation he needed.

He slid out of the booth, his hand grasping the scarf slipping from his neck.

“Marinette, I was so excited when you invited me out tonight. In fact, I thought of it as a date.” She tried to reach out, but Adrien took a step back, tears brimming in his eyes. “I don’t blame you at all, please don’t think I’m saying all this to make you feel guilty. I just had to get it off my chest.”

Adrien blinked hard, trying to spill the tears clouding his vision. This was harder to say than he thought. Her eyes were so distracting, the sympathy oozing toward him in waves.

“I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I know you’ve made your life here and I would never dream of taking that from you. Hell, if you asked me to, I would drop everything to be at your side in an instance. Is there any chance at all that after the gala ends, we could give this a shot? Just one real date. Not some deluded fantasy I created in my head, but something we both consent to.”

He flinched when her hand finally made contact with his upper arm.

“Adrien, I love you. I really do. But you were right when you said my eyes had changed. That soft look is meant for someone else now. He and I had tried to keep our relationship quiet, but tomorrow at the gala, I was going to announce my engagement to Damian.”

Adrien couldn’t help the small sob that left his mouth. He was painfully aware of the few scattered glances all directed toward him, but he couldn’t help it. He felt Marinette pulling his head down until it laid resting on her shoulder, her small arms wrapping around his figure. It was embarrassing how hard he cried, unable to hold back his sobs any longer.

“I’m so sorry Adrien, I had no idea your feelings had changed. You were always chasing after a dream when we were younger and when I left Paris, I had finally decided that there wasn’t a chance after all between us.”

He knew she meant her words as a comfort, a promise that at one point, she would have gladly accepted his offer. Why couldn’t he have seen it earlier? Why was he so blinded by a partner who never even revealed herself right to the end? He had someone who trusted and loved him with all of their being and he ignored their feelings for a what if.

Adrien slowly pulled himself from her grasp, his smile shaky. He took a moment to use the end of his scarf to dry his soaked face.

“I’m glad you told me that Marinette. I really am. And I hope you and Damian have a long and prosperous life together.”

Her eyes widened, her mouth forming the wait, but he was already out of the door, running. It was a cowards move, one he would mull over all night. But it was too painful to look into the eyes of one you love and only find pity reflecting in them.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“So you came?”

Adrien turned, his smile bittersweet as he embraced Alya, his fist connecting with Nino’s outstretched hand.

“How could I not support her? She’s worked so hard to make this a reality. My feelings can take a backburner for one night.”Their eyes all trailed to the center of the room where she stood, her arm threaded through with the man he assumed to be Damian Wayne. “Besides, you can tell. She loves that man beside her more than anything in this world.”

The glint of the ring on her finger caused an aching in his heart. Despite it all, he really did wish the Wayne boy no ill will. If he was who Marinette chose to spend the rest of her life with, then Adrien trusted her decision.

“I’ve never seen her smile so bright. And to think, I used to believe her smile was at its maximum blindlingness.” Nino’s chuckle earned a small chuckle from Adrien as well.

There was no denying it.

Marinette was where she belonged. The only thing left was for him to support her in any way that he could. And that was exactly what he planned to do.

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[myrandomfandomramblings]

Chenford fanfic - In which Tamara gives Lucy and Tim the push they need (but only after completely freaking Tim out)

Tamara was pretty sure Tim and Lucy had feelings for each other and decided to take it upon herself to nudge them forward. She was meeting Lucy for lunch today at the food trucks and was looking forward to putting her plan in motion. However, before Lucy got there Tim did and he sat down opposite Tamara to eat his lunch and talk. She could work with that.

“I bet I can describe your ideal woman and future wife,” Tamara says bluntly a few minutes into their conversation.

Tim just rolls his eyes, “What are you a psychic now or something. Did you see my future in your crystal ball?”

“No. But I do know who you’re going to marry. She’s younger than you. Gorgeous. Dark hair and eyes. The perfect height for you to kiss her forehead. She’s smart and kind and really tough, and has never given up despite the obstacles in her path. And you already think of her as family.”

Tim was so confused he didn’t even interrupt. He was completely lost until he remembered himself as a teenager, convinced he was going to marry his high school crush. Could Tamara really think anything could happen between them? Tim thought of her as a daughter and the thought of what she was implying made him sick.

“I need some air,” he managed to say as he got up and walked away without ever even looking at Tamara. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he ran right into Lucy who was making her way towards the table he had just vacated. 

Lucy was about to tease Tim for bumping into her but the words died when she saw his expression.

“Are you OK?” Lucy asked, “You look shaken.”

“I…,” he began not sure what to say, “I need you to talk with Tamara. I think she has a crush on me and I can’t deal with that. It’s too weird. I need you to set her straight.”

Lucy’s concerned expression had morphed into poorly contained laughter as Tim talked.

“What could possibly make you think Tamara has a crush on you. You know she thinks of you as a father figure. She literally calls you Dadford.” 

“She said she knew who I was going to marry, then described herself.”

“She said you were going to marry a previously homeless 19 year-old, who stole a police officer’s car, then convinced the officer to let her keep the car before selling said car?” Lucy asked clearly amused.

“Not that specific but I swear she was describing herself.”

“What exactly did she say?”

“Younger than me, pretty with dark eyes and hair, tough, smart, kind, has overcome obstacles, and about this tall,” Tim finished holding his hand about level with his nose.

“Oh and she said I already think of her as family.”

“Ok I’ll give it to you that Tamara fits all that criteria but she could be describing someone else.”

“Like who?” Tim questioned.

“Angela or Nyla for two,” Lucy offered pointing at the two woman who were currently enjoying their lunches.

Tim made a face. “I guess but what would make her think I’d marry either of them. They’re like my sisters. Plus Angela’s happily married with a new baby.”

Lucy shrugged. “I’ll talk to Tamara if it will make you feel better,” she offered.

“Thank-you,” Tim said as he let out a relieved sigh. “I have to get back on patrol but let me know what she says.”

“Will do,” Lucy replied before heading towards Tamara.

“So what were you and Officer Zaddy talking about?” Tamara asks as soon as Lucy sits down.

“You, actually,” Lucy offered “You freaked him out pretty good.”

“I didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know deep down,” Tamara replied.

“Which is that he’s going to marry…?” she drew out the last word into a question hoping Tamara would finish the sentence.

“You.”

“What!” Lucy exclaimed having been completely taken off guard.

“Well it’s obvious to everybody else that there’s something between you two. I was just trying to move things along. I didn’t mean to freak him out.” 

Lucy was so overwhelmed that she quickly pushed all thoughts of Tim to the deepest, darkest corner of her mind and changed the subject. She was able to get through the rest of lunch without any mention of him and lucky for her the rest of her shift was busy, providing the perfect distraction. 

However, when her shift ended and she left the station she could no longer avoid her thoughts and the feelings Tamara’s comment had stirred in her. Especially when the object of said thoughts was in the parking garage, leaning against his truck, seemingly waiting for her.

“Hey,” he greeted pushing off of his truck to meet her, “how’d your talk with Tamara go?” 

“Good,” Lucy replied feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, “she does not have a crush on you so you can stop freaking out.”

“Good. But I was not freaking out,” Tim countered.

“You kind of were. It looked like you had seen a ghost,” Lucy teased.

“Well can you blame me?”

“No, but it’s all good now. Go home and get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Lucy said heading towards her car.

“Wait if she wasn’t talking about herself. Who was she talking about?” Tim asked.

“Maybe we’ll never know,” Lucy offered still facing away from him knowing that if she turned around her flushed cheeks would give her away.

“I can tell you’re lying. Out with it Chen.” Tim demanded in his best TO voice.

Lucy turned to face him but kept her head down and eyes fixed on the floor.

“She was talking about me,” she finally said barely above a whisper.

“You? Oh?” Tim finished then trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. That actually made sense. When he had thought of Tamara, or Angela or Nyla as his future wife he had felt kind of grossed out but when he thought of Lucy he felt different, hopeful?

When the silence stretched on Lucy felt the need to fill it and hopefully break some of the tension.

“Crazy, right?” she offered finally looking up from the floor.

“Is it?” he asked meeting her gaze, “I mean we already kind of act like a couple. We’re each other’s emergency contacts. You are the first person I want to talk to when something happens, good or bad. We spend at least half of our time off together. Whenever I’m in a crowded room my eyes always look for you. There’s nobody’s opinion I value more than yours. For heaven’s sake I was buying a new Bbq brush the other night and I kept thinking “which one would Lucy like?’ 

Lucy let out a short laugh before speaking around the the lump that had formed in her throat. “I really don’t care about Bbq brushes,” she admitted, “you on the other hand I care about a great deal and the fact that you think of me when you’re buying things for your house means a lot.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Tim quipped cutting through the heaviness of the moment with their familiar banter.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she laughed “but now that I know tough guy, Tim Bradford does sappy speeches I’m going to need more of that in my life.” A playful smile appeared on her face as she stepped forward and took his hands.

“I think that can be arranged,” he offered before tenderly placing a kiss on her forehead. “But you can’t tell anyone, I have a reputation to protect.”

Lucy rolled her eyes but since her head was currently rested on his chest. Tim didn’t see. “If what Tamara said is true it seems everybody already knows. They saw right through your hardshell to your gooey centre. You should just embrace it.”

“Fine,” Tim relented, “speaking of Tamara it seems we might owe her some sort of thank-you.”

“Let’s see how the first date goes first,” Lucy teased pulling just far enough away from him to meet his eyes. “We both have tomorrow off so I’m thinking a midnight stroll along the beach. I hear the bioluminescence is currently beautiful. And I think it’s a full moon tonight. We can stop for food on the way. There’s this great little taco truck that’s open late.” As Lucy talked they made their way to Tim’s truck and he opened the passenger door for her. “We should probably grab Kojo too. He’s already been alone all day. If we’re lucky we might even catch the tail end of the sunset. And if you’re really lucky there may even be some skinny dipping involved.” At that Tim raised his brows at her but didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to interrupt her train of thought. He missed listening to her ramble. And as she continued about grabbing towels and letting Jackson know not to worry when she didn’t come home tonight. It reminded Tim of the countless hours they had spent shoulder to shoulder, just like this. Her musical voice filling the shop while they patrolled. That was over a year ago now and although this felt familiar it also felt different, new, exciting. But most of all it felt like home. 

[spooky-z]

[1/3]Bombshell Dupain-Cheng: YSSMIAC

Masterlist  Maribat by @ozmav​

Bombshell: The AU // 0, 1, 2, 3

Ships: Lukadaminette, Jondrien, Chlolix, Feligami, Kimax

Warnings: Language

2.6K

Chapter title: you should see me in a crown

You should see me in a crown Your silence is my favorite sound Watch me make 'em bow One by, one by one 

Here's: Marinette and Kagami didn't expect the transformation to be so outrageously obvious.

Of course, Diana had warned the teenagers that it could happen, but- again, they didn't think it would be so drastic. The growing pains had been, well, a pain. A brutal one.

If Marinette was being bitter, she would blame Tikki for this happening to her and her miraculous partners, but she knew for a fact that it was not the fault of the kwamis for this lack of information.

It was the first time since the world was created, that the miraculous were given to literal children. So, for that reason the side effects were something unknown. But they believed that they had already discovered all the effects after five years wielding the jewelry.

Diana was able to destroy any idea they had about it, since none of them noticed the biggest and most obvious side effect of the miraculous:

They were trapped in underdeveloped bodies for seventeen/eighteen-year-olds teenagers. And that wasn't just because their genetics made them look more youthful, no. The active use of Ladybug’s cure was slowing the aging journey of the other heroes, as they were the hardest hit by healing magic.

So, when Diana - Wonder Woman - invited the miraculous female team to Themyscira to correct this problem with the Amazons, Marinette, Kagami, Chloe and Alix did not hesitate to accept.

The men's team had already been invited by Arthur Curry - Aquaman - because men were not allowed on Themyscira, but also because training with Arthur would be more ideal for them than that of the Amazons.

Zatanna encouraging and assuring the heroes that she would maintain a blocking spell throughout Paris to prevent Hawkmoth from acting.

They left their homes with an excuse to travel the world. Adrien was a little more difficult to get out of Gabriel's claws, but in the end, with Bruce Wayne's call, Adrien was able to leave Paris alone with friends. They were ready.

That's when Marinette suffered.

Starting with all the miraculous having to be resigned in order for the effect of magic to expunge faster, the box being kept safe in Themyscira. And then with the infernal training that the Amazons put them through.

Before, Marinette and Kagami prided themselves on being the most agile and sharp in the fights against akumas, but being in Themyscira showed that they did not even reach the feet of the youngest warriors in the island.

So, it was already clear that if Kagami and Marinette were having problems, Chloe and Alix felt death touching their souls with affection.

(The boys also suffered in those months in Atlantis. Arthur was not at all merciful in teaching them.)

Anyway, when the two and a half month mark reached, the physical changes were simply too glaring to go through a simple growth spurt.

Marinette never envied Chloe and Alix so much for not being predisposed to be tall naturally.

Of all four, Marinette grew the most in height without the influence of the miraculous. She may or may not have cried when she reached 5'11” with Kagami and Hippolyta said she would still grow a few inches.

She didn't care much for stretch marks on her joints, but she complained about the growing pains. Kagami was not very vocal, but the grimaces of pain she let out did not let anyone be fooled.

But even with the pain, the teachings and the struggles, Marinette was happy that they were finally having the right mentoring to guide them. Fu had left very early, much of his knowledge was not passed on.

○○○

After almost struggling to free Marinette from Chloe, they left the blonde sleeping on the brunette's bed while she showered.

Alix ate a croissant, Damian and Luka talked about strategies against Hawkmoth and Plume.

"I already talked to Zatanna and she will release the blocking barrier in three days, just so Hawkmoth doesn't suspect anything." Damian looked at Alix, attracting the young woman's attention. "It would be very suspicious if the barrier was broken just on the same day that Dupont's classes returned."

Alix nodded in agreement. "Did she say anything about tracking the miraculous?"

Luka sighed despondently. "No. She will probably only make it when they are active, meaning- “

"We will have to wait for Plume and Hawkmoth to attack again to get any leads."

Marinette came into the room, fully dressed - a black skater dress with the pattern of delicate cherry blossoms, reaching a few inches above the knee, v-neck and short sleeves; white liner socks - and dry hair stuck in a messy bun, leaving the bangs framing the pretty face.

Luka and Damian swallowed at the glorious sight. She managed to be strong and cute at the same time. And it destroyed them so good.

"He should attack as soon as he feels the barrier is gone." Alix replied and it took both of them out of inappropriate thoughts. Marinette's knowing look showed that she knew exactly where the boyfriends' minds ran.

"And that is why we will be making a war council in half an hour." She reached for the pair of white sneakers on the shoe rack and tucked them in her feet, the laces already tied. “Everyone has already been warned. I will be delivering the miraculous and we will make plans on how to take down Hawkmoth for good.”

"... But first we have to wake Chloe." Luka points. "Who's going to be the unlucky one?"

○○○

After managing to wake Chloe without resulting in a murder, they were quick to leave Marinette's home for Fu's massage parlor, the current headquarters of the miraculous team and where Zatanna had lived for three months when they were away.

"We are here, losers!" Alix announced pompously.

Upon arriving, they found Adrien talking to Jon in a corner; Max, Tim and Barbara on the computer browsing documents that appeared to be important; Félix and Kagami sat at the big table - which Adrien insisted on calling the round table and Marinette found it unnecessary - analyzing a detailed hologram of the streets of Paris.

No sign of Kim or Zatanna yet.

The entry of the five drew everyone's attention; Tim and Felix's eyes doubled in size as they focused on Marinette.

"What the hell, Mari?!" Tim choked on his words.

"This is what I call transformation." Barbara commented amusedly.

“Everyone has undergone drastic changes, Drake. I'm sure you didn't react that way when you saw the others.” Marinette replied.

"Of course not! Nobody came here looking like an Amazon.”

Kagami coughed against the fist, eyebrow raised.

"Okay, I take back what I said." Tim raises his hands in surrender. "But you have to agree with me, Marinette is the most surprising change here."

Adrien nodded frantically in agreement. “When you showed up at school earlier, everyone was shocked. I hardly recognized you.”

Max and Felix scoffed. "Yes, we noticed the warm looks you were shooting at Mari." Max pointed out causing Adrien to choke in embarrassment.

“Oh, is that so? Interesting." Damian murmured, a frankly murderous look on his face. He had already taken the seat next to Felix.

"What? No! You got it wrong.” Adrien stammered, his cheeks red.

“Okay, Adrien. I'm not jealous." Luka said. The malicious curve in the corner of his mouth making it clear that the musician was loving seeing the model turn into a hot mess in front of everyone.

"Luka!" Adrien groaned painfully and turned to Jon. “You know it's not true, right? Everyone knows that I only have eyes for you.” He pouted.

The brunette put his arm around the blonde's waist, bringing him a little closer. “Of course, I know dear. I totally trust my charm.” He winked seductively; Adrien's blush only growing in intensity.

The two of them seeming to forget that their friends were there.

"Ugh, nobody deserves to watch these two making out with their eyes." Chloe moaned on the chair, still drowsy and irritated at being woken up.

"Think on the bright side!" Marinette said happily.

"What would it be...?"

"At least this time they are dressed and aware that there are other people in the room." Kim replied upon entering.

"... I think we better split them up before they really forget we're here." Kagami pointed a finger at the two boys who had started a kiss in a way that, in her opinion, should be inappropriate for people under fifty.

"Does anyone have a spray bottle?" Damian asked.

And Marinette stopped to analyze the physical changes in her team.

So, the fact was: yes, Marinette was the person with the greatest physical change among the miraculous group. Because in addition to the height, she got muscles (which she didn't have before). It wasn't something like a body builder would be, but it also made it clear that she had a pretty intense exercise routine.

Kagami had also grown a lot, losing to Mari by just a few inches. Even before wielding the dragon's miraculous, she had already developed some muscle due to the intense fencing routine; so, the only things that had changed was the increase in body mass around the shoulders, biceps and calves.

Alix didn't grow much, just two inches from what she was before, and the muscles in her body hadn't been developed as visibly as the two asian girls. She had a better definition, elasticity and mobility had improved dramatically.

Chloe was the only one of the four parisian heroines who had no visible change. She remained thin and flexible, with no pronounced hard muscles. Diana had said that the blonde's body was the type that hid her power. The deceptive, fragile type, but who was agile and fatal. Which suited Chloe.

Of the boys, the shock had been Damian. Damian, who, like Marinette, was one of the smallest on the team - followed by Alix and Max - reached his desired height of 6’3”; surpassing both Bruce and Jason, the tallest in the Wayne family.

But that didn't surprise Marinette or Tim, since Damian's parents were both quite tall. They hoped that eventually Damian would start to grow like a weed.

Anyway. While Damian did not grow muscle mass like a brick house like Jason, his shoulders grew broad and powerful, biceps pronounced, muscles lean and defined. He achieved a perfect match between raw power and agility.

Luka surprisingly hasn't changed much. He put a few inches more - taller than Marinette by just an inch, but smaller than Damian by four - but his muscles didn't grow. They just became more defined. And Marinette understood that.

Among all of them, Luka, Alix and Max were the ones who least physically attacked akumas; sometimes they even stayed out of the fight, as their powers were only for a very critical situation.

Adrien somehow still had room to grow. You see, it wasn't like he was short before; for a twelve-year-old boy - before wielding the ring - he was already quite tall, so even with the magic interfering, he still had a decent height for a teenager.

Then discover that there was still room for him to reach Damian? That was surprising.

Unlike Luka, Adrien gained muscle mass. The blonde, over the years, showed that there was no mercy when it came to eating. He never refused food, always chewing what he could as if there was no tomorrow, since at home, his diet was strict. But even with that, he never gained weight.

Always the same skinny boy as always. So skinny that Sabine had made it her life's mission to fatten the Agreste boy. (Which did not work, but it did not diminish the determination of the Chinese woman.)

Then, without the interference of magic, Adrien grew up.

The boy who was once skin and bone, now looked like the blonde version with green eyes of Kim. He didn't get uncomfortably muscular, but the muscle tone he got was insane. Even wearing a hoodie that was supposed to be 2x bigger than its ideal size, it was possible to see that some corners of the seams were stretched on the shoulders and chest.

Gabriel probably burst a vein when he saw his son's transformation. The more youthful Adrien looked, the better it was for him to sell the image of "teenage prince".

Kim was the least surprised, as he was already big even for a teenager. In addition to his shoulders - which became broader - he grew a few inches, bumping head-on with Marinette and Luka. The chest remained strong and his body seemed to have no problem staying flexible.

Félix followed the same path as Luka - which Marinette secretly thanked, since finding a bodybuilder Félix would be beyond strange -, remaining tall and elegant. Lean, well-defined muscles. He remembered Chloe's changes. Silent, but fatal.

He was also in the race for whoever got higher with Adrien and Damian.

Max, on the other hand, must not have grown more than five inches. His muscle tone did not grow at an alarming rate either, remaining mostly thin, but looking agile. Like a person who runs five miles every morning without losing his breath or sweating.

Which was good, since Max was never a fitness person and everyone knew it. If he appeared like a damn monster truck out of nowhere - like Marinette, Kagami and Adrien - it would make people ask even more and they didn't want to attract more attention than they were already getting.

All of this, of course, without pointing out the other obvious changes that puberty brought.

The lack of baby fat, sharp jaws, developed curves, deep voices... Marinette managed to get used to her new height, but was not finding peace of mind with the new weight of her chest.

She clapped her hands to get everyone's attention and smiled.

"Let's start?"

And everyone, including the two lovebirds, sat around the table.

They would only leave with a solid plan against Hawkmoth.

BONUS:

"Wow, did you see how some of Ms. Bustier's and Ms. Mendeleiev's students looked different?" Lila heard extra #1 gossip with extra #2.

"I saw it, girl!" Extra #2 responded. "Everyone is saying that they joined a gang."

"Oho, do you believe that?!"

"Well, won't you say that you didn't find Agreste's new appearance strange?"

Lila jumped when she heard the name of one of her enemies. She moved closer to the two girls to hear the conversation better.

It could be something she could use against the ice king.

“Did you see Dupain-Cheng?! That was insane!”

The Italian bristled when she heard Maribrat's name. Still confused about what the two girls were talking about.

She had decided not to go on the first day of school to make a flashy comeback, so what had happened, she didn't know.

"And Adrien?!"

"I know!"

And that was it! Lila needed to know in detail what was going on.

"Excuse me, girls..." She sweetened her voice as much as she could. The two girls looked at her confused. "I wanted to first apologize for listening to your conversation and also to ask what you were talking about..." The ‘poor woman’ expression stuck to her face.

The two girls were even more confused. "Didn't you come yesterday?"

"No. My flight from Achu took longer than expected and I just arrived today.”

"Ah..." Extra #2 waved. “Is that- Ah! In fact, just look back and you will understand!” She said hastily.

Extra #1 looked over Lila's shoulder with a haunted expression. Waving violently.

And when Lila turned... What the fuck was that.

[tag list]

@nightstarblue​ @dreamykitty25​  @phantomroseo3​ @avengerthewarrior​  @guessmyname17​ @luveverything12​ @wannajointhecrabcult​ @chocolate1721​ @polyvirnl​ @enchanted-nerd​ @sandraf0612​ @multi-fandom-freak0221​ @rosalineandrosemary​ @jessigurl-design​ @saays-bitch​ @xxmdsxx​ @nicknnie​ @iamablinkmarvelarmy​ @damianette-is-life​ 

[castleofshit]

just, i want the marble hornets gang going to six flags. i want alex complaining to sara about food prices. i want jessica, amy, and jay making fun of the couples with the awful matching hoodies. i want brian trying to bribe seth and tim to go on superman with him. just all the good fluff. all good times. i hope you feel better soon, and don’t feel bad taking breaks!!

((It might take me three weeks but it's here!!!!!!!!!!! Link to the hoodie referenced in this fic :3 https://www.amazon.com/Trouble-Matching-Hoodie-Sweatshirt-Unisex/dp/B08CLYFND4/ref=sr_1_39?dchild=1&keywords=couple%2Bhoodies%2Bpink&qid=1626150560&sr=8-39&th=1&psc=1 ))

On AO3 if that is your preference

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32547058

It had been at Alex’s insistence, surprisingly. He had said that it was to help them bond, make their acting seem more natural. That some fun would finally get them in the headspace to perform well.

Some of the cast thought it was an excuse to spend time having fun, which was ultimately a good thing with how stressed Kralie had become.

Yet his mood did not seem to be improving as he sat across from Sarah at a dirty picnic table. “Five dollars for a pretzel?”

His voice was incredulous, as if the pricing had personally insulted him, rather than simply being what it has always been.

“Well, no one is forcing you to buy it,” Sarah leaned back amused by Alex’s anger for once. “But I will admit that $5 is too much for a mostly green hot dog. You could get a pack of Hebrew National for less.”

“Exactly! And the audacity to restrict outside food. It’s designed to force you to starve or pay for shitty food.”

Sara dutifully nodded her agreement as someone that Alex failed to notice settled in beside him on the chair.

“Alex, could you hand me my bag?” She asked once he had finished talking.

He reached under the table to grab the bag at his feet without hesitation, handing it to Amy, who took it and dug around for her sunscreen.

As she reapplied it as she spoke, having missed the majority of the conversation, “I think I’m going to get a snack from the concession stand, do you want anything Alex?”

Sarah knew in an instant that his tune was about to change.

“No, but I’ll grab something for you,” He spoke immediately, as though he had no problem with the overpriced nature of the water park food. “I think the pretzel is probably the safest bet,” Sarah smiled casually as she put in her two cents.

She swore Alex’s eye twitched ever so slightly despite the charade of cheerfulness he put on for Amy.

-

“I swear that’s the third sweater I’ve seen like that today.” Jay groaned as a woman, roughly the same age as them walked by in a black sweater that read “The Real Boss.” By now he and his two companions already knew that the matching one worn by her partner, neither of which they had seen yet, read simply “The Boss.”

Jessica sighed, “I don’t get why you would waste money on those. They’re incredibly tacky at best, an awful reminder of a break up at worse.”

Amy hummed in agreement, holding up her hand to pause the conversation as she finished chewing her pretzel. “Or a great break up reminder. Nothing screams failed relationship like the realization you were never equals.”

Jay made a choked noise where he sat while Jessica laughed freely. “You don’t think Alex would wear one of those would you?” She asked innocently.

Amy rolled her eyes, “That doesn’t matter. I’d rather be caught dead than in one of those. I bet they’re made out of that cheap shitty fabric that falls apart after one wash.”

“I don’t know,” Jay drew out, “Maybe we should go check the gift shop and find out.”

It was that easy to convince the other two, with Jessica and Jay both tired of the kid rides, but unwilling to try out any of the larger ones; Amy on the other hand was ready to spend time with other members of the group, at this point tired of helping Brian try to convince Alex and Sarah to ride the Superman with him; she knew it was a losing battle, and quietly abandoned the pair to his pestering.

That brought the group into a chilly gift shop, looking at a display of couple hoodies.

“Huh, it actually doesn’t feel too bad,” Amy commented, after holding the sleeve of one, “Kind of thick for summer though.”

“A jacket’s a jacket.” Jessica sang, “Hey check out this one!”

She pulled a grey pair off the rack.

“Think we could get Brian and Tim to wear these?”

The three exchanged looks- it might force them to attend club events across university to eat for a week or two, but it would be so worth it.

-

“Come on, it'll be fun,” Brian drew out the words to Tim, Seth trailing not far behind them, having already been convinced into the upcoming shenanigans by the star of Marble Hornets.

“And I already said no.” Tim stated firmly, unamused by his best friend's request. He hadn’t really wanted to come on the trip in the first place, and had spent most of it tailing near Brian, when he wasn’t busy fidgeting with the lighter in his pocket.

He ended up coming as it would be out of place for him to be the only cast member missing, and because Amy had asked him nicely (and promised to make the oatmeal cookies he adored for snacks on the drive up). Brian having listened in on the conversation, offered to even drive for him, which sealed the deal; despite Tim fully expected he’d drive back with Brian being thoroughly exhausted after the day outside.

“But I won’t be able to survive without my bestie,” Brian whined.

Seth snorted behind him, “Leave him be if he doesn’t want to go.”

Tim nodded his thanks, “Seth will make up for me, he’ll make sure you live through the experience.”

Seth mock saluted from behind Brian.

“It’s not the same though,” Brian pouted.

“What? Having an actually enjoyable experience rather than being covered in my hurl? Yeah I imagine it is quite different,” Tim was only half joking, but Brian couldn’t tell.

“Well, you’ll have to come on with us and prove it.”

Well...Tim was never one to back down from Brian’s almost dares- even if he already knew the outcome. Sometimes it really was about proving a point with that man.

Seth glanced between the pair, concern evident on his face. Just in case, he’d have to make sure he sat two rows in front of them.

-

“To be fair, I warned you.” Tim spoke leaning heavily against the bathroom wall, flannel damp and draped across his arm from where he had rinsed it. He was lucky to have a plain undershirt that had been unaffected.

Brian, not so much. “I didn’t think you were serious!” he exclaimed from behind the bathroom stall. He stuck his hand out under the stall, holding his t-shirt out for Tim.

Tim took it, handing Brian the still wet flannel, “That’s as dry as I could get it with the hand driers,”

Somehow the flannel had ended up less of a mess than Brian’s shirt. Brian swore it was intentional as he buttoned up the blue-black patterned shirt.

“You sure you don’t just want to throw this out?” Tim asked as he began to rinse off the green t-shirt, doing what he could to save it. He could already tell it was going to stain pretty bad.

Just as he began, a familiar shape slid up to the sink next to him.

“Hey- is that Brian’s shirt?” Jay asked, pumping soap onto his hands. Tim nodded solemnly, while Jay’s face lit up.

It was slightly concerning. “Hey Bri?”

After receiving the most irritated “What?” either had ever heard from the man, Jay almost sang.

“Jessica, Amy and I got something for you.”

Tim ended up leaving the bathroom with his still damp flannel, while Brian now wore a grey hoodie that read in bold text:

“I get us into trouble.”

Alex laughed harder than any of them, even Amy, had heard in weeks when Seth gave him the simplified version of the story.

[prettyoddfever]

the makeup styles Ryan Ross wore in summer 2006:

All four guys in P!ATD started wearing makeup at the beginning of the summer tour with Lucent Dossier (but to varying degrees ha). Dream Rockwell was originally doing their makeup each night, which is why so many of the looks were close to what the Lucent Dossier performers often wore. Dream said that Ryan eventually bought some makeup of his own and asked her to teach him more so he could do it himself... and pretty soon M.A.C. was sponsoring him :)

I REALLY loved the costumes & makeup in the last half of 2006, but I promise I’ll try not to ramble as much as usual here. Basically, fans had fun watching Ryan’s makeup evolve because he’d usually start a theme/idea and then do variations of it for several shows... it was just cool to watch the ideas grow and build on each other. I’ll highlight what I thought were some of the more memorable makeup moments this summer (so I’m skipping over some days, but you can see where they’d fit in):

JUNE 9, 10, 11

JUNE 13-18

most of the looks in early June stuck to basic lines & shapes with some color... I’m not sure when Dream stopped doing Ryan’s makeup because the looks that he did later this summer still drew inspiration from what the Lucent Dossier performers did. (and ok I know 95% of these dates are accurate, but there are 2 pictures where I’m just going with one fan’s word... but even if it’s off, it’s still from the same general time so we’re good).

JUNE 20-25

By this point some fans had started using the “Ry-coon” name for his makeup. He was usually doing dark shapes around both eyes now that had something swooping down onto at least his right cheek. (the first show on June 6th was kind of like a more simplified version of this dark shape idea + the early line designs). wow I’m truly horrible at trying to explain shapes haha I want to use my hands and point to things but instead I’m reduced to “that one line... with the color.” this is going to be entertaining. bear with me.

JUNE 27-29

So the previous theme continued... by the end of June he was going back to a lighter colored eyeshadow base sometimes. The only thing I really want to point out is the two poky spiky things at the corner of his right eye in the last picture because that design + the swooping spiral on his cheek stuck around for a long time. Those elements are similar to part of a look that Roger from Lucent Dossier did, but Ryan made it his own and created so many new looks from that idea. 

(I’ll have to keep referencing that swooping spiral on his cheek with the 2 lines extending from his eye, so I’m just going to call the whole thing “the Tim Burton spiral” to save time... I just made that up btw – it’s not anything legit).

EARLY JULY

the Tim Burton spiral thing continued for most shows in early July. Ryan was also trying a wider range of colors for the eyeshadow base... and then he blended it right across his nose to connect both eyes. 

THE RED STRIP BEGINS...

There were a couple looks in a row that used the red strip. A lot of the fan pictures of Ryan wearing the look pictured above are from the Cleveland show on July 12th. I’m still not 100% sure whether or not Autumn de Wilde did this look that she used in her Spin magazine photos of Ryan (Spin magazine was with the band around July 11th–13th). Roger from Lucent Dossier said that Autumn did Ryan’s makeup look with the birds and Ryan loved it so much that he continued doing it himself. The bird does start in the look above (by Ryan’s ear), but I think by “the birds” he could’ve easily meant the next look. Anyways, the middle picture above is one that the band shared with us... Ryan seemed to really love the whole idea of the strip across his eyes.

THE BIRDS

Speaking of looks Ryan loved... lol he did this for at least 7 shows in mid-July. The pictures above are from July 13-16 in order. Sometimes there was also a different design on the other side of his face, so this look got pretty complex & dramatic. He also started blending other colors into the strip a bit more too... these pictures are a better example.

JULY 22-25

The Denver show on the 22nd was the end of the bird theme. I used the black & white footage because it was easier to see both sides of his face, but it’s hard to tell that the red strip turned into black on the left... the blending in July got pretty dramatic sometimes. 

The middle picture from July 24th was the start of a theme that carried on for several weeks. This look went back to the whole Tim Burton spiral thing Ryan was doing before, but that was on both sides of his face now like Roger’s makeup (in the far right picture above). Roger also did white/silver dots or dashes on his black swooping spiral designs sometimes, but I’m not sure who added that first. It looks like a continuation of the silver details Ryan had started playing with.

JULY 26, 27, & 31

I thought it was fun how you could see the aspects from previous looks that he liked enough to bring back & turn into something new. (The middle picture also has the same design on the right cheek as usual btw).

AUGUST 1 & 2

The regular Tim Burton spiral design grew a bit smaller on his left cheek on August 1st and then disappeared for the final show in the summer tour so the design was only on the right side of his face. He was still blending a bit of darker color into the strip, but it wasn’t nearly as dramatic as July. Here’s more detail from the start of August:

I suppose August is still summer, so I’ll include the rest of the variations that Ryan did on just this one theme...

AUGUST 4 (LOLLAPALOOZA)

The same look continued, except he had simplified the design to only be on one cheek at this point. The blending on the strip across his eyes was also a bit lighter and less dramatic than previous looks. I like how he put the straight edge of the spiral on top this time around... it looked really cool.

LATE AUGUST: 18, 19, 22

Ryan tried several new looks for some of the European shows in late August, but the 3 dates above still used some kind of version of the blended strip across his eyes with the Tim Burton spiral design.

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

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The next day, Marinette woke up in her bed, still dressed. By the time her father brought her into her room, she was already asleep. The emotions finally caught up with her somewhere along the way. Remembering the end of the evening, her eyes immediately latched onto her finger, but the ring was not there. A mere second before a panic attack, she looked at the bedside table, where both the box and the ring rested. She let out a breath. She didn’t lose it. 

“Morning cupcake,” a voice startled her. “Are you okay?” Her father was looking through the repealed doors. 

“Yeah… Did yesterday really happen?”

“We are still at Wayne Manor and I seem to remember to have put the ring on the night table.” 

“I can’t believe he actually proposed!” Marinette jumped off the bed and started to pace around with a dreamy look on her face. “I mean I know we are married, but it was still so romantic! And in front of so many people! Oh, Papa! I’m so happy!” She fell back onto her bed. 

“I’m glad you’re happy, cupcake. Remember that your Maman and I will always be here for you.” His smile took a sadder shade. “I know you’re almost a grown-up with a job and all, but to us you will always be the same little girl that I used to fit in the palm of my hand.” 

“Don’t worry Papa. I won’t forget you and Maman.”

“Good. Now let’s go open the presents! Race you!” He ran out of her room and toward the big tree in the hall. Mari giggled at her father’s antics before following him; the ring shining on her finger. 

In the back, Tikki floated with a big smile on her face. Her chosen finally had a chance for some happiness. If only that ruddy alley cat did not run away with the miraculous. She could still feel Nooroo and Duusu active. She could wait one more day before telling Marinette though. The girl deserved a peaceful Christmas.

---------

By the time Marinette arrived by the tree, most of the people were already gathered. Dick was seated in a large armchair next to a pile of gifts. He was dressed in a full Santa Claus outfit, complete with a fake beard. The only reason she recognized him was because of his voice.

“Now that everyone’s here, who wants…” He started, but someone interrupted. 

“Before that, I need to apologize.” Johnathan Kent turned toward Marinette. “Yesterday, after you left, I made some unsavory accusations about you, for which I want to deeply apologize.” Just for a second, his eyes jumped toward Sabine. The girl noted that her mother was glaring at the older man. “I’m a simple man and this… secret world you all live in is strange for me. Please, accept my sincere apology.” 

“Oh… No problem Mr. Kent. To be honest I’m still getting used to it all myself.” She smiled at him. Marinette was not that oblivious not to guess what kind of accusations the older man had made. 

“With that out of the way, I think we can get started. Maybe let’s begin with the youngest?” Dick said, trying to imitate how the real Santa Claus would sound. Marinette would admit that he was close.

“Me! Me!” Mar’i started floating in the air until Jon pulled her gently to the ground. He really got into the ‘older brother’ role. 

“Yes, you, sweetheart.” 

Mar’i received several gifts from the pile. Marinette was surprised to see one from her family. Inside were several baked goods from their bakery. She didn’t remember her parents packing any, but maybe they made them here.

“Me next!” Jon was giddy. His pile of gifts was slightly smaller, but there was a box of sweets there too. 

After that, it was Marinette’s turn. She received probably even more than Mar’i. There were also gifts from her Nona, grandfather, uncle Wang, one without a name tag that she was pretty sure came from aunt Sandra, a giant box from Chloe, and a small one that she had no idea who sent her. It was wrapped with a paper with black cats that would look better somewhere around Halloween, but she was too distracted to question it. Damian was busy arguing with Jon about whether he would get the Kryptonite knuckle dusters or not. 

She started with the largest box that Chloé sent her. Inside, there was a giant chest filled to the brim with detective novels and a letter that she chose to read when she was alone. Next was the gift from her uncle, which turned out to be an intricately decorated stone bowl for mixing ingredients. 

Her grandfather got her a beautiful rolling pin made half from cherry wood and half from solidified resin. The resin was in dark green color that reminded her of Damian’s eyes. But Roland had no idea about that, did he…?

Many gifts were some nice fabrics, a gift card to Gabriel, which she was tempted to burn as soon as she got it, but out of politeness just put it back into the box for now. Finally, the gift from aunt Sandra contained a set of beautiful daggers, a Katana, and a hairpin that had a space to pour poison inside. 

Her parents gave her a new rope dart, this time with a sharp end that she could use in combat. The line it was attached to was made from titanium-carbon alloy that would be able to withstand point-pressure of at least two tonnes. The weapon itself was practical instead of good-looking. The blade was thick, looking a bit like a diamond. The edges were sharp and the tip very pointy. The grip of the weapon was wrapped in a red cord for a more comfortable grip. Mari thanked them both before pocketing the weapon into her bag for now. She would probably fashion a better place for it.

Finally, only one box remained. The mysterious cats. Mari was about to open it when Jon noted it and leaped at her. The bow came undone the moment he covered the small box with his body. Everyone waited, watching carefully what was going on.

Nothing happened.

“Tt. Kent? Mind explaining to us why you decided to smash my Angel’s gift?” Damian glared at him.

“Um… I might have accidentally scanned it. You don’t want to see what’s inside. I definitely don’t want to see what’s inside ever again,” he shuddered. 

“Show me,” Sabine demanded. She picked up the squashed box and opened the top before closing it. A small lighter made its way into her hand and before anyone knew better, it was aflame. Seeing people staring at her, she smiled. “Nothing to worry about. It was a terrible prank.” She wrapped the now-charred remains and some vaguely straight shape into the torn paper. 

“What was this Maman?”

“A very distasteful prank.”

Marinette looked at the shape in her mother’s hand and her blood suddenly ran cold. It was shaped like a knife. The knife.

“No… He knows?! He can’t know!” She panicked, but Damian quickly pulled her closer to him, immediately soothing her some. 

“No, Sweetie. That bastard thought he would appease you by offering a painting of a stabbed Ladybug.” Sabine’s expression was heralding God’s wrath.

Jason growled. “He is sick.”

Next to him, Tim muttered so that only Stephanie could hear him. “You gave B. a crowbar on your first Christmas back…” Superman heard it too, judging from his reaction. 

“So what now?”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say we won’t be coming back beyond ‘appearing’ at the airport when your class is scheduled to leave. I still can’t believe how incompetent your teacher must be to force you to travel with them.”

“I know it might sound stupid, but I think you will be safest in Gotham City.” Lois offered. 

Mari nodded sharply before cuddling into Damian. “Don’t worry, Angel. I will protect you.” He reassured her while hugging her close to his heart.

“I can protect myself.” She huffed but didn’t reject his hug. 

“That I don’t doubt.”

“There is a good chance he won’t be able to reach you in Gotham anyway. He is just one kid, which will make crossing the border much harder for him.” Stephanie pointed. 

“He has his daddy’s money. That will probably be enough.”

“Let’s hope not. I will send the warning to the border control that he might be trying to enter the country, but that’s the best I can do.” 

“Meanwhile I will go check if my guns are working…” Jason tried to leave, only for Tim to grab the back of his jacket and pull him back into place.

“There is no point worrying for now. Let’s just enjoy Christmas.” Sabine nodded for everyone to return to gifts. When no one was looking at her, she pulled Jon to the side and placed the knife paper on the stone floor. They didn’t speak, not to start another drama, but the boy understood. A short heat-vision later the knife was no more than a piece of smoking paper and molten steel.

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

A blonde boy walked toward the terminal. He was dressed in a light gray long-sleeved dress shirt underneath a dark gray vest. He also sported a black necktie, dark gray dress pants, and black dress shoes. His hair was combed back, adding to the impeccable look. The green eyes swept over the guards as they observed him closely. He presented the passport.

He noted that it took them longer than it should. His eyes fell on the wanted poster next to the guards. 

“I’m not my idiotic cousin if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Ah… Um…” The guard that was speaking to him was clearly confused. 

“Really? Ugh! That idiot decided to play supervillain and suddenly I have to suffer for it! I am not Adrien Agreste.” He ruffled through his bag, not caring that several guards almost drew their weapons. He finally pulled out a magazine with him and Adrien standing side by side, modeling for Gabriel. When side by side, the difference in their styles was even more pronounced.

“Apologies, mister. You must understand thought…” The man started to back-track.

“Yeah yeah. Spare the prostrating.” He dismissed the guard and walked past the checkpoint. Once he was out of the hearing range, he grinned. “It’s not you that I want to see on the floor…” He whispered omniously. 

-----------

Marinette and Sabine arrived through a portal five minutes from the airport, with ten minutes to spare before class was scheduled to meet. The two did not carry any luggage so they would get past the customs much faster. An upside to having all your things brought through a magical portal the day before. 

The airport was buzzing with activity. Marinette and her mother quickly got past the checkpoint and met with Chloé, who awaited them eagerly. 

“Dupain-Cheng! How was Christmas with the Waynes?” She asked in a hushed voice, so the class didn’t hear her. 

“Well…” Mari grinned before showing the blonde her ring.

“What? Now that’s what I call a good Christmas gift.” 

“How did you like the belt?” Marinette asked. In response, Chloé showed her that she was already wearing it. It was white with some golden glitter around the elegant buckle. There was a barely visible MDC logo etched on the buckle. The designer worked on it for some time before repurposing it as a Christmas gift. She had to cut on the glitter decorations, but in the end, the more minimalistic design appealed to Chloé. 

Sabine watched the two girls talk. A year ago, the woman wouldn’t believe her eyes if Marinette and Chloé acted this friendly. Now though, they were cute. 

“Did you get my gift?” The blonde asked impatiently.

“Um… Yes. The books are great.” 

“What was under the books!” The girl whispered, hoping to avoid Sabine’s watchful eye and ear.

“What?” Marinette looked surprised and Chloé had to resist the urge to facepalm. 

“Honestly Dupain-Cheng! You’re ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!”

And then the mood was broken when the rest of the class found them. 

“Good morning Marinette.” Madame Bustier greeted the girl. “Sabine.” 

The older woman did not return the greeting. “It’s Madame Cheng. We are here in the role of chaperones.” She almost seethes. “Let’s keep at least the illusion of professionalism.”

“Um… right. Moving on kids!” The slightly embarrassed teacher declared. 

“She is just as bad as Maribrat,” Alya muttered to Lila when she thought Sabine couldn’t hear her. The glare she received in response made it clear she made a mistake in her judgment.

After they got to the plane, people started to whisper when Chloé and Marinette didn’t join them in the economy class where they had their tickets. Instead, the two left for the first class. 

“Why aren’t they joining us!?”

“Because Chloé’s father paid for hers and I can afford mine.” Marinette normally would be against such blatant flaunting of wealth, but she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing it a bit into them that she earned the luxury. 

“She probably…” Kim suddenly lost his ability to speak when he was met eye-to-eye with Sabine Cheng. 

“Think carefully about what you want to say next.” 

He could almost see the flames of hell burning brightly behind her. “Um… she probably earned it?”

“Good boy.” 

“While I agree that Marinette earned it,” Caline started speaking and Sabine, Chloé, and the girl in question all had to resist the urge to groan, sensing there was more to that sentence. “I think it would be preferable if the girls joined the class for the duration of the flight. It would serve to strengthen the bonds between kids.” 

“And how exactly do you plan on fitting them when all the places in this place are bought out. Not to mention the price difference. Or maybe you thought money was not a problem?” Sabine asked, her voice dripping in sarcasm. 

Before Caline could answer, Lila decided to open her mouth. “Maybe Madame Bustier and you, madame could switch places with them. We know how hard our teacher worked and a bit of relaxation and comfort would do her good. You too could probably relax a bit from all the hard work in that Bakery.” 

Immediately after that, everyone started to agree and try to convince the chaperones to leave them alone. Sabine was about to protest when Caline spoke up. “Well, I think it would be acceptable, provided the girls agree.” She sent both a glare. 

Sabine’s blood boiled. She wasn’t sure if any normal girl would actually have the strength to stand up to a teacher in that position. Only the fact that Marinette looked completely unbothered stopped her from reacting. 

“Of course they won’t agree! They are too selfish!” Alya shouted. 

Some of the people on the plane started to stare at the group, with many gazes falling on Marinette and Chloé. 

The blonde scoffed, but her best friend grinned. “Sure.” She pulled her ticket and handed her to the teacher. “But we’re blocking the flight, so let’s move.”

Chloé handed hers to Sabine, smiling politely at the woman. “Marinette suspected this would end like that.” She whispered before taking a seat next to Dupain-Cheng. Both girls pulled out old-fashioned dictaphones and started recording what was going on with the class. Then Chloé gave Mari one of her detective novels and they started reading. 

Sabine shook her head. Her little girl had a plan and she would trust her. And after seeing Lila in action, she now had some idea how that liar worked. The way she manipulated people’s opinion reminded her in some ways of the assassin training she underwent. 

-----

The plane was already half-way to Gotham. Sabine did her best to ignore Caliné’s rambling about Marinette, switching between praising her and making her into the heart of all the problems with the class. If she didn’t know better, Sabine would think that the teacher had some sort of mental disorder. Beyond simple stupidity that is. 

Out of the blue, Caliné stopped rambling and Sabine saw her asleep, snoring lightly. 

“A strong sedative. It should give us at least an hour of peace.” A calm voice spoke from behind her. 

“Sandra.” Sabine greeted her sister politely, but without the usual cheerfulness. “Clever of you to choose here of all places to meet me. Don’t think that it will let you escape my wrath. You left that girl on the mercy of a monster.” 

“Cassandra was… I did regret what I did, but I couldn’t risk trying to reclaim her. Not until I was sure she could defend herself.” Sandra said, allowing emotions to enter her voice. Sabine could tell she was genuinely saddened by the situation. 

“You could’ve brought her to me. I would raise her along Marinette without a second thought. And you know that nobody would dare to come after me.” The older turned in her seat to glare at her sister. Two men at her side were both also sleeping, each with a small wound on their neck. They had complete privacy. 

“I… I’m sorry. By the time I managed to find her again, I… I was ashamed. I admit that it pained me to see what Cain did to her. But I couldn’t…”

“We will talk about it when I can scream at you properly.” Sabine cut her off. “For now I want to know what is so important you decided to show up personally, risking my wrath.”

“The boy has allies.” 

“Who?”

“I don’t know, but they are influential enough to shield him from many of my contacts.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you tried. As opposed to with your daughter.”

“I deserve it…” Sandra lowered her head. 

“Yes, you do.” Sabine huffed. 

“If I find the kid…” 

“He sent Mari the knife he stabbed Ladybug with. I have no idea how he got his sticky hands on it…” 

“You still have the bag, right?”

“Already waiting for me in Gotham.”

“I will try digging some more, but I’m getting blocked at each turn.”

“Meanwhile I will keep both our girls safe.”

“I got the picture of Talia by the way.” Lady Shiva allowed a smile to ghost her face. “I carry it framed and put it by my bed. She got a few copies too.” 

“Good. That might remind her not to trifle with us.” The sisters shared a laugh, but Sabine was still angry and it showed. She would give her sister a piece of her mind when the time came. 

-----------

A figure stood cloaked in shadows. The small screen showed a series of images. 

“Poison Ivy; Bane; Penguin; Riddler; Mr. Freeze; Two-Face; Scarecrow; Clayface; Falcone; Harley Quinn; Killer Croc; Joker…” 

“The previous Hawkmoth was a fool.” Another figure spoke from the shadows. Their voice was neither feminine nor masculine. “He stuck to a moral high ground, giving powers to untrained kids. Then again, he was fighting kids.” 

A small, butterfly-like creature floated in the air. “But that is precisely what the Butterfly Miraculous is supposed to do! Its powers will work best with the common people.” 

“Interesting.” The main figure grinned. “So my father wasn’t such a fool after all.” He laughed when another image appeared on the screen. “And I see that my trap is already working.”

Duusuu had to hide from fear. This was not the kind boy they knew. What could’ve happened to Chat Noir, the great kind Chat Noir that made him into… this.

-------

Masterlist // Next

[birdy-bat-writes]

Final Conclusions

A/N: So Fish and I came up with this Dad!Constantine concept while talking about this one OC I created and a few OC’s she created. The one I created is named Maya. The premise of her story is that she’s a love interest for Damian and she treats John like a mentor/father figure since he’s teaching her to control her magic. This plot is basically what has sprouted any of the Dad/Uncle/Mentor Constantine content I’ve created. Fish has contributed a lot and I love her so much. The basis for this interaction is that John finds a lot of amusement in the fact that Damian likes Maya and he just hates John so much. Even though it’s based on an OC, I’m going to write it x reader style with the reader having the same powers as my OC. So now that there’s context let’s begin!

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

 It’s the opening night of the Gotham Academy’s festival of the arts. The night where young artists and musicians show off their talent in the galleries and performances, and two people who never show up to these things- like ever- both happened to be here at the same time for the same reason. You. And it irked them to no end.

Both John and Damian arrived at 6:30 pm on the dot. Damian looked so irritated to see John there. Why is he even there? He doesn’t even like going to these things. But then again, neither did Damian. He decided to put his irritation aside and began to walk into the building with John. He had to admit, John stepped up for the occasion.

John cleaned up, did his hair, shaved and actually wore a jacket that was not his usual beige trench coat, all to attend some crummy high school art show. But he did it anyway because it was your work that was being displayed. The disdain he felt towards these events was replaced with a sense of pride he had in you. He sported a grey blazer and black shirt with matching slacks, that contrasted Damian’s black suit.

“Nice to see you here, Damian.”

“Likewise.” The conversation stayed stagnant for a while as they looked around at the different works displayed. Neither of them walked around much. The silence was broken when you walked up to them, looking elegant as ever in your green dress.

“Hey, guys! I’m so happy you both could come.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Damian said sweetly. And that was a rare sight for John to see. Damian being sweet?!

“Do you want to see my display?” They both excitedly nodded “yes” and followed you to a wall at the end of the hall. You cautiously cut through the crowd and pointed. “Tada!”

“That looks amazing, Y/N. You’re more talented than you know.”

“Not bad, kiddo. It’s the best thing I’ve seen from you since that chicken you managed to turn green.”, John said ruffling your hair. Thank goodness you left it down. If it was done up, it would have taken ages to fix, but since you knew john was coming, you took the precaution. He had a habit of doing that when he was proud of you, and it made your day every time.

“Thank you. I’m just going to check out the ceramic displays, you guys want to come?”

“No thanks, dear.”

“I’ll just wait here.”

“Okay, see you in a bit. I’m so happy you both are here.” You chimed. You had that little gleam in your eye that you always did when you were happy, and Damian didn’t fail to notice. He lingered on it. Just as he did with your smile, and the soft glow on your cheeks. He was regrettably brought out of his love-trance by the sound of John’s voice.

“Does that look like ketchup on paper to you too? Or is it just me?” Damian wanted to roll his eyes and say something snarky, but instead, looked up at the painting john was talking about. It really did just look like a glob of red paint.

“I can’t even tell what that’s supposed to be. If it’s abstract, they did a good job.”

“To be honest, I don’t really get this ‘art’ thing. Half of these canvases look like something a two-year-old could muster.” John said, and Damian sighed in return.

“You have to look beyond the surface. Art is about the emotion behind the paint and pencil.”

“Alright, Picasso, what’s that one about then?” Damian stayed silent. “I thought you were an artist; you don’t get art?”

“I sketch sometimes but that doesn’t make me an artist.”

“Ah, damaged closet-artist.” Damian groaned lowly.

“There isn’t anything in that piece to understand. It’s just paint splatters. Half of these can only be admired for their technical skill; there’s no emotion behind them. If there is one, it’s not one that I understand.

“Whose work do you like then?” Damian gave that one some thought,

“I like the classics, I suppose. The only current artist whose work I’ve liked is Y/N.”

“Interesting, so, what emotion do you get from her work?” John had his trademark devilish grin plastered upon his face. He knew Damian was head over heels for you, and it sure was fun to get a rise out of him with that. Damian was trying not to let his mind wander off to the charcoal sketches he has framed in his room. You drew them for him and left them in his room one day. They were all sketches of Titus, Batcow, Alfred the cat and his personal favorite, a charcoal rendition of a polaroid you took. It was the two of you at the beach with the family, and Damian was smiling. It was rare and reserved just for you, so he couldn’t help but think the emotion he got from it was love. That photo stayed between the two of you, and the drawing wasn’t shown to anyone but him. John doesn’t get the luxury of knowing that. Why did he even ask? Why is he even here?

“Why did you come here?” Damian asked.

“Y/N invited me.”

“You don’t like going to these events. Why’d you say yes?”

“Same reason as you mate, I care about her more than I hate the rest of society.”

Damian gave a light nod that anyone would have missed if they weren’t’ looking for it. “What about you? It’s not like you enjoy school activities and such.” Damian looked a little flustered.

“I wanted to support my friend and classmate. It’s important to her.”

“Right, you wanted to support your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Aye, but you want her to be.” John said with a smirk.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t give me that. Its plain as day that you like her.” Damian scoffed and looked down for a while.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” He tried to play it off like sarcasm, but that didn’t really go as planned.

“You hate people and yet you love being around her. You’re an artist and can’t understand anyone’s art but hers. You want to protect her from anyone who you think isn’t good enough for her, myself included. The signs are pretty obvious.” Damian looked a little flushed but remained speechless. “And besides, she’s pretty easy to fall in love with, I hear. My home phone gets calls from boys on the daily.”

“What?! From who?!?”

“Hehe, and that’s how I came to that conclusion.”

“Constan-!”

“There you guys are! I’ve been looking for you. Art awards are going to be announced soon. Want to go find a seat?” You had just found the boys and were ready to take them into the auditorium for the Art Awards.

“Sure thing.”, John said cheerily.

John smiled and Damian just returned a cold glare.

***

They were seated next to each other and chose not to complain about it. Instead, opting to tense over the fact that they were nearing the end of the awards ceremony and your name hadn’t yet been called. This meant one of two things: Either you were about to win one of the top cash prizes or you weren’t going to win anything. And the thought of the latter had both John and Damian gripping the arm rests of their seats tight enough to dent them. The anticipation was building in all of you, but it flooded away from you when you turned and looked at the boys. They looked more stressed than you did, and it made you want to laugh. Of course, you stifled it. This is what you liked to call “Chaotic caring energy”. And truth be told, these two were awfully similar for a pair of people who can’t stand each other.

It was down to second place. You had lost hope and accepted you wouldn’t win anything. The boys hadn’t, though. They were literally at the edge of their seats, and you swear you saw Damian grab John’s shoulder at one point. Just then, you heard your name called. First place, Y/N L/N, 8th grade.

“Yes! I’m so proud of you!”

“Well done, N/N! I knew you’d be up there!” They could be heard over the Loud cheering from the rest of the audience. You walked up and received your award and you waved at them from the stage. John looked at you with a genuine smile and adoration in his eyes. He knew you were talented, and he was so proud of you for working so hard for this. You had finally gotten the recognition you deserved and the look in his eyes reflected how happy he was about it. Damian noticed too. John really cared about you. Damian saw it now. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad mentor for you after all.

While leaving the hall, the three of you saw Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim and Alfred waiting by the doors. They congratulated you and showered you with hugs. They had seen the ceremony as well, but they watched it from the auditorium balcony. While you were off showing your plaque to everyone, Damian took an opportunity to say something he felt he needed to say.

“Hey, John?”

“Hm?’

“When you said I want to protect Y/N from people who aren’t good enough… I don’t consider you to be someone I should protect her from. You’re a good mentor.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” They shared a look of agreement. Perhaps they had finally settled a truce. “And of course, I’m a good mentor for her. I’m the master of my craft.” John added smugly.

“I saw you light your tie on fire once.”

“Who said that was an accident?” They shared a chuckle. Meanwhile, Bruce and Alfred were making celebratory dinner plans, and you were standing flabbergasted with the boys because Damian and John were smiling at each other??? They walked up to you and overhearing Bruce’s discussion about dinner, Damian took the liberty of inviting John to join you.

You choked on your saliva, Tim looked beyond concerned and when John said he’d be delighted, everyone freaked. Bruce looked terrified, Dick squinted, and Jason was about to take a picture while Alfred just stared.

“Are they smiling at each other?”

“No, that’s not possible.”

“Um, they’re walking side by side and talking without grimacing.”

Y/N looks like she’s about to pass out. Someone catch her.”

[thelittleredrobinhood]

Oblivion

Hey everyone, sorry I haven’t posted in a while but I’m hoping to be more active now! This is a song fic I’ve been working on for a while. Warning it’s pretty much all angst.

Length: 2,156 words

Song: Oblivion by Bastille

Fandom: Batman

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne

Ratings: Teen and Up

Trigger Warnings: Major Character Death (Canonical), Blood Mention, Kidnapping, Police Mention. If you would like me to add any please let me know!

Summary: Damian lay peacefully sleeping in his fathers arms, Bruce only hopes his peace could last forever. But nothing lasts forever, especially in a life lived on the edge of oblivion.

Damian’s breathing began to even out halfway through some movie Bruce couldn’t name. He was too busy watching Damian, enjoying a moment where his son truly looked like a child, with no walls, no glare, just peace.

Patrol had been rougher than usual, had been for a while now. Slowly but surely Gotham was losing to the darkness within her, no matter how hard they tried. It was as if Gotham had given up, that she knew the war was already lost.

As the voices on the screen grew louder Damian shifted in his sleep. The man knew he should shut it off and carry Damian up to bed, but he didn’t dare move, didn’t dare risk ending the moment of peace his son had found, wherever he had gone behind his eyes.

When you fall asleep with your head upon my shoulder.

When you're in my arms but you've gone somewhere deeper.

As the end credits rolled Bruce finally shut off the TV, picked Damian up and carried him to his room. It always shocked him how light Damian was, that even with all he was capable of, he was still just a kid.

Gently he placed Damian under the covers and tucked him in, just as Alfred used to do for him. Though instead of leaving he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing the hair from his sons closed eyes. He never showed this affection when the boy was awake, he couldn’t. As much as he loved him, he knew his child needed a mentor, not a father. And he couldn’t possibly be both.

So, he found himself in times like these crossing that invisible line. Letting himself care and love, but also worry. His son had been forced to grow up far too quickly and yet had so much growing still to do. And in these small moments, no matter how hard he tried not to, he always wondered if it was worth it.

This was a path that had taken so much from both of them, and one miss-step could cost them what little they had left. But hadn’t they given enough? Hadn’t his son given enough? Because as proud as Damian acted Bruce knew deep down the boy still felt like he needed to give more to make up for his past, to prove himself. That no matter what Damian said, he never felt good enough.

Bruce only wished Damian would know that he was proud.

Are you going to age with grace?

Are you going to age without mistakes?

Slowly Bruce stood from the bed and made his way out of the room. Pausing only for a moment, he took one last glance at his son, then he closed the door behind him.

He stopped in the hall and drew in a long tired breath, slowly raking his hands down his face. It had been a long day, the exhaustion ached in his limbs. He should sleep, but that never seemed to help anymore.

Bruce released his breath with a sigh and began the short walk to the Batcave. An action he had done so many times he barely noticed when he came to a stop in front of the large computer, and began pulling up today’s files.

Though as many reports as he finished, there seemed to be an ever-growing number behind them. He wondered idly if it would ever end; he hoped so. If only for his children’s sake.

He turned for a moment to the glass case behind him. Inside his suit stood proud, the symbol on its chest unmistakable, even when surrounded by the darkness of Gotham. The symbol that kept some awake at night and yet let others sleep soundly.

At first, he had loved the thrill, the freedom of no identity, of no one knowing who he was. No one judging his every move, measuring him up against a man he barely even knew. He was finally free of Bruce Wayne, but then Batman became an identity of its own.

Sometimes he wondered if he was better off without the mask, but the good they do can’t be done in the light. At least not yet.

Are you going to age with grace,

Only to wake and hide your face?

The daylight came and went as if it had never been there at all and Batman once again found himself jumping into the fray, Robin by his side. As the Bat finished off his last thug, he turned to watch his partner. There were still two men left standing, but it was nothing Robin couldn’t handle. Though as Batman watched he couldn’t help but see the boys that came before him.

Dicks energetic grace, Jason’s ruthless accuracy, Tim’s calculating stare. All of them willing to die for this cause, his cause. And in the end, they all will. One way or another this fight will take them all. Whether it’s their bodies in the field or their minds once they leave it, the people they were when this started won’t make it out alive. Unlike himself who doesn’t have a choice.

No matter what happens to him neither Batman nor Bruce can ever change. Both a symbol, one of justice and one of hope, and both far too needed in these dark times. Neither can ever falter. Neither can ever die.

When oblivion is calling out your name,

You always take it further than I ever can.

The night air was cold in his lungs as Batman watched the fight unfold around him. A small group of thugs had kidnapped a little boy from his bedroom window, hoping to make some money.

They were in an old abandoned warehouse, near the port. If you listened you could almost hear the waves, but Bruce had other things on his mind. There weren’t many kidnappers left standing, there had only been six to begin with, but a few tried to make a run for it.

“Robin, fall back and make sure they don’t escape,” he ordered over his shoulder as he threw a punch, knocking the man he had been fighting out cold.

“The police can handle them,” Robin replied, finishing his last opponent and going to help the child.

“Now, Robin.” The tone of Batman’s command left no room for arguments.

His partner sighed but followed orders, turning his attention to the two fleeing criminals. They had barely made it twenty feet, stumbling around in the chaos, their weapons lost in the fight. Robin went for his batarang when he caught movement in the corner of his eye.

The kidnapper Robin had just fought had gotten back up and was heading for the child. Disobeying Batman’s order Robin abandoned the escaping men and ran for the young boy.

The thug made it to the child first and pulled out a knife. Thinking quickly Robin tackled the man, taking his knife and lodging it in his shoulder. A non-fatal wound but a painful one. The man quickly dropped to the ground screaming in pain, blood pouring out of his arm.

Robin ignored him and turned to the small boy, who jerked back in fear. Slowly, he undid the small child’s bindings and helped him stand. Batman had finished with the other kidnappers and the police were quickly making their way inside.

After handing the kid over to the cops, Batman and Robin left the scene. Their job finished for the night, though the ride home was made in silence.

The Batmobile came to a slow stop and Damian was quick to leave, ready to put the night behind him when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Robin, you disobeyed my order,” Batman stated, his voice echoing off the cave walls.

“I saved the boy, doesn’t that matter?” Robin aske, turning on his heel.

“Of course it matters, but you also stabbed a man in front of him, Damian.” Removing his cowl Bruce looked into the eyes of his son.

“I had to take him down!” He replied, the anger and frustration clear in his voice.

“Not like that. We can’t do that; we can’t be like them,” Bruce responded, the frustration growing in his voice as well.

“I’m not one of them, stop acting like I am! I don’t need you or anyone else controlling me,” Damian shouted.

After a moment’s hesitation his son turned back around and marched up the stairs, ending their conversation for the night. This isn’t the first fight they had like this and Bruce knows it won’t be the last.

When you play it hard, and I try to follow you there.

It's not about control but I turn back when I see where you go.

With a frustrated sigh Bruce turned to the computer and started on the night’s files. In the corner of the screen, he pulled up the news coverage on what happened. He paused for a moment when he saw the boy reunited with his parents. He truly is proud of Damian, but there’s more to it than that.

The boy is crying, held in his parent’s arms. Robin may have kept him safe but there are more types of pain then physical. The kid had to watch it all up close; that affects people. They are supposed to be heroes, the ones good people aren’t afraid of, but what happens when you’re scared of the good guys, too? What road will that lead him down?

When Bruce says Robin can’t be like the criminals they fight, it’s not that he thinks Damian is evil, it’s that he doesn’t want people to think he is. His son has a chance to be something new, not just the weapon his mother wanted him to be.

He can make his own future now.

Are you going to age with grace?

Are you going to leave a path to trace?

A hand on his shoulder snaps Bruce out of his thoughts, though more than anything he wishes he could go back. Wishes he didn’t have to face reality quite yet. That everything was just as it was then.

Damian lay in his arms again, just as he had the night Bruce carried him to bed, but he wasn’t sleeping. Or maybe he was, that’s how some people choose to rationalize it. But it isn’t rational, it isn’t fair, though what in their lives ever were.

He looked so relaxed. More relaxed than Bruce had ever seen him with his eyes open. He should close them, but he feels frozen in place. Those eyes had been so full of life only a moment ago, now they might as well have been made of glass. But while lifeless they also held no pain. Bruce chocked back a sob; his son was finally free.

A voice spoke behind him, though he didn’t hear the words. The syllables and tones sounded meaningless and foreign, but he knew what they meant. It was time to go, but he couldn’t. The hand on his shoulder grew firmer, the words louder, but he didn’t dare move. His eyes locked on his son, his child. Now forever, just a child.

But oblivion is calling out your name,

You always take it further than I ever can.

The wind blows through the trees, but the sky is clear. No storms or rain, hail or snow. Just the bright light of a new day. A day his boy will never see.

It’s almost ironic, that the one day the sun shines through Gotham’s clouds is the one day no one wants it to. The one day it won’t be cherished. The one day it won’t be remembered, because no one is looking up. Their eyes cast to the ground, to the new stone among the old, to the name engraved upon it. Damian Wayne.

A meaningless name for a meaningless boy. A lie for the people, an act for the world. This name was only a burden to him, an unbearable weight. A brand on his life that forever marked him for greatness. Forced him to surrender himself so that he may be molded into what others wanted. The heir to Bruce Wayne. The heir to Talia Al Gul. The heir to a future of anyone but himself.

No, his son’s true grave lies deeper, under rocks and dirt. A simple glass case, with a small scrap of fabric, a costume covered in blood. A monument to the boy he really was, to Robin. To his hardened eyes and tattered edges. He may not have been free in life, but it was the closest he ever got.

He can only hope the real Damian is remembered, that after everything he’d done, that after everything he fought for, his redemption came. And that the rest will fade into oblivion.

When oblivion is calling out your name,

You always take it further than I ever can.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 8

First

Previous

Marinette had never thought that living in another world would be this hard.

Sure, she had known that she would have issues when it came to the whole ‘she wasn’t technically supposed to be here and therefore needed a new identity’ thing. That was kind of obvious. The story they’d come up with had been simple enough -- she had grown up in Gotham with her parents, was highschool sweethearts with Tim, they had gotten married, he’d moved in with her, and her parents had died so she’d gotten custody of Damian. She was pretty sure Tim had a tragic backstory, but she didn’t really have that memorized yet. She wasn’t all that worried about it, though, she spent quite a lot of time dodging answering questions about her private life as Ladybug. Marinette probably wouldn’t even need to memorize his backstory (she would, of course, because she was nothing if not an overachiever, but she was well aware of the fact that it wasn’t quite necessary).

But, no, it was the small things that made it difficult.

Like affection.

Marinette was Parisian, she was used to greeting people with kisses on both cheeks. Hugs were something reserved for people you were close to.

But, no, Americans just insisted on being backward in everything that they do. And, supposedly, Marinette was American. She could get away with her accent because Gotham had a bunch of different people and it was easy to claim she came from the French part of town, but when it came to customs? No, she had to at least try and act like someone who had lived in America for her entire life.

So, when she was greeted with a hug from the most affectionate of her fellow interns, Marinette suppressed a cringe and patted her on the back awkwardly.

“Hi, Paige,” she said.

Paige beamed. “Ready for work?”

Marinette squinted up at the building. The WE in this universe was even taller than in her usual one.

… or maybe it just looked like that because she dreaded going inside. Ugh. Being an intern was going to suck.

“No.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

“Thanks…”

But, despite Paige’s assurances, it did not go fine.

And it wasn’t even the job thing that wasn’t going well. That, at least, she could handle. No, it was this world’s meme culture that sent her spiraling.

She’d been holding exactly nine cups of coffee, seven mugs of tea, and one energy drink can. Marinette didn’t know if it was her time working in a bakery or some sort of latent Ladybug skills or what but it wasn’t even all that difficult to hold them all.

Paige raised her eyebrows at her, looking vaguely concerned. “Do you need help?” She asked, hands already out as if expecting her to say yes.

Marinette cracked a grin. “No. I’m fine. It’s not even that hard. I could probably carry another two drinks, even.”

“Freaky flexing, but fine.”

“... the fuck did you just say to me?”

~

Tim hummed lightly as he bounced on the balls of his feet, baby sleeping soundly on his shoulder. Marinette fumbled the keys to their new apartment, mumbling curses.

She’d outright told him that she didn’t really care, that she’d lived above a bakery for most of her life so it wasn’t like she would mind as long as the place had counter space…

So why was he nervous?

He felt the tiny hand in his shirt grip him tighter and he looked down. Damian was still fast asleep, sucking on his pacifier peacefully. Tim wondered, idly, how that worked. Was it a reflex that humans lose as they age like the grasping reflex or was it a learned behavior that went away when it wasn’t reinforced anymore?

Marinette managed to open the door, her cheeks tinged red at how difficult it had been, and she swung it open.

He stopped bobbing up and down to watch her face.

But she just shrugged to herself and bent down to grab the box she’d brought up.

He tried not to look too relieved as he followed her inside and watched her set the box down on the kitchen island.

She glanced back at him. “I call cleaning and setting up the apartment!” She said brightly.

“Okay…?” He said, confused as to why she was so excited to clean up…

But then Damian started to stir.

Oh. If she had cleanup duty… then he had…

Baby duty.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Shit, Mari, wait --!”

“Too late! You already said okay!” She said, already heading to the door.

Damian spat out his pacifier and took that one long, deep breath he always took before he was about to scream.

“Mari!”

She stuck her tongue out at him and disappeared around the doorframe just as the baby started to cry.

Tim heaved a sigh and pressed a kiss to the top of the kid’s head. The wailing quieted a little, but didn’t stop. Tim would take it, he hadn’t even been expecting Damian to quiet himself. This was an absolute win in his book.

He glanced at the box that had been brought up but, unfortunately, they hadn’t had enough foresight to bring the baby supplies.

He poked his head out the door and yelled for Marinette to bring up the box with the baby stuff first. She yelled ‘fuck you’ in response but when she came back she handed him the box regardless.

He smiled -- or, at least, he smiled as much as it was possible to smile when a baby was screaming at you -- and went to work figuring out what was wrong.

~

There was good news and bad news.

Good news was that Damian was starting to learn that crying was okay.

Bad news was that Damian was starting to learn that crying was okay.

And, listen, Marinette obviously preferred that. She wanted to know when the kid was hurt or hungry or even just craving affection… but ugh.

She twisted around in the bed to squint at the clock.

Three o’clock. Great.

She groaned softly and buried her face in Damian’s hair again. “Dami, please, I have work tomorrow. Shhhhhhhhh,” she pleaded. As if she didn’t have to go to work every day.

Damian, of course, didn’t stop crying.

Marinette thought she was going to cry.

Tim pulled his arm from around them so he could cover his ears with his pillow.

She reluctantly sat up. Damian banged his little fists against her shoulder in an attempt to tell her… something. Probably that he wasn’t happy. As if the entire apartment complex couldn’t hear just how unhappy he was.

She changed his diaper and then got him Cow. Hopefully that would sate him for the rest of the night.

She clambered back into bed and sent Tim a weak smile when he wrapped an arm around them.

She scooted toward him, because Damian was reaching for him and his eyes were closed, and tucked her head under his chin. He tensed just slightly before relaxing and tangling his legs with hers.

Damian seemed to like being cocooned between them, because he made a vague happy sound and settled down to sleep without much (more) fussing.

Tim hummed lightly. His voice was terrible, but it seemed to calm Damian so Marinette wasn’t about to complain.

It took a while for Damian to go back to sleep but, eventually, he did. Unfortunately, he fell asleep while biting the crinkly ears of his plush and it was hard to sleep with the steady crkcrkcrkcrk sound right next to her.

From the way Tim’s breathing had yet to slow, he wasn’t asleep either.

Well, at least that was something to do.

“I’m beginning to think the reason babies are so cute is that otherwise we would kill them,” she joked, her voice soft so as not to wake the kid again.

Not that it would matter all that much. She could, unfortunately, not see herself going back to sleep before her alarm went off.

He chuckled and nodded as much as he could with her head beneath his. “Right? I just want one night of good sleep --.”

He stopped suddenly.

She drew back a little to check that he was fine, only to see him looking mildly horrified.

“We need to go back home soon. I’m going to get used to sleeping like a normal person. I can’t do that,” he said.

She grinned. “Oh no. The horror.”

“No, you don’t get it. If I do that then I’ll be giving into my family’s wishes. I can’t let them think they’re right about something!”

She giggled, shaking her head. “Here, I’ll make it easier for you: I don’t want you to sleep. As Dami and I are your only family -- legally -- for the next fifteen years, you must not do what we want. Therefore, you have to sleep.”

“Ah. Reverse psychology.”

“Well, I am a psych major.” Some of the amusement faded. “Was a psych major.”

“... really?”

“Yeah. I dunno. I’d figured it was the closest I could get to being Ladybug again.”

“You’re still Ladybug.”

She shrugged just slightly. “Yeah. I dunno,” she said again. She tried for a grin. “Doesn’t feel the same when there’s no emotional terrorism involved.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to do the same thing over and over again for a million years.”

“There’s some comfort in things staying the same.”

“Oh? Maybe we should trade.”

“That’s an amazing plan that I see no problems with. You get to go around beating up the Meta Of The Week and I’ll stay in Gotham dealing with all the idiots in spandex.”

“Are we switching outfits, too?”

“Oh yeah. Obviously. Gotta commit to the whole ‘switching’ thing. I bet I’ll look cuter in your outfit, too.”

“Ah, yes, because cuteness is the most important part of vigilante costumes.”

“We end up in papers all the time, being cute is totally important.”

He chuckled lightly and she felt the arm around her give her a tiny squeeze. She buried her face in his chest.

“You should try and sleep.”

“Hypocrite,” she teased, but she could already feel her eyelids drooping.

He hummed. She thought that, maybe, it didn’t sound so bad as to make him stop.

~

Tim had been in the middle of bathing Damian as he always did before bed when he’d accidentally splashed water on his face.

Perfectly fine and normal.

What wasn’t perfectly fine and normal was that the baby responded by saying: “Oh shit!”

Tim’s eyes narrowed.

“MARINETTE,” he yelled.

Marinette was there in seconds. There was some kind of green paste on her face. She’d been in the middle of her usual skincare routine. He thought it was kind of weird that near-immortals needed skincare routines but that wasn’t the point here.

She looked around frantically. “What?! What’s wrong?!”

“Damian just said sh --... he said the s-word.”

Marinette relaxed at that and sent Tim a glare. “Don’t blame this one on me. You’re the one that says that.”

Tim frowned. Because, now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure she was right.

“Now, if he’d said ‘fuck’, that would have been on me, but he didn’t, so --.”

“FUCK,” Damian said brightly.

Tim glared at Marinette again, this time rightfully so.

She looked a little sheepish. “... okay, yeah, that one’s on me.”

~~~~~

Next

@nathleigh @peachmuses @unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff

[flying-nightwing]

Act II: The Racetrack

Hey guys! I’m not sure I’m entirely satisfied with that one, especially the dialogue feels off. But this is something to drag me out of my writers block so yeah I’m not at optimal capacity. Anyhow, I hope you still enjoy!

Side note, I think this is the fic I used the least italics lmao. Also this is semi edited

Part 1 in Masterlist! 

Part 3 is out now!

Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader

Word count: 3256

Warnings:

 regular amount of violence, language

“Tim”

At the sound of his name, Tim jumped up from his sleep. He had no idea he had even closed his eyes, but there he was, sleeping perfectly still in his chair in front of his open computer. He blinked, looking down to his coffee, then up to Bruce.

“I’ve got a location”

That woke Tim up better. He was suddenly alert and attentive. “Where is it?”

“The Gotham Cup” Bruce replied, showing him two VIP passes to the Nascar race later that day. It made sense now that he said it, as the big crime families would meet there, as each one of them owned a racing team. “It’ll have to be a no cape mission, we’ll have to operate in broad daylight”

Tim nodded with a sigh. He wasn’t a fan of that type of recon, as he’d have to socialize as Tim Drake-Wayne the CEO and answer questions that would distract him from his mission. It also meant potentially dealing with press corps and cameras, which meant he’d have to be extra careful in his recon. At least the attention would be divided between him and Bruce.

“What time?” He asked.

“It starts at two, but the social event is on at one”

Tim looked down to his watch. It was now almost 11:30. He finished his now cold coffee and stood up with yet another sigh. “Guess I’ll have to go make myself presentable, then”

Bruce chuckled, but didn’t add anything more.

---

The sun was high in the sky and the racetrack was buzzing with activity. People with teams’ shirts and caps were mingling around, and the line of the bet counter was stretching all around the building. Tim walked beside Bruce, both of their VIP lanyards hanging from their necks and contrasting with their black dress shirt. They turned heads as they passed the lines and different booths, mostly ignoring the whispers that arose around them. They soon reached the VIP entrance, getting in without having to raise the badge or lower their sunglasses.

It still surprised Tim, even after all this time, the sheer power of the name Wayne. 

They climbed the stairs to the terrasse, where there were considerably less people, and those who were there were dressed in fancy clothes rather than fan gear. There was s soft ambient music playing in the background and plenty of seats under the roof’s shade. The whole place screamed money, yet Tim found it extraordinary bland. 

“You take ten o’clock, I’ll take two” Bruce instructed. “Meet at the bar for the start of the race”

“Got it” Tim nodded, checking his watch. He had exactly one hour and three minutes to try and find out more about which big shot would have beef with city hall. He began walking towards the rail, leaning on and pretending to be interested in whatever the entertainers were doing on the turf in the middle of the track. The seats around were gradually filling with fans who were willing to sit still for hours under the sun to watch cars drive in circles, eating their overpriced hotdogs. Tim didn’t understand the fun in that, but then again, they would probably not understand his idea of fun either.

With a sigh, he pushed himself from the rail and returned to his task. However, he didn’t see the person walking by and bumped into them. “Oh f--” He stopped himself from cursing out loud. “Sorry”

He paused, squinting at the semi familiar face in front of him. You smiled.

“What, no champagne to spill on me this time?” You teased as you recognized the handsome face from the gala the other day. The connection clicked in his eyes as he understood where he saw you before.

“Oh, hi!” He hurried to answer. “Uh, it’s you”

“So I’m told” You chuckled. He wouldn’t have recognized you on the spot, with your wide hat and brighter clothes. At first glance you seemed like a totally different person, but as he took in your features, it was obvious it was you.

He could recognize those memorable traits everywhere.

“So uh, you left before I could talk to you, the other day” He scratched the back of his neck. “I haven’t seen you much around either”

“I’m not from Gotham, so that would be pretty normal” You replied as you leaned on the rail. “I’m only here for a few days”

“Oh?” He asked, suddenly a little more interested. He raised his sunglasses on his head, looking at your directly. “I hope you weren’t too spooked by what went down at the gala”

You tsked, shaking your head. “Poor mayor” You sighed sadly. “It’s terrible what happened. At least no one else was injured. I was terrified when the smoke went off, but I’ll be okay”

He gave you a small, awkward smile. “Glad to hear it”

“So, do you have a name?” You changed the subject.

“Tim” He nodded, then told him your name in return. “Nice to formally meet you”

“Pleasure’s all mine” You gave him a charming smile. “So, what does such a handsome man do in such a place?”

He visibly blushed at your compliment. You could see he was not used to receiving blunt raises like that, but he really was handsome and you had to say it out loud. His bright eyes and sharp features drew you in just as much today as they did a few days back at the gala, where you had desperately wanted to stay and chat for a while before kidnapping the mayor. You still had time to spare today, so you wouldn’t miss your chance now.

“I- uh” He scratched the back of his neck, chuckling nervously. He didn’t seem like someone who would get nervous, but you thought it was cute. “My father, he wanted me to come with him. Publicity stunt I guess. What about you?”

“My cousin is a pilot” You lied easily. “I’m here for support”

“Oh! That’s great” He lifted the corner of his lips into a small smile. “Which car?”

Your expression turned sheepish. “... 43? 34?” You tried. “Something with a 4. I don’t know! I don’t follow the sport at all”

He chuckled. “Here for the free cocktails?”

“Guilty” You gave him a complicit grin. “Honestly my family just said ‘hey, let’s go to Gotham for the Nascar cup!’ and I followed because why not”

“I get it” He nodded as you began walking around side by side. He was more relaxed now, his hands in his pockets and his head tilted toward you. “My family does that all the time too. If one wants to go somewhere, usually the bunch follows”

“You have siblings?”

“Yeah” He grinned. “Four brothers and one sister, and I’m the middle child”

“Oh wow” You blinked. “How do you even deal with this?”

“By outsmarting them at every turn” He replied with a sarcastic sigh. “That and arming myself with enough information to blackmail them into doing my shit”

You laughed, throwing your head back slightly. You didn’t know, but his heart skipped a beat at the simple action. He thought it sounded like the sweetest melody he wouldn’t mind hearing again. “Sounds like a good survival strategy” You said. “So, you’re the smart one, eh?”

“I think I’ll go ahead and take this one” He nodded after a small pause. “You have no idea how low the bar is”

You laughed again, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “It sounds like a lot to deal with” 

“Do you have any siblings?”

You were walking slow around the outside part of the VIP lounge, under the sun. Clouds were coming and going, giving you intermittent moments of shade. It really was a nice day outside. You looked down. “No, not really”

You could feel his eyes on you, but it wasn’t harsh. Just curious, like he didn’t want to pry and ask. However, he had a gaze that seemed to see through everything at that moment, and you really didn’t want him to see through the half lies you built to avoid the truth. 

“I was adopted” You admitted, looking back up to him. That wasn’t a lie.

“Oh” He blinked a few times in surprise. “So was I”

Your eyebrows raised at his quick answer. You half expected the bundle of invasive questions that usually came with it, but at that moment it was clear he wouldn’t require further explanations. You were glad he understood.

“We already have more in common that I would have expected” You smiled sweetly. “I’m glad we bumped into each other again”

“Y-yeah, me too” He nodded with a timid smile this time, like that little shy front took over again. You deducted it returned when you made a move on him so far, but he didn’t seem to dislike it either. 

“Maybe we--” You paused when you caught a glimpse of the time on the giant board on the other side of the track. If you kept going on like this you’d miss your window. Shit shit shit. “Oh shoot”

“What’s wrong?”

You recomposed yourself and gave him an apologetic smile instead of straight up bolting away. “I told my mother I’d be down by the pits for the beginning of the race, she’s going to start calling me non stop soon”

His face dropped slightly in disappointment. “Oh, yeah, maybe you shouldn’t worry her”

“Sorry, Tim” You pouted, before lifting your finger and going to the nearest bistro table, and took a napkin from the fancy display. You then snatched a pen from a man walking by, ignoring his protests, and you wrote your number on the fragile material. yOu handed back the pen without looking at the angry man and went back to Tim, who had an amused expression on his face. “Here”

“Thanks” The smile returned on his lips as he glanced down quickly at the digits.

“Call me sometimes, yeah?” You winked, walking backwards. He lifted the napkin and nodded, then you were gone.

As you jogged down the secondary staircase, you forced yourself to put Tim at the back of your mind. There was no rule in your contracts to regulate your private life, but it was obvious you couldn’t let anything get in the way of your mission. You got down to the pits and sneaked in a small storage room, where a change of clothes was waiting for you. You pulled off the stupid hat and took off your clothes to change into a tight black suit and a holster belt for your gun and the roll of duct tape at the bottom of the bag. You finally pulled the black helmet as the finishing touch and got out undetected.

You returned into the pits like nothing, blending with the flow of people gradually becoming more important as you got closer to the garage #29. You really looked no different from the staff with darker suits, only missing the sponsors patches. Behind your visor you spotted the driver you were looking for, seemingly arguing with a blonde girl and walking away, throwing his hands in the air.

The timing couldn’t be more perfect.

You followed him as he watched intensely his cellphone, going somewhere quiet. He paused in a corner away from prying eyes, typing quickly. You stepped in front of him and waited a few seconds until his eyes lifted up to you.

“What the fuck do you want?” He grumbled. “Go back to work”

“If you’re asking so nicely” You said, pointing your gun at him as you dropped your bag on the floor. 

“Yo what the f--” 

You used his momentarily surprise to side step him and sneak an arm around his neck. He trashed in your hold until he went limp. You let him drop on the floor and began undoing his suit, pulling it off with a few difficulties when the limbs were concerned. You then slipped it on and bound the driver at the wrists and ankles, then taped his mouth and threw the roll on him. You returned to the pits, ignoring people who tried to talk to you, including the blonde from earlier. You went straight for the car and slipped in, only waiting for the crew chief to place one last word before you headed for the start line, getting into your designed position. As the other cars joined the start grid as well, you warmed up your tires like the rest of the pilots around you. You observed the commands of the car, making sure you hadn’t forgotten a function since your quick training in nascar driving. 

Soon enough, the lights turned green. You didn’t hurry like some cars, you opted to lay low in the main platoon. You would avoid getting attention to yourself that way. You especially chose an average team to hijack, so nobody would expect you to be leading or trailing behind. You made sure to spot your target a few cars in front of you; a bright orange car with the number 12 painted in blue. 

The pilot was your target. He was one of Gotham’s influential men, drawing attention with his sudden philanthropy gestures and involvement in city politics. He liked to flash his money out, and that apparently went through buying an entire nascar team and racing as the pilot as well. But his fervent support for Batman and his bunch of vigilantes got him a big red dot on the forehead by other influential characters of Gotham. Falcone did not appreciate the support for his enemy. 

You counted your laps, getting closer to the 34th. You launched your offensive, accelerating and taking your curves more towards the center. You swerved around cars to come head to head on the right of 12, taking your gun from the inside of your suit. You rested the nozzle on your elbow to stabilize your aim, then waited out the curve. As soon as the track hit the straight line, you shot three bullets in his neck and retreated your gun again. You saw the body fall back into the seat, the car losing control and crashing in another one. 12 went up in the air, flipping several times before the yellow flag went out. 

The medical staff hurried to the accident, and you knew they’d soon see the bullets and stop the race. So when the pits came into view, you got in. Staff were flagging you off, yelling at you in confusion as to your presence there. You only accelerated, knocking equipment as you went. You pulled the hand brakes to realize a 90° turn into the garages. People jumped out of your way as you escaped by the pits and to the outside of the stadium. You drove into several metal fences until you ended up in the fan zone. Only the security was there, but they were on foot or on segways, so they didn’t stand a chance. You tore through the Cup banner and drove straight for the highway. 

Drivers honked as you speeded by them, heading for the city before the police helicopters could spot you. The buildings would provide you with a much needed cover, even if the risk of you crashing would be greater with significantly more obstacles. As you entered the first shadow of the skyscrapers, you took an exit ramp to Chinatown. You accelerated in the traffic, rolling on the sidewalks and knocking down trash cans as you went. You crossed through five just-turned red lights, causing one small pile up at the junction of one of the big avenues. You knew the helicopter was hovering somewhere close, and the police began tailing you once you entered Gotham Lower. However, the motorcycles were no match for a Nascar grade car. 

However, you knew the game was on when you heard something being thrown onto your door and denting in the metal. A pointy end got through, and immediately, you knew what it was: Batman had entered the game. You were surprised he’d show up in the daylight. 

You were even more surprised when you noticed it wasn’t in fact Batman, but his pupil in red. He was on an unmarked motorcycle with a black helmet, trailing slightly behind so you couldn’t shoot him with a good aim through the window. So instead, you took a series of sharp turns in hope you could shake him off, as you didn’t have a rocket launcher to deter him from following you this time. You ended up in the Diamond District, where you decided to change your strategy. If he wanted a piece of you, he could have it. 

You made a last turn into a dead end alley, then made a U-turn and waited at the end. Soon enough, you saw Red Robin pull up at the other end. He put a foot down as he came to a halt, no doubt staring at you through the tinted visor of his helmet. You revved the engine a few times, your foot pressing on the gas pedal in controlled movements. He leaned on the bike, ready to accept your challenge.

Before he could prepare too much, you shifted gear and took off, clouding the brick wall behind you with smoke from your tires. He pushed the bike straight and accelerated too as you drove toward each other full speed. You were about to start a manoeuvre, but had to abort as three shurikens shattered your windshield. You stopped at the other end and faced him again, before punching your what remained of your windshield. Immediately after, you speeded toward him again. This time however, you didn’t leave him time to take out weapons. You deployed the emergency brake and gave a tug left to your steering wheel, making the rear of your car tracing an arch. Red Robin deducted your intention last second, and had to swerve into the pile of trash bags so as to not get violently reaped. You took the opportunity to drive off back into the streets, where the police presence had quadrupled and the traffic cleared. 

But you had a plan for that too.

As if on cue, two identical cars to yours pulled out from garages on both your sides. You changed formation, placing yourselves one after the other and changing the order every two intersections. When you felt like you had confused the police enough, you drove into an underground garage, forcing the police to slow down. You however, cruised over the speed bump without a hassle. After a tight, 180 degrees turn, you slipped into a side unit, where a member of your team closed the door right after. You stopped the car and heard the police fly by, holding your breath. Then, silence fell. You pulled off your helmet, then slipped out of the car through the window.

You took the phone your team member handed you, pressing the first and only number saved.

“It’s me” You spoke up when the other end picked up. “It’s done”

“Great work, (Y/N). Meet back at the corner of sixth and 24th” 

“Copy that” You replied and hung up, letting the phone fall on the ground and crushing it with your boot. You caught the bag with your change of clothes, slipping out of the suit and putting on the clothes to blend in outside. 

You sneaked out of the garage, regaining the busy streets of Gotham with a smirk.

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3.

Chapter 37: Martin Prime

It was weird hearing his fiancé arguing with someone who sounded like him but wasn’t, Martin mused idly. Like listening to a tape he didn’t remember recording.

It was also weird, and would probably always be weird, that he could tell the difference between Jon’s voice and Past Jon’s voice, at least when he was paying attention and not overly upset. Theoretically they were the same person. Practically, they were very different, just because of what they’d both been through. Jon’s voice had just the faintest rasp to it, the lightest bit of scarring on his vocal chords from both Daisy’s knife and Jane Prentiss’ worms, and Past Jon’s voice was a tad softer, less hardened by time and circumstance. The distinction in their voices was subtle, but it was enough.

“You knew about the bullet. You should have said something to her,” Jon said, for what was at least the fifteenth time in the last week. Martin could imagine him waving his arms as he did so. “If she gets shot because she didn’t know to avoid it—”

“It wasn’t like I had an opportunity in the conversation,” Past Martin protested. “I did tell her to be careful.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jon demanded.

From the stress on you, Martin guessed he’d turned the argument on someone else, and it was Past Jon who answered. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, don’t worry, you’ll come back alive but with a ghost’s bullet in your leg that’s going to make you irrationally angry’? I did the best I could. We were recording.”

“I’ve told you before, the recorders aren’t the Eye—”

“Uh, I need to take this back to the library before it closes for the weekend,” Tim said, but it didn’t seem to make an impression on the argument that Sasha was now chiming in to.

“He’s right, you should have told her. Should have warned her against joining the Institute, too.”

“I can do that when she gets back,” Past Martin pointed out.

“I told Basira what was going on,” Sasha said.

“But not in relation to herself,” Past Jon said. Martin could imagine that being accompanied by an accusing jab of the finger,  but he wasn’t going to make assumptions. “Besides, that’s different. Basira is the type to weigh all evidence and theories against her options when making a decision. Melanie’s more the type to give in to emotion, especially anger. It’s impossible to tell which way she’d go if you gave her that kind of information first. It’s very likely to make things worse.”

“Don’t you Know at me, Jonathan Sims.”

Tim made a noise imitative of a supermarket’s tannoy crackling to life. “Manager to Mr. Kettle, manager to Mr. Kettle, there’s a Ms. Pot for you on line two.”

“Would that be the pot calling the kettle back?” Martin asked. He was rewarded with a choked-off laugh from Tim’s direction, but he was pretty sure nobody else in the room heard either one of them. With a sigh, he heaved himself out of the armchair. “Want me to come with you to take that book back? This is going to take a while.”

“Sure. We’ll be back, guys.” Tim evidently directed this at the others, but again, no reaction from anyone. He sighed. “Here, give me your arm. Bringing your cane?”

“Better not, just in case we run into someone. Get me to the stairs and I should be okay.”

The sound of the argument faded into the background as they made it to the steps; Martin let go of Tim’s arm and gripped the railing instead. By leaning forward, he could anticipate when they hit a landing. “Thanks. What’s the book on, by the way?”

“Oh, it’s one of the circus books. I—I know I’m obsessing a little about it. I know the circus itself isn’t the important bit, but…I don’t know. Forewarned is forearmed, I guess.” Tim was silent for a moment. “Unless it is something about circuses that are important.”

“No, not really. Just…an excuse, I guess.” Martin tried to put into words what even Jon had never asked his opinion on; there hadn’t been much of a chance before the Unknowing, and after it there hadn’t been much of a point. “I’ve noticed that’s one of the places the Stranger is drawn to, is the entertainment industry. Not just the circus, but the theater. I-I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s not the only one drawn to it. You know as well as I do the damn things overlap, like the bleed on the edge of colors.”

“Mm…hang on, I have a question, but we’re hitting the main floor. I’m gonna throw my arm around your shoulders like I’m telling you a bad joke, okay?”

“Thanks. And thanks for the warning.” Martin braced himself against the railing.

Tim’s arm came down heavily over Martin’s shoulders, and he turned his face towards him, hoping anyone passing them would assume he was engrossed in Tim’s extremely skewed sense of humor. True to his word, Tim picked up in the middle of a joke as they left the stairwell. “…the Brother Superior stands up as usual and sings, ‘Good morning, broooo-theeers.’ And all the brothers sing back, ‘Good moooor-niiiiiiing,’ except for the one little brother who’s rebelling. He sings out—”

“’Night, Martin,” a sweet, young-sounding voice called.

“Night,” Martin called back. It sounded like Manal, but he didn’t want to risk saying the wrong name and drawing attention to himself.

“Oh, hey, are you heading upstairs?” The voice got closer, and Martin and Tim drew to a halt. “This came in the mail drop for Mr. Bouchard. I meant to bring it up right away, but we got slammed with students and I forgot. Must be the first paper of the term coming up due. Can you give it to Rosie, please?”

“Sure, no problem.” Martin reached out uncertainly and—fortunately—touched a cardboard packet; he was able to grab it before it became obvious that was luck. He hoped. “Have a good night, Manal.”

“You too.”

Tim got them started walking again, continuing as he did, “Anyway, so the brother who’s rebelling sings, ‘Good eeeeeeve-niiiiiiing.’ A hush falls over the whole refectory. Brother Superior stands up, looks around the room, looks each brother in the eye, and then sings, ‘Someone chanted eveniiiiiiing…’”

Martin let out a long, protracted groan. “God, Tim, how long have you been sitting on that one?”

“Years,” Tim admitted sheepishly. “You’ve got to have the right audience for it, you know? Someone who both appreciate puns and knows enough about music to catch the reference.”

“If I could see you, I would hit you.”

“Must be my lucky day. Mind the steps.”

Martin switched the cardboard packet to his other hand in favor of the railing, and was surprised when someone tugged it away from his fingers. “Hey—”

“Sorry, should’ve warned you I was doing that,” Tim said. “I just figured it’d probably be better if I hand it off to Rosie, since…” He trailed off.

Since Martin couldn’t see her, wouldn’t know where to find her, and the last time he’d been in her office it had been…somewhat different. He tried to push the image of the top of the Panopticon out of his mind. “Yeah, probably for the best. If she’s still there.”

“She will be. Always one of the last ones out the door. Not sure how much of it is Elias keeping her to the last minute and how much of it is she doesn’t want to miss anything.” Tim paused. “Speaking of being unbearably nosy, wonder what Elias is getting from one of the Lukases that can’t be delivered in person?”

“They don’t like doing anything in person if they can help it, Tim. It’s kind of their whole…deal.” That close to Elias’ office, it didn’t feel safe to mention the Lonely out loud, or any of the fears, really. “I very much doubt we’ll find out, though.”

The railing didn’t level out—it just stopped, something Martin discovered when he almost pitched forward from abruptly not having something to lean on. He caught himself against the wall with a rather loud slap and thanked his lucky stars he’d always had a (mostly undeserved, to be honest) reputation as a klutz. Assuming anyone was still around, they’d probably just think oh, Martin tripped over his own two feet again, insofar as they thought about it at all. Rosie was probably watching, though.

That was confirmed—more or less—when Tim said in a bright, jovial voice, “Rosie! Good to see you. Can you give this to Elias? Manal asked us to bring it up.”

“Of course.” Rosie’s voice sounded just like Martin remembered it, and he curled one hand into a fist to stave off the memory of her staring up at them, face perfectly blank except for her eyes, somewhere between dazed and terrified, as she blandly asked if they had an appointment…

Not for the first time, Martin wished there had been any other way of protecting him from the Eye than by destroying his vision. Setting aside the usual, mundane difficulties that came with total blindness—difficulties any person faced with complete loss of sight would have to deal with—there was the simple fact that the last thing Martin had seen, live and in person, had been a post-apocalyptic hellscape. The last time he had seen the Institute, it had been a tower of black glass and twisted steel looming up into the stratosphere; the last time he had seen London, it had been swarming with very interested cameras and monitors and paintings of eyes; the last time he had seen the sky, it had seen him back. He could remember the way things had been before, but those last impressions were awfully powerful, and it hurt.

“Was there anything else, Tim?” Rosie asked. Martin frowned slightly. Under her voice was something eager, something…hungry. She wanted something, and he wondered what it was. He remembered Jon’s unwilling statement, where he’d talked about her constant desire for secrets—she could probably give Sasha a run for her money in terms of snooping, and no wonder Gertrude had always talked to her as if she was in the know. Was that all it was? Was she prying for secrets? Or—Martin bit his lip—was it possible she’d been taken over by the Not-Them, that she was drawn to Tim because of his Stranger mark? She sounded like he remembered, but if she were replaced in this past, would it replace his memories of the future, too?

He bit back a groan. Douglas Adams was wrong about the biggest problem to time-travel being grammatical tenses; clearly, the biggest problem was making sense out of the recursive nature of body-stealing, memory-altering creatures.

“Nope, that ought to do it. Gotta get to the library before they lock it up for the night. Have a good weekend, Rosie.” Tim knocked twice on something wooden, probably her desk, then came over and touched Martin’s arm. “Let’s go, Freckles.”

“Night, Rosie,” Martin called, because he would have before and Past Martin would too and there was no sense in making Rosie—or Elias, if he was still there—suspicious. He could imagine the false, charming smile she flashed in his direction, but there was no audible response and he didn’t expect one. Instead, he simply linked arms with Tim, let him lead him down the corridor, and prayed nobody had left a door open for him to run into.

The sensation of stepping into the library was instantly a familiar one to Martin—the feeling of stepping into a soaring, open space, but an oddly safe one—odd because of the sheer number of truly dangerous and terrifying works contained there. Any book with Jurgen Leitner’s bookplate on it was destroyed long before it got this far, of course, but even before he’d gone to the Archives, Martin had wondered if someone would be able to tell one of Leitner’s books if the bookplate was papered over or removed. Once he’d learned the truth, that Leitner had been a collector rather than the author or even the commissioner, he’d wondered how many books of power were actually in the Institute’s library. On the one hand, it didn’t seem likely that Jonah Magnus would allow any genuinely powerful books to get this far; on the other hand, it would certainly explain the library’s asinine and borderline ludicrous lending procedures.

Martin hung back by the door, sliding his hands into his pockets and hoping he was sufficiently out of the way of everyone bustling to get their assigned tasks completed so they could be out the door on time. Idly, he wondered who was on the desk. He’d usually ended up working it on Friday afternoons; everybody else hated it because, as Rebecca had once complained, there was always one person who came back with an enormous stack to return with ten minutes to go before they were supposed to clock out. Every book had to be checked against three different lists, certain inspections had to be made, and the identity of the person returning the book had to be checked twice. And it all had to be done by hand; every attempt to automate and bring in a computer had been met with catastrophic failure. Martin had actually kind of enjoyed it, especially since it usually meant he was left alone at the end of the week and could take his time, lingering over shelves and experimenting with the acoustics. If he thought he could get away with it, he might creep up here some evening after the Institute was closed and throw a few more songs into the darkness. It was different in the Archives.

“Well, hello there, Martin!”

Martin almost leapt out of his skin and whirled around, his heart pounding. “Jesus!”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” The voice was coming from roughly Martin’s height, but that was about all he could tell, that and that it was female. It had no distinctive characteristics, nothing to trigger a name in his mind. And yet, whoever owned it knew his name, which meant it was someone he should know. He’d have to bluff. “Haven’t seen you up here in a while.”

“Yeah, just—been busy,” Martin said lamely. He waved in the direction of the desk. “Kind of figured you’d be glad to see the back of me, to be honest.”

“Oh, now, why would you think that?” The woman, or at least Martin presumed it was the woman, patted him on the cheek with a soft, fleshy hand; he tried not to flinch at the unexpected touch, or the unpleasantly dry feel of her palm. “You’re such a hard worker, and always so cheerful. You’ve been missed, but I’m sure Jon appreciates having you in the Archives.”

If this was a joke, Martin didn’t think it was very funny, but he managed a smile anyway. “Well, we all had a settling-in period, but that’s in the past now. I do miss it up here sometimes, but I like being down there, too.”

“And we’re very glad to have him,” Tim said, suddenly right next to Martin. “C’mon, buddy, we’ve got a weekend to catch before it slips away…have a good one.”

“You, too, Tim. And you, Martin. Don’t be such a stranger—come back and visit us more often. We’d love to see you again.”

“Sure,” Martin said softly. “’Night.”

Tim didn’t say anything the rest of the way back down to the Archives, which Martin appreciated. Going down stairs was a hell of a lot more complicated than going up; he couldn’t lean as safely, and the kick-and-drag method was a bit less effective. It took concentration to keep from pitching forward and tumbling down the entire flight, and if he tried to spare any braincells for conversation, Martin was pretty sure he’d end up missing his footing. Tim’s hand at his elbow helped, especially since the main floor was crowded with people leaving for the day. A few called greetings to Tim, but they all ignored Martin, which was fine by him.

There was a sense, when they re-entered the Archives, of an argument put on hold, something that was confirmed when the first thing Martin heard anyone say was Jon’s voice. “What do you think, Martin?”

“Gender is a social construct, Shakespeare is overrated, and paisley is horrendously tacky no matter what color it is,” Martin replied promptly. Someone hastily turned a snigger into a cough.

“I mean, about whether or not you would have told Melanie more about what to expect in India.”

Martin felt around until he located a chair. “I think my opinion doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters,” Past Jon protested.

“Not in this.” Martin met Jon’s hand coming towards him and squeezed it gently. “What I would have done doesn’t have a lot of relevance here. It’s not our story anymore.”

“What?” Past Martin sounded genuinely confused. “Of course it’s—”

“I mean,” Martin said quickly, “that you’re not us and we’re not you. What I was like at this point in things isn’t anywhere near where you are, and vice versa. Same with Jon and your Jon. To be honest, I don’t even know if I would have made the effort to be friends. But at this point, things are different enough that telling you how we would do it isn’t very…efficient, I guess? It’s your story, your lives. You’re the ones shaping it. Trying to do things the way we wish we’d done it…well, if the circumstances aren’t the same, it won’t have the same outcome necessarily. You’ve got to do what you think is best.”

“That’s…a good point, actually,” Jon admitted. He sighed. “I apologize for lecturing.”

“’S all right,” Past Martin said. “Gave me a chance to stand my ground and all.”

“Which you need to do more often,” Tim said cheerfully. “Anything to boost your self-esteem.”

“Ouch, Tim, really?” The effectiveness of Sasha’s reproof was lessened by the obvious smirk in her voice.

“Yeah, okay, I probably shouldn’t have said it like that, but it’s true. I’m not completely oblivious, you know. I can put the pieces together, and from the little you’ve said about working in the library, I got the impression you thought they hated you up there. Especially Diana.”

“They did,” Past Martin protested. “The only one who ever even spoke to me directly was Diana, and even that was just to give me orders. It’s hard not to know someone hates you when their method of asking you for help is to wait until you’re in earshot and then tell someone else to ‘just leave that for Martin, he’ll fumble his way through it eventually’.”

“Did they really do that?” Jon asked quietly.

“Constantly,” Martin affirmed. “Speaking of, Tim, who the hell was that who was talking to me while you were checking that book back in? I didn’t recognize the voice.”

“Wait, seriously?” Tim said with an audible frown.

Martin sighed. “Look. Down here it’s pretty easy to tell who’s talking. You’ve all got pretty distinct voices from one another. It’s hard to tell my Jon and your Jon apart if I’m not concentrating, but there’s enough of a difference and I know you well enough to be able to figure it out, usually. But out there? If it’s not someone with a distinctive pitch or accent or speech pattern or whatever, it’s hard to tell. And something like ninety percent of the people who work here speak with the exact same voice. About all I could tell was that I was talking to a woman.”

“I guess that makes sense. Just figured you’d recognize Diana’s voice when you heard it.”

“Pretty sure I would. So who was that?”

There was a half-second’s pause before Tim said, “Diana.”

“Diana?” Martin repeated incredulously.

“You’re sure you didn’t recognize her?”

“No, and it’s not just the accent. I didn’t think the ladders got that close to where I was standing.” Martin rubbed his forehead. “God, my mental map of the library is all off now.”

Jon wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. Tim sounded bewildered. “What do ladders have to do with anything?”

“It sounded like whoever was talking to me was around my height. I mean, that could’ve been the way sound bounces in the library, but—”

“No, that’s—she is around your height. She always intimidated the hell out of me.”

Martin sighed. “Okay, I think we’re talking about two different Dianas here. Which Diana was this I was talking to?”

“Diana—what the hell is her last name? The head librarian?”

“Caxton,” Past Jon supplied.

Something cold trickled down Martin’s spine. “Describe her.”

“Uh—tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair that she usually wears piled up on top of her head, looks like a Quentin Blake illustration come to life—?”

“That’s who the artist is! I can never remember his name,” Sasha said, punctuating the remark by—from the sound of it—slamming her open hand against the desk.

“That’s not Diana Caxton,” Past Martin said decidedly. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, or why she would have told you she was, but—”

“It’s the Diana Caxton I know,” Past Jon said. “And you should, too. She was there when I took Melanie up the first time, said they missed seeing your smiling face up there.”

“Look, that’s not Diana,” Past Martin insisted. “I should know. I worked there for ten years, Jon. She’s shorter than five feet tall, her hair’s been completely silver for a while now, and she has a Korean accent. I don’t know who this woman is you’re describing, but it’s not Diana Caxton.”

Jon tensed, his arm tightening around Martin’s shoulders. Softly, he said, “I think it is now.”

There was a moment of horrible silence as that sank in. Martin had to admit that the idea of the Not-Them taking over Diana hadn’t even occurred to him. He’d just…assumed that if it was anyone, either it would be someone in Artifact Storage foolish enough to disregard the warnings or it would be Rosie. And, okay, maybe there’d been a foolish little part of him that had hoped it wouldn’t take over anyone. But somehow, the idea of it being Diana Caxton just felt wrong. It was true that she hadn’t liked him all that much when he’d worked for her, but then, he’d been unqualified and incompetent, bluffing his way along, and she’d likely had to pick up a lot of his messes. And he knew for a fact that the twice-widowed bookworm had a flock of grandchildren who adored her—he still remembered the day her youngest had come to visit, just before he’d been transferred to the Archives, and attached herself to Martin with a thousand innocent questions and bragging stories about “my Nana”. It wasn’t fair for anyone to be taken by that thing, but especially not someone like Diana.

There was a banging noise, like the Archives doors had just blown open, and Martin jumped, clutching at Jon’s arm. His first thought was that it was the Not-Diana, having realized they knew, coming to take them out. His second was that it was Elias, the jig would be up, and they would have to try and implement their plan now, and what if Jon wasn’t strong enough to do what had to be done and—

“Basira?” Sasha said, sounding somewhere between shocked and relieved. “What are you doing here?”

Oh. Martin relaxed, but not much. There was absolutely no hiding his or Jon’s presence. Past Jon sounded nervous as he said, “I can explain about—”

“Save it. I don’t care.” There was a thump and a rattle as Basira—her voice was unmistakable, too—dropped something on the desk in front of them. “Here.”

“Are those the tapes?” Past Jon asked.

“As many of them as I could get,” Basira replied.

“What happened, Basira?” Sasha’s voice was gentle, but—surprisingly—there was no static in it, even though Martin could almost feel it building in the room. It hit him, suddenly, that Sasha’s ability from the Eye didn’t enable her to ask for secrets. Only to take them. He decided to keep that particular unpleasant realization to himself for the moment. “I thought you said you were done with the Institute.”

Basira let out one of those frustrated noises Martin, unfortunately, knew all too well. “They’re covering it up. Altman’s death. Saying he was dirty. That he got stabbed in a drug deal gone wrong.”

“Wait, so the operation you went on—” Past Jon began.

“Doesn’t exist. I mean, I didn’t know Leo well, but…it’s not right. And they seemed happy enough to get me out the door.”

Someone poked at the box, if the rattle was any indication; Martin guessed it was Sasha, since she spoke again. “So why bring us the tapes?”

“Well, they’re sure as hell not going to solve Gertrude’s murder,” Basira said. “And from what you said the last time I was here, they’re probably of more use to you anyway, even if her death’s not in here. Before, I guess I had enough police in me not to steal evidence, but…”

“They’ve rather lost your loyalty,” Jon supplied softly. Martin slipped his arm around his waist and pulled him close.

“You won’t get in trouble for this, will you?” Tim asked, actually sounding concerned.

“Don’t think so. Daisy knows I’m bringing them to you. They won’t know they’re missing until they do inventory, and then only if they check the sectioned stuff.”

“Thanks, Basira,” Sasha said. “I owe you a drink or two. Just say the word.”

“Long as you promise not to talk shop,” Basira replied. “If I never hear another thing about this place…that’ll be enough for me.”

Martin heard footsteps starting to retreat across the Archives floor. Impulsively, he called out, “Basira.”

The footsteps stopped. “What?”

Martin looked in what he hoped was the right direction to look her in the eyes. “Keep her close. You’re her tether, and excuses only carry you so far.”

It was the same thing he’d said to her, once upon a time and simultaneously in a nonexistent future, loitering in the hallway of an abattoir outside an instrument room. She hadn’t wanted to listen then, and if he was honest, he hadn’t really taken his own advice all that well. He could only pray she would listen now, and that she would understand what he was talking about—and what he wasn’t saying. Don’t let your partner turn into a monster because it’s easier than saying stop.

After a moment, Basira said, her voice so soft it almost wasn’t audible, “Right.” With that, evidently, she left the Archives.

Jon pulled Martin around and wrapped him in a tight hug; Martin could feel his face pressing into his shoulder as he hugged him back. He, at least, had understood. They held each other for a moment, both hoping—despite what she’d done to them months ago—that Daisy could still be saved.

There was another rattle as someone poked at the tapes. “Where do we start?” Sasha asked.

“We go home,” Tim said firmly. “It’s Friday, and it’s past quitting time. Let’s just—let’s just go home, take the weekend to regroup, and we can come back and look through these on Monday. Maybe, um, maybe you two can go through and pick a few you think we ought to listen to.”

“Or,” Jon suggested, “we can sort them out. Gertrude labeled some but not others. If I set the blank ones aside, that might be good practice for you to sort out the color muddle. If that’s all right.”

“Either way, Tim’s right,” Past Jon said softly. “It’s late and we’re all tired. Especially…now. Let’s just go home. We’ll see you on Monday.”

Everyone wished one another goodnight, and the team departed, leaving Jon and Martin alone in the Archives. Martin waited a moment, then asked, “Do you want to start looking through them now?”

To Martin’s surprise, Jon hesitated for a minute, then said, “No. I think I want to put these in the Archivist’s office, and then I want to take a walk with my fiancé and maybe go out to dinner. What do you think of that?”

Martin smiled. He could feel himself blushing a little, but he didn’t care. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea.”

[black-streak]

Waiting for the Worms- Goodbye Cruel World

Part 22

Second to last chapter. The last chapter is almost going to be more like an epilogue, by the way. I fit... A lot into this? It feels like a lot even though it mostly stays all in one room in pretty much one continuous scene. Anyways, it's almost the end, my friends.

CLOSED LIST of wonderful people: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @emjrabbitwolf @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

"You are no longer permitted to leave the house," Damian huffed, crossing his arms and staring Mari down.

"Oh?"

"Yes. Every time you leave, you come back with even more strangers. You are obviously incapable of going out on your own without collecting strays."

"I don't know, you seem to enjoy all our guests so far," Marinette answered, ruffling the boy's hair before picking him up onto her hip and wondering over to the couch.

Dick dropped into the seat across from them, observing the way she coddled the boy settled onto her chest. Her eyes stayed glued to Damian, tracing fingers through his hair as Jason sat beside her, arm thrown over her shoulders. The rest of the team had dispersed, staying within the city despite the urge to travel, not comfortable leaving the two completely, though respecting their need for privacy in these times.

Tim stood across the room, carefully blank, but everyone in the room could tell he felt unsure which side he belonged on more. Closer to the man who acted as his older brother despite the distance or the two teens who took him in and provided him shelter as though he were their own.

"So. You're the soulmate who toyed with me all those years ago," Dick broke the silence, faulty irritation maring his expression.

"Oh don't act like you were oh so sure of my having one," Jason cut in, smirk inching across his face.

"I told you, you acted off sometimes! I even suggested it wasn't you really in there," he perked up at the easy response.

"Suggested, but never truly caught on enough to say for sure," Mari responded now.

Here, Dick narrowed in on her once more, "You're the one who altered my suit, weren't you?"

"Might have done."

"And adjusted my equipment?"

"Guilty."

"The haircut?!"

"That one was me actually. That mullet was burning my eyes," Jason admitted.

"And… saving Tim?" He asked with heavy, guilt ridden eyes, catching the yet silent teen's attention at the focus lying on him instead of the events surrounding his capture.

"Both," they answered together.

"I can't thank you enough for looking out for him. Preventing his death. I can't say what I would've done had Bruce gotten another Robin killed that way," Dick looked down at his clenched fists, his past fights over his successors with Bruce flashing into all of their minds. There was never meant to be a second Robin. Now one had died and another came close. "I'm sorry, you know. I should've been there for you. For both of you. I probably couldn't have stopped you from helping. From taking the title. But I could've done more, been there for you when you needed it. Been a better brother."

"It wasn't your responsibility to look out for us."

"Excuse me?"

"It would've been nice to be closer, but you had no duty to us. You never adopted us or asked to have your retired position given away. I won't hold it against you for not playing house with some kid who took your place when Bruce kicked you out."

"But I-"

"Act too much like a martyr. Come back apologizing for things you weren't responsible for. Seriously, it's fine. You weren't a thought in my mind when I went after Tim, over there. I just refused to watch someone else follow our fate. You have no place in this mess, beyond having some similar skeletons in your closet."

His fists loosened and his pupils widened, glinting in a watery haze, "No place in this? Jason, you can't think I-" Mari cut him off now.

"That isn't to say we wouldn't want you to stick around and find a place. Just that you shouldn't hold guilt over what happened to us. Your reactions and emotions held no merit in our death. You need to let this go. It wasn't your fault."

A smile lit his face, a perplexed little thing, as though he couldn't quite grasp the concept of not being responsible for the shortcomings of his adoptive father. He opened up his mouth as though to correct them, only for the door to open just then, an older man entering the home.

"Master Jason has become quite wise in his time away, has he not?"

Jason was the first to react, removing himself from the couch and meeting the man halfway to pull Alfred into a much needed hug. As the two embraced, Mari nudged Damian up to stand and led the way over. The two men seperated and turned towards them, Alfred appraising her with warm, knowing eyes.

"Miss Marinette, what a pleasure to see you in your own body."

 Letting out a bark of laughter, she lurched forward into a hug of her own before turning to gesture her boy closer, "Alfred, this is Damian. We came to be family before our escape," she picked her words with care, knowing he would understand her meaning without making it too easy for the other two in the room. Likely, the little bird in the room would figure it out without the added help.

The elderly butler introduced himself to Damian, taking the distrustful look and tense posture in stride as the kid took his hand carefully for a small handshake. He, however, did cut his eyes back to Marinette afterwards, a question in his eyes that she offered a shrug to. She couldn't answer with complete certainty, but knew Alfred saw the possibility of the kid's parentage. It helped that he already knew she had spent years in close proximity to Talia, explaining how this could come to fruition.

Damian took the moment to grab onto Jason's hand and tug slightly, letting his grip on Mari fall away as he was brought back towards the living room where the other two still watched, though Dick had stood up and now made his way over to offer his own greeting.

Marinette took this time to speak with Tim, who stayed quiet and still until now, "Tim?" His shoulders tensed in an aborted jump, "Would you like some time alone with Alfred?"

His eyes bore into her, studying her as though for ulterior motives, unsure what to make of the offer. She couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

"You saw him nearly everyday for two years. Your main caretaker and likely only human contact as a civilian that was consistent. To go from that to zero contact for weeks on end… surely that must be quite the adjustment. I can keep the rest occupied for now if you'd like."

His gaze stayed weary for only a second before gratitude leaked in, nodding once, "If you wouldn't mind."

"Of course. Go ahead, dear, I'll keep Richard from trying to hover and butt in," she smiled, ushering him forward right as Dick joined Jason back in the living room and Alfred made way to the kitchen, ever knowing exactly where he was needed. The layout may be open, but the position of the furniture and distance gave the two some privacy for the time being.

"Damian, was it?" Dick began as they settled into their seats once more.

"Yes."

"How old are you?"

"Why do you ask?" Dami retorted.

Dick's surprised look told them that Barbara had not felt the need to inform him of where the boy came from, if she even bothered to mention the child at all.

"Just curious is all. I would like to know who got so close with Jason and his soulmate."

"Marinette is more than just his soulmate, she's her own person," he growled, tensing up only for Jason to wrap his arms about him in a comforting gesture.

Dick immediately backtracked, "I didn't mean to imply otherwise. You're absolutely right and I'm sorry for implying anything else."

Damian glared before turning to look up at Jason, "Who is he, again?"

"That's Dick, my… older brother. So kind of like your uncle," Jason laughed at the kid's sour expression.

…

Over half an hour passed before Alfred and Tim made their way back into the living room, the four already present taking the time to catch up and get to know each other. Damian took this moment to suggest putting on a movie, which Marinette whole heartedly seconded. 

"Alright, anyone spending the night, get ready for bed! I'm not dragging you lot around half asleep and whiny," Jason announced, ushering Dami into his room as Tim headed for the bathroom and Marinette found herself grumbling on her way into the bedroom as Jason set up the movie. 

Upon returning, all in pajamas with teeth brushed, Marinette settled into the arm of the couch, Tim sat to her side and Dick remained in the armchair as Damian went into the kitchen for water, The Chronicles of Narnia starting up on the screen. When Jason joined them, he drew Alfred into a hug, the man having already offered his goodnight and well wishes to the group, and showed him out.  Having locked up and settled opposite to Mari, he let Damian pull himself up beside him only to drag the kid into his lap where he huffed in indignation, but snuggled closer.

No one fully bothered with the movie, softly speaking over it.

"Everything alright?" Mari whispered to Tim, the boy scooting closer to hear her better.

"Yeah, we just had a lot to talk about."

"Did it help?"

"... Yeah. He helped me work through some things. To make some decisions," he glanced at her, lips quirking up hesitantly.

"Oh? Anything I should know about?" She felt her own face lilt up with mirth and encouragement in equal parts.

Tim seemed to stop breathing for a second, wholy still and silent, before breaking into a slow, steady breath, "Marinette, would it be alright if I stayed here? Permanently?" 

She looked over his head to meet Jason's gaze, his eyes soft and warm, nodding in agreement. She saw both Dick and Damian lean forward, eyes fixed on them in rapt attention, awaiting her answer. She felt certain Tim knew of this, but kept his eyes firmly on her. Settling further into her seat, she took his hand gently and nodded.

"Of course you can, Tim. This is your home now too. We'll have to make some adjustments, though," she saw his expression turn wary, "No way are you living on the couch."

At that, his face twisted into a relieved gratitude, shoulders slumping and body falling back into the cushions, "Thank you," he murmured.

She felt her eyes soften as she slowly drew him into a hug, leaving room to escape, "Welcome to the family, Birdy."

…

Within an hour of the movie's start, Tim fell asleep, slumped against Marinette, where she wrapped her arms carefully around him, almost completely out herself.

"I'm glad he has you guys. I would've taken him with me when he first showed up, but let's be honest. I'm hardly equipped to take care of myself. At least there, he had Alfred," Dick spoke in hushed tones, taking in how the two almost cuddled together, how the small child, Damian, curled up against Jason's chest in a sleepy daze of his own. How they made a makeshift family unit. He couldn't help the pained twitch to his smile at their easy love for each other, "He's in good hands here. You make a much better older brother than I did."

"Don't give me that bullshit," Jason half sneered, eyes narrowed, "You did your best. Don't think I haven't noticed what you did for him. Went out of your way quite a few times. For all of us, whether you needed to or not. And this better not be goodbye either. I'm fed up with losing people. You're ugly mug better make a regular appearance around us or I'll never forgive you," Jason gave a cruel smirk, knowing Dick will see the sincerity of it despite this. He couldn't help but enjoy the return of their old antagonistic relationship.

An appreciative little smile spread over Dick's face as he stood up, the movie having ended already. He followed as Jason lifted Dami and made way to deposit the boy into his bed for the night. 

"Yeah… I suppose I could visit every now and then."

Stopping in front of the other two on the couch, he stared down at them for a moment, unsure how to move them. Mari took that moment to open her eyes, blinking blearily at them. They carefully maneuvered Tim up into Jason's arms so that she could stand up, only for her to tug them towards the bedroom where she made him place Tim into the bed, following him back out to say goodbye to Dick.

"He sleeps with us tonight? Poor birdy is touch starved," she sleepily asked, receiving a fake sigh of exasperation and agreeance.

They then watched as Damian snuck out of his own room and went into theirs as well.

"They're going to take over our room at this rate," he spoke without an ounce of regret. She only shrugged in acknowledgment.

At the front door, Dick tugged Marinette into an easy hug, wishing her a goodnight and to get some rest. Turning, he froze before dragging Jason into a tight, crushing hug, "I'm so happy you're okay, Jay. I missed you so damn much."

"Yeah. I missed you too," Jason hovered only to hug him back, face ducking into his shoulder. They pulled back and offered each other small, hopeful smiles before offering one last goodbye. And then Dick was gone.

Door locked, the two turned to each other, reaching out for the other's hand simultaneously. Their eyes met and without another word, they headed to bed, where the rest of their little family awaited them.