#to be fair he would’ve worn dick down eventually if he hadn’t wondered off to Ethiopia by himself

[notrobinsomethingworse]

Robin, pointing at the newly established Nightwing: Aren’t ya gonna do something about him?

Nightwing, full dicowing glory:

Robin: Ya look like you’re goin’ to a shitty disco to get all kinds of fucked up diseases.

Nightwing: Awww thank you little wing.

Robin: That wasn’t a compliment.

Batman: Be nice to your brother.

Robin, eyebrow raised: So ya approve?

Batman, thinking back to the time he tried to convince 9-year-old Robin into a pair of pants: I’ll give you $300 if you can get him to change it.

Jason: Deal.

[ethelphantom]

Lost But Never Forgotten

Ao3

This is Maribat -- Don’t like; Don’t read

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Marinette put his hand in Tim’s as they walked in silence, the cool breeze and the mist surrounding them only emphasising both of their feelings about the day. In her other hand, Marinette had a bouquet of flowers and there was a book in her bag she was planning on reading once they arrived.

Stepping through the big, cold, metal gates was intimidating and Marinette wished she hadn’t needed to come, but she did. There was no way she wouldn’t. She couldn't not come. She was going to spend as much time there as she could, even if that meant neglecting sleep and schoolwork. And vigilante work, she supposed. As much as she loved the citizens of Gotham and wanted to protect them, she knew she wouldn’t be able to do it right now.

It would be too difficult to go out on the streets when she knew there was someone that would never come back and another one who no longer deserved to live and had taken the life of someone who did so much good.

Who had done so much good, and who would have done so much more good if only he’d been left alive. If only it hadn’t been him who’d died and instead had been her.

Logically, Marinette knew it wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t even been there, to begin with. She also didn’t blame anyone who had been there, except for those who’d taken his life. It had been Jason’s own choice, his choice to save his brothers from the bullets, and for once, the kevlar he’d worn hadn’t been enough. Not against the number of bullets raining on him from every direction.

Tim squeezed her hand, and she knew he blamed himself for it even more than she did herself.

After all, he had been there and seen Jason die. Tim had had to watch Jason take his last breaths with so much struggle.

It wasn’t fair. Jason had just gotten a new chance at life after being brutally murdered by the Joker, and they’d all thought that maybe this time he could live until he was old. That he’d make it to his fifties, sixties and maybe even seventies. That he’d one day maybe find someone he loved enough to want to settle down with them, or maybe he would’ve liked to open a bookstore and help the kids and the women in the Crime Alley with all he got from there, buy them food and offer them shelter inside whenever they needed it because heavens knew he would've done it in a heartbeat. He had had such a wonderful heart.

Or maybe he would’ve liked to write a book at some point and create the strangest, yet the most wonderful foods anyone had ever tried before.

But…

Jason hadn't gotten to grow old.

Jason hadn’t even made it to his thirties.

Standing in front of the grave made Marinette feel sick. He had deserved so much more, he had deserved so much better. He had deserved to live and be happy and make up with Dick and Bruce and even Damian, and he had deserved to have fun with Artemis and Bizarro and Roy and Kori so much more. He had deserved to go to space again and see the relief and happiness on the faces of the children whom he saved.

He had deserved to recover.

And Jason...

He had gotten none of that.

And Marinette knew, as she sat down on the bench in front of the grave, that Jason would have preferred this way of dying. He hadn’t died because he was being an idiot, and he hadn’t died because of smoking or in an accident. He’d died saving three other people, three people who also did good and who loved him all in their own ways even if they had no idea how to show it.

Same had been with Jason. She knew he had loved his brothers more than he would have ever admitted out loud, if even to himself, and he cared about all of them. Out of all of the family, he might've been the one who cared the most. Just like them, he just didn’t know how to show it to them.

This, she supposed, showed them all how much it was, truly.

Tim sat next to her and pulled her close, rubbing circles on her arm, trying to calm her down. Trying to ground her.

“I just— he didn’t deserve to die,” she sobbed into Tim’s jacket, having hidden her face there. Tim nodded and pressed a light kiss in her hair.

“I know.”

“It isn’t fair! He would have done so much more good still and now he’s just— he’s just gone.”

“I know, ‘Nettie. I wish I had seen the gunmen earlier so I could have made sure none of us died, or that I had at least gotten between him and the bullets.”

“You wouldn’t have deserved to die.”

“Perhaps, but he deserved to live more. He already had to go through dying once.”

Marinette couldn’t even find it in herself to disagree. After all, she had the same thoughts. Had she been there, she would have wished she could have sheltered Jason from the bullets as well, even if her body wouldn’t have been big enough to keep him from getting shot. Hell, she wished it even though she hadn’t been there and there was absolutely nothing she could have done about it.

She could see where he was coming from.

“Do you want to read the book to him? I know you brought it with you for that exact reason,” Tim said, loosening his hold on her enough to let her take the book out of her bag and open it.

She started reading it, first quietly, but then she started getting used to reading out loud and was able to read a little louder. Maybe he was somewhere close and listened to her reading his favourite book — and even if he didn’t, the thought brought her comfort regardless.

Tears ran down her face most of the time she was reading, but eventually speaking became too hard and she had to stop. Marinette hated it — she wanted to be able to read more. There was no way she was this weak.

Tim just squeezed her lightly before picking up the book from her hands. She tried to resist, insisting that she could still read more, but Tim was unrelenting and took it from her. When it was in his hands, he pulled Marinette closer and asked her where she left off. Marinette weakly pointed to the spot, and that was where Tim started reading. Out loud, as well. He made sure the book would get read.

Tim didn’t start crying in the middle of reading.

It wasn’t like he didn’t miss Jason, no. It was just that he’d lost too many people by now, and it wasn’t new to him. He knew how to keep himself together a little better than Marinette did. That, and he had a hard time crying in front of other people. He was too used to losing his loved ones.

What a sad thought that was.

Both of them, Marinette and Tim, knew perfectly well he also couldn’t cry in front of her because he felt like he needed to be a support for her. He was her best friend and she was one of his — there was a reason they had started dating even in the midst of the vigilante scene —, but he was also the reason Jason was dead. Well, one of the three reasons. For that reason, they both knew he felt like he needed to be there for Marinette so she wouldn’t fall apart, because he blamed himself for Jason’s death already, and this was all he knew how to do to help Marinette. Marinette, who had always gone to Jason whenever she needed advice on anything, who had started to think of Jason as her brother at some point.

Now Marinette just needed to find a way to make sure Tim wouldn’t feel alone either and work himself to death. He didn’t deserve it either. He wasn’t supposed to fall apart either.

They sat there in front of the grave for hours. A lot of it was spent reading. The rest of it was either spent staring at the grave like they expected Jason to dig his way out again, or they talked to Jason and told him — or the grave — about all sorts of things.

It was just wrong to think that someone like Jason needed to die again, be murdered again, all because he loved and cared way too much for his own good. It wasn’t fair.

And it wasn’t like they could resurrect him either. It wouldn’t be fair.

That was why Tim and Marinette just left the cemetery, silent. Weeping quiet tears that neither would ever mention again, both well aware they were going to be there the next day again, as well as the one after that, and probably all the other following days too. The cycle would repeat. It would keep repeating.

Because the least they could do for Jason now was to make sure he wouldn’t be forgotten.

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@kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @daminett4life @abrx2002 @persephonebutkore @rebecarojas07 @corabeth11 @freshbark @maribat-march2020 @catsandfanfic @fertileleaf @eat0crow @cutechip