#too bad Bruce was only using her and never intended for her to stay Robin regardless

[duskdog]

Wondering, vaguely, if Steph's age had any influence on how Bruce viewed/interacted with her.

She was 15 when he met her, and would have been 16-extremely-close-to-17 (I am personally a "Steph was 17" truther because the timeline doesn't actually work otherwise; I would call the 16 an error, but it's what's stated in canon, so...) when she became Robin and died. That's significantly different than Dick and Damian, who came to Bruce quite young, and even Tim and Jason, who were a little older but still not as old as Steph when they first came under Bruce's wing. (I think it's important to remember that, until adulthood, even just a couple of years can make an enormous difference in development and how a child views/interacts with adults. 16 can potentially be very different than 13.)

I imagine there must be a difference between working with a Robin who is literally a child, and one who's very nearly an adult. Particularly Steph, who had been parentified from a fairly young age and very likely felt much older than her actual years at times.

Honestly, we'll probably never know for sure because their time together as Batman and Robin was so short... and because of the other, bigger factors that influenced their relationship: namely the fact that she was disposable to him as Robin (not as in "he was okay with her dying", but as in "he was only using her as Robin to achieve a goal and wasn't at all concerned with her feelings or well-being in that respect"). And of course, her gender, because that would also have influenced how they interacted, regardless of whether either of them wanted it to or not.

More interestingly, though, is the method by which Steph became Robin. She and Tim were the only "proactive" Robins -- the ones who came to Bruce with knowledge/intent, rather than being children he chose to take in and eventually mentor (and Damian, who was raised for the mantle, but from Bruce's perspective just sort of got dropped on his doorstep). And Steph is the only Robin who had any experience operating as a vigilante prior to her time as Robin. Even before she became Spoiler, she already had knowledge and understanding of the world of masks and capes thanks to her father's shenanigans.

We know that Bruce is very stubborn and often single-minded, himself. Love him or hate him, I don't think many people would deny that he very much always expects to be the smartest and most capable person in the room. (After all, he often is.) He frequently clashes with his peers, and often refuses outside help, particularly when it comes to his own "territory".

The Robins have historically been different, because they're his. He inherently has a position of power over them due to their ages and his position as guardian/mentor/teacher. (Please note that I don't intend "position of power" to be negative in this case -- I intend it the same way that I'd say any parent or teacher is in a position of power over a child under their care.) He's the one in charge. He's the one doing the training. He's the one supplying the gear. And they're young. Psychologically, this is a very different dynamic than Batman interacting with, say, Green Arrow (using them as parallels because they are both normal human "just trained our bodies and minds to do amazing shit" heroes).

But Steph comes into this mantle as very-nearly a grown woman -- someone who has cared for her mother like a parent at times, someone who has taken responsibility for her father's crimes onto herself, someone who has had an actual literal baby and had to make the extremely adult choice about what would be best for that baby and for herself. She has never depended on Bruce Wayne for food or shelter or affection. She has never depended on him for training (he did train her for a while, and she was happy about it, but remember -- he approached her -- and when he ghosted her, she actively sought out training elsewhere, so she knows he's clearly not the only game in town). She started as Spoiler with nothing but her own homemade costume and gear she cobbled together, and she continued as Spoiler on her own in defiance of him. He definitely had power over her in a way -- that is, influencing how other Gotham vigilantes thought of her and treated her, to the point of trying to directly forbid Cass from interacting with her -- but not in the way of a father over a daughter, or an adult over a child, or even a hero over a sidekick (until she became Robin). Steph made Spoiler all by herself. And she stayed Spoiler mostly by herself, without much support (what support she did get was shaky and/or didn't last). And she came to Bruce and put herself forward as Robin, as a nearly-17-year-old who was already psychologically an adult in at least some ways.

That has to have a real impact on how they would interact. Steph is frequently described as stubborn and defiant as Robin, but she's operating as sort-of an adult with her own independence and agency in a way that the other Robins were not when they first became Robin. Meanwhile, Bruce is used to dealing with new Robins as children/fledglings. The initial Batman-and-Robin-as-partners growing pains for each of the other three Robins up until that point would have had a very, very different tone than that same growing pains period for Bruce and Steph.

Which is sort of a shame, because I think they would have eventually realized that they have a lot in common. And that even some of their differences could have actually been good for their partnership. (For instance, when Steph realized she had been chattering in his ear all night back during her first mentorship and was mortified, and Bruce basically told her it's fine, keep talking, he sort of liked it? I think he actually meant that.)

[forestlingincorporated]

I wanna talk about Janet Drake

I’m not against exaggeratedly evil versions of Tim’s parents, tbh. It’s fanfiction, if we can depict an Exaggeratedly Good version of Bruce (which we can, and I do, and I love) then we can depict the Drakes as Exaggeratedly Bad. As someone who personally identifies with Tim, and his brand of complicated parental abuse in particular, I find it cathartic to uncomplicate that abuse and rescue him from the Obviously Evil Bad People. 

That said, since much of comics lore is passed down word of mouth, the oral tradition surrounding Tim has developed this idea of Janet as The Worse Parent between her and Jack that was never really present in the comics. We see much LESS of Janet, and we have 20 years worth of comics depicting Jack as a neglectful hotheaded idiot who ultimate does love his son. More importantly, Jack isn’t very much LIKE Tim, so there is a habit to attribute Tim’s traits to his mother... and, as someone who really really identifies with Tim, Tim has... some negative traits. Tim can be a bitch sometimes. He’s fiercely intelligent and sweet and kind, with a strong sense of justice, but he can be cold and judgmental and unthinking - he fights those traits, but he does have them. 

And it is perfectly fine to depict Janet that way. I’ve enjoyed depictions of Cold Calculating Janet Drake, but it’s not the ONLY option, and I want to challenge fans to consider different avenues. Tim could pick up these traits from anywhere: a nanny, Mrs. Mc Ilvaine (”Mrs. Mac”), a teacher, tv, Sherlock Holmes novels, Bruce Wayne himself. Tim is capable of not being like EITHER parent. 

So, what do we KNOW about Janet? (I’ll also touch on Jack, but only in scenes he appears with Janet.) 

When Janet was first introduced she was depicted as a gentle but “modern” woman. This was written in 1989, told by a 13 year old Tim, so this theoretically was meant to take place in 1979. I’m not here to give a lecture on the history of sex discrimination in the united states, but much of the legislation protecting women in the workforce or surrounding women’s bodily autonomy would have been very very new in this initial depiction. 

Here, Janet is shown to be encouraging, emotional, maternal, and projects her own feelings onto Tim. Jack is shown to be slightly sexist, possibly discouraging, but not overbearing. And the artist is shown not to know how to draw children. 

To insert some speculation, I think it’s important to note all the Drakes witnessed a terrible murder/accident that day. I point this out, because this is the last time Jack and Janet are depicted this way. It’s possible they changed as a result of this event specifically. 

However, this is also a story being told by Tim. It’s also possible these events aren’t really “real” at all, and Tim is misremembering what his parents were like as a three-year-old, possibly projecting a more palatable version of his parents into the narrative. This is entirely up to personal interpretation. 

In fact, the Drakes are shown in Legend of the Dark Knight attending Haly’s Circus, and the artist knows what a toddler looks like and they’re depicted as already having a slightly strained relationship. Jack is clearly on the defensive, and Janet seems to be passive-aggressive, though she could just be attempting to explain the situation to her toddler honestly. The intended tone isn’t especially clear. 

I do want to point out, in this depiction, Tim isn’t being carried like he was in the previous one. He’s walking ahead of his parents, which isn’t a terrible horrible crime, but could be dangerous in a crowded place like the circus. Might be a subtle hint to his parents overall neglect. 

Back to A Lonely Place of Dying, in Tim’s memories of the night he discovered Robin and Dick Grayson were the same person at nine-years-old, his parents are home, and watching TV together while Tim played... trucks, idk, in the living room with them. (This is semi-interesting, because you could say “oh, Tim liked vehicle toys as a kid” or you could extrapolate that this is another subtle indication of Jack’s sexism, providing Tim with appropriately “boy toys.” Either interpretation is valid. If Tim was assigned female at birth, would they have been given “girl toys,” or allowed to play with whatever they wanted?) 

This is, to my knowledge, the only panel of the Drakes when Tim is between ages 3 and 13. They’re all together, which might indicate that the Drakes were home more often when Tim was 9, only later going on business trips when Tim was “old enough” but... 

This is Tim’s boarding school when he’s 13. While most boarding schools in the US are for grades 9-12, Tim is clearly not a freshman at age 13; look how much younger the other kids in this panel are. In the US, the youngest you can attend most boarding schools is 7. 

That means Tim could have begun going to boarding school anytime between 7 and 13. He most likely spent all of middle school in boarding school, at least. There are an almost infinite number of possible ways the Drakes handled having a business that required lots of international travel, an archeology hobby, AND a very young child. Janet staying home until Tim was 7, 11, 13, is equally possible as the Drakes having a nanny until 7, 11, 13. Tim just doesn’t talk about that period of his life very much.

(”What about Mrs. Mac?” - it is unclear when Mrs. Mac begins working for the Drakes. We only see her when Jack comes out of his coma. She could either be a long standing staff member, or a recent hire.) 

Note: I’ve seen it said that it’s canon that “According to Tim, when his parents were home, they made a point to try and include him in their activities, bringing him along to events that were normally adults only.” I have never seen this panel, or I don’t remember it, so I cannot confirm, but I also cannot debunk this because... comics. 

By the time Tim is 13, Jack and Janet are away on business trips a lot, with limited communication, and no firm return date. If I’m feeling generous, I’d say it was harder to communicate internationally in 1990 than it is today. If I’m not feeling generous, I’d say the Drakes are extremely wealthy, and international communication was easier than ever before in the 80s and 90s. They’re not even going home to see Tim in a week or two, they’re going home and calling Tim at boarding school in a week or two. 

Even Bruce thinks its weird, though he doesn’t say so to Tim’s face. It’s written almost as if Tim’s parents’ neglect was meant to be a plot point that just got forgotten about. 

Tim’s parents are fighting at this point (their poor assistant), but Janet still goes with Jack on these business trips. And she’s clearly involved in the business, somehow, but the comics never SAY what Janet’s JOB is. We’re told Jack is the exec, but Janet is ONLY ever referred to as Jack’s wife, though they’re later described as the “heads” of the company, plural. 

Just to be clear, this is Jack’s business. There’s a perception that Jack is a bad business man because he and Janet fight over company decisions, and Jack looses the business after Janet dies, but Jack looses the company YEARS after Janet dies, and maintains it for about a year after No Man’s Land at that. We’re not told how Jack looses the business, but he’s got to be doing something right. Janet isn’t necessarily the “real brains” of Drake Industries. 

And I’m not... gonna... touch the... exploitation and racism because... I’m not qualified to do that. But, here’s the panel. The Drakes sure seem exploitative and racist in their business decisions. Someone else can... analyze that with more nuance. 

Regardless how how long they’ve been fighting, when their lives are in danger, the Drakes fall back into a loving husband and wife. Their marriage may be falling apart, but they do care about each other. 

I want to show these panels because it shows that Tim and Jack do have things in common. They’re both level headed in a crisis and can be somewhat cold in their practicality. Janet meanwhile and silent. Jack is later willing rant and rave at their captors, but Janet remains silent. 

That is, until they’re alone, and she finally lets herself fall apart. 

God, Jack can be obnoxious. Janet just looks miserable and resigned. I actually think Tim takes after his parents in this respect in equal measure. Tim can have a temper, but he can also be fairly melancholy and defeatist. 

Jack keeps reminding Janet to be strong and in control, which could be period typical sexism? But Jack seems so practiced and ready with the words of encouragement, and with Tim’s history with depression, I wonder if Janet has an inclination towards it as well. 

As the end approaches, when Jack brings up Tim, Janet seems to have a lot of regret. She talks about “wasting” the good things, and I don’t think it’s too big of a stretch to assume she’s talking about time spent with her only child. 

From this point on, Janet is at times spoken of, but not seen. Like here, when Jack says Janet wouldn’t approve of him and Tim being so “far apart.” He says this after he tells him he takes back his threat to send him back to boarding school, which might imply Janet was against the idea of boarding school? Though she obviously lost that argument when she was alive. 

Jack will of course renege on this later, but that’s Jack Drake for you. 

Or here in Tim’s illness induced dream, where he gets everything he wants. Though, since this is a fantasy of Tim’s, where his father and girlfriend are both more accepting and understanding than they are in real life, I would take this depiction of Janet with a grain of salt. 

After loosing Drake Industries, Jack thinks about Janet (though, they call her Catherine/Cathy for some fucking reason) during his depressive episode. And... uh... 

Hallucinates a Valkyrie???? Is this symbolic of suicidal thoughts, or is she... real? Or is he seriously hallucinating? 

Anyway, we’re not here to discuss Jack’s mental state, the fact that he forgot Tim’s birthday, or that concerning “I was going to knock some sense into you but you’re still bigger than me” statement from Tim, we’re here to talk about Janet. And even though this entire arc is about Jack mourning his first wife, they don’t SAY anything about Janet herself at all. I mean, they don’t even get her name right, so I guess what was I expecting. 

Then there’s Origins and Omens, which also doesn’t say anything about Janet, except that Tim’s memory of her is faulty - Janet was poisoned, her assistant Jeremy’s throat was slit on television, but Tim seems to have conflated the death he did see with the death he didn’t. 

The only piece of canon to suggest that Janet might be cold, is Tim compares her to Thalia. And even then, he’s really just saying Janet was protective of him. It’s kind of a scary look to make at your kid, but Bruce does the same thing, so. 

I do want to say... it’s not 100% clear if Tim is even talking about Janet. He could be talking about Dana. Dana was observably protective of Tim, though I don’t think he’s ever called her mom. He PROBABLY means Janet. 

And finally we have Tim visiting his mother’s grave (in a duel Christian/Jewish cemetery, make of that what you will), where Tim says she was “a little religious.”

And that’s it! That is all we know about Janet Drake in New Earth. Hardly the Mom From Hell, but she isn’t perfect. I’d be interested in seeing some alternate depictions of her within the fandom. 

I’m still gonna eat up Terrible Parents From Hell like a starving puppy dog, though. Just some food for creative thought. 

[batdadforlife]

I've been thinking about Bruce traveling with his kids.

Look, sometimes he needs to leave Gotham for a Justice League thing, and in those cases he probably either leaves his kids with Alfred, or keeps them at the Watchtower because its too dangerous. But sometimes Bruce Wayne goes out of town for a business trip or a vacation. And on those trips, he probably likes to bring the kids with him when he can. Its educational, lets them experience another part of the world or another culture. It has nothing to do with how wonderful it is to watch his kids experience something new with wonder in their eyes. Or how much fun Bruce has finding the best this new place has to offer with his kids.

(Alfred has always refused to go on trips, stating that he has enough to do at home and it would be completely improper for a butler to go on family vacation. Eventually Bruce got a concession that Alfred would also take a vacation somewhere he wanted to go anytime a trip lasted more than a weekend.)

When it was just Dick it was simple. He just asked for a room with two beds or a suite with two rooms, he's rich enough to afford several rooms. Dick still liked to wake him up by jumping on the bed, asking if they could have ice cream for breakfast just this once because Alfred wasn't there to say no. When Dick left he found himself keeping the habit, getting two rooms instead of just one.

When Jason came along it was better, Bruce just put him in the extra room anytime he came with and getting another room the rare times he and Dick could agree long enough for a vacation. Jason wasn't as prone to jumping on the bed, and always made fun of Bruce for wasting so much money. But Bruce knew that Jason appreciated having his own private space when he got overwhelmed on a trip.

Bruce had several business trips already planned out after Jason died, already booked with an extra room. Some of those trips were hurriedly canceled in his wave of grief, but when Bruce was finally able to force himself to go, he found he couldn't bare to cancel the other room. And he kept doing it, booking two rooms when he only needed one. Sometimes he would just go to the doorway of the empty room, and imagine knocking only for Jason to open the door, and for it to have all been a bad dream after eating sushi at a dubious restaurant Jason had dragged him to.

And then eventually Tim came along, but Bruce couldn't exactly take his neighbor's kid with him on trips. So that extra room stayed empty, a reminder of what would never be.

And then one time Dick decides to come with him on a trip. Bruce is sure that Alfred and Tim are responsible for it, are trying to get them back to the place they were as a family. But he's too grateful to question much, eager to reconnect with his remaining son. Except...

He couldn't bear to not have that empty room. It was part of his travel routine now, and he couldn't bear to admit to himself that Jason was never going to go on another family trip, that his sons were never going to be with him again...

He booked a third room, and dodged Alfred's knowing looks and Dick's curious frown at the extra key he picked up in the lobby.

And then he was able to take Tim along on the trips, introduce him to all his business partners as his youngest son. Then Cass came along and she had never had the chance to travel like this, with a warm place to sleep and people willing to explain what was going on around her. But no matter what, Bruce kept that one room empty, always having a spare room that no one ever entered.

And then Jason came back. And he was angry, and killing people, and said he wanted nothing to do with the family. Bruce knew he should break the habit now, since it was likely to piss Jason off if he ever found out. But now he had a distant, almost microscopic hope, that someday that extra room might be needed for its intended purpose.

It isn't until after the time stream, when he has Damian with him, that the room finally gets used. The entire family was with him for once, a two week family vacation that disguised a trip to disable a major crime family making inroads in Gotham.

Jason showed up midway through the second week, coming out of nowhere to save Red Robin from a sniper that would have put a bullet in his brain. Unfortunately the sniper got a lucky shot, and Jason limped away from the fight with a twisted ankle and a bullet in the shoulder. The crime family was taken down and Jason properly bandaged, but he was in no shape to leave alone as he tried to insist before the painkillers kicked in and knocked him out.

Jason wakes up tucked into a bed in a ridiculously expensive hotel room with a throbbing ache in his ankle and shoulder. He downs the pills left for him on a side table, then once they kick in gets up and hobbles his way out of the room.

He gets caught by Dick and Damian in the hallway, and before he can escape he's dragged to breakfast at the restaurant in the lobby with the rest of the family. He reluctantly agrees to stay until the end of the vacation, and head back to Gotham with the rest of the family.

It isn't until later that Jason asks about the room, joking about who he kicked out of their bed. Everyone else just looks at him in confusion. “what are you talking about, Jason?”

“That room has always been for you.”

[hauntedbythefanficsofmypast]

BatMom- Jason Todd

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2[Here]

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Jason Todd, Her Toughest Bird.

Marinette paced the Batcave anger clear on her face as she waited for Batman to get back with his newest Robin. She couldn’t believe Batman would go this far, he knew damn well that wasn’t his name to give away. Her thoughts were interrupted by the Batmobile skidding into the cave and parking. Batman and the young boy getting out, the new Robin took one look at her before sizing her up with a glare.

“Who's the angry lady B?” He said looking ready for a fight, which amused Marinette slightly. But her gaze focused on Batman as she upped her glare.

“Hello B, we need to talk.” She said stiffly before looking down at the boy with a stern look. “Alone.” She said firmly gesturing to the changing rooms. Jason huffed, pulling off his mask walking passed her indignantly. Marinette wasted no time tearing into Bruce the moment the door was closed. 

An hour later Marinette walked through the halls of the manor a frown still on her face. She stopped outside an opened door looking in on the newly adopted Jason Todd-Wayne. “Kid,” She called out catching his attention. “want to go out for ice cream?” Jason scoffed, closing his book giving her a deadpan look.

“Ya great idea let me go out with a woman that obviously doesn’t like me.” He said sarcastically waving his hand at her in a go away gesture. “Why would I even want to go with you in the first place?” Marinette smirked leaning against the door.

“First off I don’t know you enough to not like you, my anger at B will not be dragged over to you. “Second off we are going to Pico’s Ice Cream Gotham’s world renown Ice Cream Parlor, over two hundred flavors, I intend for us to eat so much Alfred has to pick us up. Finally B is paying and after your stunt with his tires, something tells me you’d be more than happy to waste his money.” She held up her hand showing Bruce’s Amex Black card held between her index and middle fingers. “So are you in or not kid?” Jason smirked, placing his book down and jumping out of his chair.

“Oh I am so down! Let's go get sick to our stomachs with Bruce paying!”

An hour later Alfred had arrived at Pico’s giving both of them a disappointed glare as they climbed into the shortened limo he had brought. Marinette and Jason laid on the floor facing each other, curled in on themselves.

“Was it worth it Miss Marinette, Master Jason.”

“Definitely.”

“Hell yes.” 

The two groaned out their response together shortly followed by a yelp from Jason after she had flicked his nose.

“Watch your language.” She said causing him to grumble while Alfred simply sighed, closing the door. A few moments later they felt the limo begin to move. Marinette closed her eyes trying to calm her churning stomach, well aware of Jason’s eyes on her.

“Why were you so mad at Bruce?” He asked softly, wanting to know yet not at the same time. Marinette was silent for a moment before opening her eyes, meeting his own. 

“B gave away something that wasn’t his to give away. Dick hadn’t let go over the title just yet, and Bruce in his anger ripped it away from him and gave it to you instead. He really hurt Dickie, that’s why I was so angry at him. Not at you, you’re innocent in this Jason.” She said softly groaning when Alfred took a sharp turn, showing his displeasure with his two current charges. “My anger is all towards B right now.” Jason nodded thinking over what she had said before he had another question.

“Why do you call him B, why not just say Bruce?” Marinette was silent before looking away with a slight blush.

“B stands for bitch and he knows it.” She said causing Jason to grin at her.

“Language.”

“Shut it little birdie.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, The Night Joker took him.

She sat at the door curled up crying begging for forgiveness, and Jason-Jason couldn’t find it in himself to give it. This woman, this woman had caused this, Sheila Haywood was no saint. No she was far from it, and unfortunately she was his mother. She was the one that gave birth to him, and now she’d be the one to help kill him. A dark part of him was happy she’d go with him but he’d never admit that out loud. His thoughts strayed from his so called mother as he watched the timer slowly countdown. Instead he thought of the one woman in his life that always tried. That was always there for him, that always stood up for him, and helped him build a relationship with his predecessor. He thought of the terrible fight they had, though he knew that it was mostly on his part. He had gotten too hard headed and Marinette was always stubborn and unwilling to bend with things she believed in. His Marinette wanted to help him meet his mother, she did even though it hurt her slightly and he had known it. She had helped him unlike Bruce who refused after the fight they had had, she helped even though it hurt. Yet he persisted and pushed and pushed until they finally found the women. Jason had insisted that he left for Ethiopia right away, planning to go alone. Ever protective Marinette had refused, told him he would not go alone and that they would go together.  She said she’d have everything ready at the end of the month, but that was not soon enough for him. He snapped at her demanding that she stayed out of it. He declared it was a family matter, and ignored the hurt in her eyes. She had told him not to be hard headed and that she was coming along. Only to be silenced and told that she was not going, he was being so stupid, he let his temper get the best of him. He told her she wasn’t family, that she was nothing but the woman that chased after his adoptive Father. Trying to find any excuse to have his attention, he regretted it so much when he watched her close in on herself. Her blue eyes dulled so much they looked gray, her ever perfect posture faltered but he hadn’t cared. He turned and left her there all alone. Just like he was now, all alone wishing that his mom was there. Wishing that his Marinette, his Mom was hugging him and running her fingers through his red hair.

“Jay-bird.” 

That was it, that's mom’s voice.

“Jay-bird, I don’t know if you can hear me, Gods I hope you do.”

He could hear the shake in her voice as his eyes landed on what he thought was his broken communicator. 

She’s crying, she should never cry.

“Bruce is on his way my little Fire-Cracker.”

She said choking back a sob, Jason twitched in his bond moving closer towards the communicator. His body protested every move as he made his way.

“Dickie isn’t on Earth right now but I told Clark he better get his ass off planet and to him as soon as possible.”

Jason let out a pain chuckle at her swearing, she rarely did it and it always surprised him to hear. Foul language was his thing; it should’ve never fallen from his mom’s mouth. Especially for the fact that she disliked crude language.

“Jay?”

She heard him, she can hear him.

“I’m here.”

He said his voice horse as he shed a few tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I snapped at you, after everything you did, I hurt you so much. I’m so sorry Mom. I should’ve stayed, I should’ve listened, I’m so sorry. I just want to be with you. I want to be with you so bad mommy.”

He said desperate for the women to know, desperate for forgiveness from his mother.

“Jay, my sweet baby bird, it's okay. Oh baby, I love you so much my beautiful boy. You wanted to find your birth mother and I will never hold that against you. You have nothing to be sorry for, you hear me?”

Nine Seconds.

Jason’s eyes remain on the timer.

“Mommy, I love you. Thank you for everything.”

Eight Seconds.

“Don’t-”

Marinette���s voice cracked as she cried into her hands.

Seven Seconds.

“Please tell Dickie I love him and he was an amazing brother.”

Six Seconds.

“Don’t-Don’t say goodbye, this is goodbye Jason! You hear me! this isn’t goodbye.”

She finished her voice in a pained whisper.

Five Seconds.

“Tell Bruce he’s an asshole, but I loved him.”

Four Seconds.

“Tell Alfred I love him too.”

Jason was crying uncontrollably as he spoke.

Three Seconds.

“Mom?”

Two Seconds.

“Yes baby boy?”

One Second.

“Don’t blame yourself.”

Marinette stared at the casket, unable to console herself and stop the tears. Her baby boy was in there, her tough little bird. He was gone and she wasn’t there, she failed him. A mother is meant to protect, and she didn’t protect. She should’ve followed him to Ethiopia, she shouldn’t have let her feeling of hurt get the best of her. A sob fell from her lips as her shoulders shooking, her posture breaking as she curled in on herself. Her baby bird will never fly again, he will never read her poetry or discuss his favorite books with her again. No, now she’d have to visit him here, for the rest of her life. Now she’d have to talk to a gravestone every time she saw her baby bird.

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, Red Hood Finds her.

He watched her for weeks ever since he had officially come back to Gotham. Watching her as Ladybug, Lady Noir, and Marinette, watching the woman he had called mother. The mother that had seemingly moved on from him, along with his so called Father and brother. He saw her spend countless nights with his replacement, she had never gone on patrol with him as much as she did with the new one. She, of course, didn’t realize she was being watched. Old age he supposed his once mother looked much older since the last time he saw her, before he died. Black hair now greying and everything so perhaps he could not fault her for not noticing.

This night was special though, for weeks she had been fighting him with the so-called Batfamily. Tonight, exactly three days after he shot the replacement, she would find out that he was her ‘Baby-bird’.

He watched as she picked up the phone, no doubt Bruce or Alfred, his amusement faded when tears began to fall. He always hated when she cried, she was always so happy and collected. She rarely cried and when she did it was so heart wrenching, because Marinette cried with her entire body. He watched as she dropped the phone and rushed to the balcony, he saw the small red and black Gods following her. Heard her voice crying out as she threw the doors open.

“Plagg, Claws out!” 

She transformed and was traveling across the rooftops in minutes. She was making her way towards Bludhaven only to be met halfway by Nightwing. Immediately breaking down into her eldests arms.

“It's him, it's him, it's him. It's my babybird! It’s my baby! It's my baby!” 

Her cries caused Red Hood to flinch as he turned his gaze away from the mourning mother. He took one last glance before turning away returning to his current safe house.

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, Saving him from Himself.

“Don’t do this.” Her voice called out, it was calm as always yet filled with pain. She limped toward him holding her side tenderly in an attempt to stop the bleeding from her wound. “Don’t do this Baby boy.” Red Hood growled leveling the gun on her as he turned away from the downed third Robin. He froze the moment he saw Marinette, not Lady Noir, not Ladybug, but Marinette, his Marinette. Beaten, Bloody, and Bruised, all caused by him and his men. She didn’t even flinch at the gun pointed at her even though it was clear that her injury was a bullet wound.

“Shut up you fucking liar.” He growled out red tinting his vision once again as he thought of her protecting his replacement. Thought of all the videos of her with little Tim Drake, the newest Robin, all the pictures of her at school events. The actual adoption of not just him, but of her perfect first son. That one had hurt him the most, she had adopted them but not him.

“I am a liar.” She admitted softly continuing towards her son. Looking up at the young man, but always her babybird. “I am. I promised you that I’d always be with you, that I’d protect you. I failed you and I have blamed myself every day. I should’ve followed you, I should’ve found you, I should’ve protected you. But I failed you instead.” She stopped with the gun barely an inch away from her forehead, and for a second she marveled at how tall her baby was now compared to her. She wished she could see his face, see how handsome her beautiful boy had turned out. While Dick had grown into a beautiful young man, she knew her tough little bird would grow into a very handsome man. “You have every right to be angry with me, but not him. He looked up to you, still does, he pulled Bruce, Dick, and me out of the dark place we were in after your death. Not once did he wish to replace you, not once did he shy away from mentioning you. If you want to take your anger out on somebody, make it me.” She closed her blue bell eyes picturing her little red headed bird with his mischievous smile, and love for literature. Marinette leaned her head forehead allowing the barrel of his gun to press against her head. Her free hand shook as she reached out, caressing the red helmet with her knuckles. She opened her eyes again, tears staining to fall from the now dulled grayish blue. “Just remember I love you my little Fire-Cracker, though you’re not exactly little anymore are you.” She choked out holding back a sob as she let her hand drop her legs shaking from exhaustion. “If you’re going to kill us then take me first. Please I don’t think I can bear to watch another one of my birds die.” She barely finished before exhaustion caught up to her and she began to collapse. She didn’t hit the ground though, no she was pulled into strong arms. Arms that held her tightly cradling her and providing safety. Red Hood stared down at the woman in his arms, the red having long faded as tears fell hidden by the helmet. Jason Todd-Wayne held his hurt mother in his arms as he let himself cry.

“Stupid woman, Stupid Mom.” He whispered before moving her so that she laid beside her newest bird. “Don’t say a word you fucking replacment.” He growled out as said bird looked up at him in surprise. “You better fucking protect her or else I will kill you.” He growled glaring at the small shy smirk on the bird’s face.

“Watch your language, you know her thoughts on cussing.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, Bruce’s Death.

Jason Todd-Wayne sat atop Wayne Enterprises staring down at the city he was born into. Bruce was gone, he was gone and Jason didn’t know what to think of it. Dick was taking up the cowl, making Bruce’s actual son his new Robin. Tim had taken over Wayne Enterprises, the youngest CEO in the world. Meanwhile here was Jason still legally dead, and estranged from the family. With no idea what to do with his life, he had slowly waned from killing doing the same with her men. They very rarely killed, only those that truly deserved it, but ever since that night since he cradled his mother’s broken form. He hasn’t seen the family, he only knew of Bruce’s death from the video he had sent to the family. He tensed as a body sat down beside him, curling into her jacket. 

“Hello Handsome Birdie.” She said softly reaching up and caressing his cheek. “I’ve missed you.” Jason grabbed her hand holding it gently and rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

“I’ve missed you too Mom.” He admitted softly both turning to look out at the city in silence together. “Is he really gone?” He asked, not really wanting to know the answer. Marinette leaned against her son allowing her eyes to drift to their held hands.

“Tim-Tim says he might not be and is trying to find him. Dick, my poor bird is hurting so much he is scared to hope that Bruce isn’t dead. Then there is Damian, oh he is going to be a tough Birdie to crack.” Jason smiled softly squeezing her hand.

“Well you managed to raise me, you'll have no problem with him.” He said jokingly, causing Marinette to laugh shaking her head.

“You didn't call me ‘Father’s newest whore’ and then immediately attempt to kill me.”

“He did want?!” 

Jason asked with a protective glare on his face as he turned to his mom.

“Oh hush Fire-Cracker, I’ll get through to him.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, The Outlaws.

Red Hood could feel her eyes on him and his two companions. The fact that they didn’t notice was both irritating yet caused a bit of pride to fill his chest for only his mom could hide so easily.

“Kori, Roy,” He called out, pulling his helmet off his mask soon following revealing Jason Todd-Wayne to the night sky. “We have a visitor.” He said, turning to look at the shadows where Lady Noir resided.

“Getting better every day aren’t you Jay-bird?” She finally announced her presence to her son’s friends. She knew the both of them Roy better than Kori, it had been Dick that introduced them. Before the split in their friendships, she hated having to comfort her bird of the loss of his older brother. Lady Noir wouldn’t let her hold it against him though, or hold it against Kori.

“Hello mom” Jason said affectionately as he walked over to Lady Noir. She smiled, dropping her transformation and allowing her son to pull her into a tight hug. Marinette reached up rubbing his cheek with her thumb. “Come to make sure, I’m not getting into too much trouble?” He asked, teasingly causing her to roll her eyes.

“No, I simply wanted to see how my son’s new team worked together. “ She combed his hair to the side gently with her fingers before grabbing his gloved hand in hers. “My birds rarely team up with others outside the family.” Jason glanced away a little nervous squeezing her hand gently.

“Well, what do you think? Of my small team here?” Marinette smiled softly glancing back at the two that had joined her son, before looking back to her son.

“I think you have found some very good friends Fire-Craker. They will care for you as you care for them.” She leaned up on her tiptoes, huffing slightly when Jason still had to lean down for her, and kissed her son’s cheek. “Be good to them and you shall have a strong team.” keep them safe. They will do the same for you, now run along my tough little bird.”

“I’m not little anymore.”

“Hush.”

“Yes Mom.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, Returning to the Family.

Jason stuck his hand firmly in his pockets as he stared up at the manor. Marinette and Dick had both told him he should come for the holidays. If it had been just Duck he would have blown it off, but he’d hurt his mom too much in the past to do it to her. He didn’t want to go in, his relationship with Bruce was still incredibly rocky, and he really didn’t like the Demon brat. Though somehow his mom and older brother had both become rather fond of the brat. He shook his head and squared his shoulders walking towards the door, only to turn around and take the steps back down the stairs.

“I can’t do this.” He growled out kicking the snow glaring at it frustrated. “How can this be so hard! Just walk through the damn door, say hello to Alfred hand over your coat and then immediately find mom. Give her the stupid gift, then sneak out when the others distract her.” He said to himself, but he didn’t turn around he just continued to glare at the ground, his hands shaking slightly in his jacket pockets.

“Or, just putting this out there, you could turn around, walk through the door with me and spend Christmas with your family. A family which has been nervous to see if you’ll actually come tonight.” Marinette called out from her place on the steps behind him. Her cardigan wrapped tightly around her to chase away the cold. Jason turned slightly looking at her sheepishly until he realized she didn’t have a jacket on. “Personally I prefer my idea, way better than you sneaking away from us.” Jason glared slightly walking up to her as he unzipped his jacket.

“What are you doing out here with only a cardigan? I seem to remember you always complaining that I’d get sick if I didn’t wear a jacket!” He pulled his off wrapping it around Marinette holding back a snort over it reaching her knees. Marinette glared slightly as if knowing his thought process and turned up her nose indignantly huffing. “You’ll catch your death out here without a jacket Jason! Jason don’t forget your hat! Jason gloves are not uncool they make sure your fingers don’t get frostbite!” Jason said repeating all the phrases she had used on him when he was just twelve. Marinette reached out pinching his ear slightly causing him to wince, and pout at her, though he’d never admit it.

“I am your mother, young man. I have every right to make sure you wear proper attire for winter. And apparently I should have said it more as it appears, the only thing you were wearing is your jacket.” Jason rubbed his ear after she let go grumbling to himself about annoying mothers.

“Why did you come out here? How did you know I was here?” He finally asked before wrapping his arm around her shoulders walking her towards the door. He knew his mother never did good in the cold, a side effect of being the Champion of a Ladybug Goddess. Marinette huffed, shaking her head, giving him a pointed look.

“Timmy and I sat watching you stand outside for five minutes before he suggested I came and got you.” She smiled as Alfred opened the door for them. “That and Alfred had been standing at the door for a good ten minutes and I decided that ten minutes was enough.” Jason smiled apologetically at Alfred, hugging the elderly butler.

“Hi Alfred, I missed you.” He said softly, smiling brighter when the man hugged him back.

“And I you Master Jason, now come join the family. I shall take your coat from Mistress Marinette.”

Jason raised an eyebrow looking over at his mom who shook her head fondly.

“He insists that Bruce is going to marry me one day. It’s the only bit of denial I’ve seen him in, I shan’t mention it to him however.” She said with a mischievous smile, winging at her son. “Besides Bruce’s face when he brings it up is hilarious. Now come the boys are eager to see you.” She corrected herself after Jason’s pointed look. “Fine Tim and Dick are excited to see you. Damian doesn’t want to share me and Bruce can’t emotion so he hasn’t said it but he is thinking it.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, Alive Again.

Jason paced his room in the manor mumbling to himself while Kori and Roy sat on his bed watching him. Today was the day, he had agreed to announce that he had survived the explosion all those years ago. They had even come up with a rather ingenious cover story on where he had been. Though that was most his replacement, the kid was wicked smart.

“I can’t do this.” He said turning to Kori and Roy with a pleading look, as he gripped his hair with his hands. “Kori, get me out of here, please.” He said softly though they could both hear the panic in his tone. Kori chuckled standing up and walking over to him. She gently pried his hands from his hair gesturing for Roy to grab the hair brush. 

“X’Hal, Jason, you are overthinking this, and panicking. You can do this, I know it for you are not weak. You know you want to do this, doing this means spending more time with them.Yes, yes that’s not why you are doing this.” She said rolling her eyes when he opened his mouth to argue. She took the hair brush Roy held out with a bright smile. “Jason, this is a most joyess occasion! After today you can spend more time with your K’norfka, and Roy and I know you want to go places with her more than anything.” Jason huffed letting her brush out his hair hold his face as she tilted his head side to side.

“She is not my nanny Kori, she’s my mother.” Kori pinned him with a look as she squeezed his cheeks gently leaning forward.

“On my planet K’norfka, also means guardian. Of which she is, correct?” Jason huffed before nodding his head.

“Yes, yes, you are correct.” Kori smirked triumphantly before kissing him briefly and releasing his face. “Roy and I will be here waiting for you when you are done. Isn’t that right?” Roy nodded, wrapping an arm around her waist, smirking at his boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Oh we will be here, but I don’t know. From the look on Miss Marinette’s face we won’t see you for a while.” Roy said nodding to the door, where Marinette stood watching them. She slowly made her way over to the trio.

“Mom! I can, I can explain. Roy, Star, and I-were-uh-were really good friends-well no we are actually-well.” He was silenced by Marinette’s hand on his cheek, causing him to finally meet her eyes. Understanding and love shining brightly in her eyes, as she rubbed his cheek with her thumb, marveling at her tough little bird all grown up.

“You couldn’t have picked anyone better Jay-bird. They have proved themselves remarkably well, and have shown their love for you my sweet bird. And that’s all that a mother can ask for in life, that their baby is happy and loved.” Jason teared up as he leaned down wrapping his mom into a tight hug hiding his face in her shoulder, causing the women to giggle. Marinette softly stroked his hair resting her cheek against his head. She looked over to the two her son had chosen her smile not wavering but Roy and Kori could read her eyes. Happiness, acceptance, and a little bit of love shining in them as she silently thanked her son’s precious people.

“Now, let’s go. It’s time for Jason Todd-Wayne to enter the world again. This time though I’ll finally get to adopt you.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, A Prince Consort?

Jason stared at himself in the mirror tugging on the traditional Tamaranean clothing. He still couldn’t believe this was happening, Kori wasn’t even the Queen anymore. Yet her, Roy, and him had all been carted away to her home planet by her brother. News had spread far of her proposal to the two, and her home planet wanted to witness the marriage. Only two months after they became engaged they were getting married, and his family wasn’t even there.

“Lost in thought, Birdie.” 

“Just thinking about how my mom is going to kill me-Mom?!” He turned quickly looking at his mother, dressed in a lavender purple dress, obviously of her own design, that held elements of the Tamaranean attire.

“Surprise.” She said softly with a twinkle in her eye as she walked over. “Oh look at you, my tough little bird is getting married.” She smoothed out his clothing, a tearful smile on her face. “Koriand’r had a feeling her brother would insist on this. So she made sure that the family would also be picked up, she also gave me a few different items of Tamaranean clothing, so that I could make my own clothing.” Jason smiled at the mention of his soon to be wife.

“She is amazing, her and Roy.” He whispered softly, a smile taking over his face. Marinette watched him as a single happy year fell from her face.

“Gosh, first Dickie and now you. Now I just need to have Timmy and Dami find someone that loves them unconditionally. Then I could die happily knowing my sons are loved.” 

“Don’t joke about that mom, you won’t be dying for a very long time.” Jason said, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. “Besides demon brat find someone, please.” 

“Jason.” Marinette said with a warning note in her tone causing Jason to grin at her. Tikki coughed, finally gaining their attention.

“Oh not again. Tikki stop out shining me will you!”

Marinette said smiling playfully at her dear friend. Tikki smiled a twinkle in her eye as she shook her head.

“No I don’t think I will Mari!” She flew up kissing Jason on the forehead just like she had done a year ago for her bug’s first bird. “I grant you and your mates Good luck and Fortune in your future together. Cherish each other always, I am proud of you, even if you’re a troublesome bird.” Marinette smiled softly looking up at her second son, her tough bird, her Fire-Craker.

“I am proud of you too Jason. You’ve grown into such a handsome young man, and have found yourself the loves of your life. That’s all a mother can ask for in life.”

“How much are my brothers going to tease me over being a Prince Consort.”

“Oh so much, that we’re thinking of jokes on the way here. A little scary watching Timmy and Dami work together, but you know Dickie, he can bring anyone together.”

Jason snorted rolling his eyes, Plagg chose this moment to show himself grinning at Jason.

“So, you’re gonna be a Trophy Husband now kid?”

“Plagg!”

“Ow! Oh come on Sugar-cube! Ow!-It was a joke!”

@mythogaychic

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 33

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Updating today instead of tomorrow so I can spend the whole day on the work I procrastinated :/

~~~

How did she end up staying at Wayne Manor for a week and a half? Deception. She’d never felt more betrayed than she did in that moment. And to think, she and Tim had been friends. 

She’d rolled her eyes when Wayne Manor came into view.

“I can go home, you know.”

“Says the person who got kidnapped on her way there,” responded Tim with a sigh. He paused at the gate as they waited for it to open. “Besides, your ankle’s messed up. You shouldn’t be walking.”

She groaned and tipped her head back against his arm so she could glare at him. “I’m fine.”

He had looked away for a moment, using the gate opening as an excuse, then he started walking. After a while, he hesitantly looked at her. “But I’m not! You got hurt because of me. Please, just... let me take care of you for a little bit.”

Her face burned. “Fine. I’ll stay until Halloween. Happy?”

He seemed to consider this, then shook his head. “But, bean, that’s tomorrow! At least stay here for proper treatment, then you can go.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I could get proper treatment without you.”

He had only sighed in response.

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Fine. Fine. I’ll stay until I’m healed.”

“Really?” He asked, his face full of hope.

She nodded.

And then, much to her horror, a smug smile stretched across his face. “No take backs! Sucker!”

Truly horrible. She’d never trust again.

~

Still, she'd be lying if she said she didn’t have a good time.

After ‘convincing’ (begging) them to go to her apartment and get her supplies she’d started working on the outfits for the steadily approaching Gala. She’d intended to do most of her embroidery while she was there, because it was calming and repetitive and she’d be able to relax with Tim... but then Dick had seen what she was doing and had nerded out with her about outfits and design. It turned out one person in their family did have a little bit of style, and she was ecstatic. Now she lazed on his way-too-comfortable bed and worked while babbling on about her designs. And he actually understood what she was saying. It was great.

And, when she wasn’t designing, she’d often be found drinking coffee with Tim (the Waynes had bought another machine for her after the first day’s... ‘incident’). They would lean against each other and drink in comfortable silence, which is exactly what everyone wants in the early morning. Who cares if it was three in the afternoon? With their sleep schedules it was practically like being awake at five in the morning anyways.

At other times she and Jason could be found together. This was less fun, because he was the one most pressed about her ankle. While everyone knew that her foot would probably be fine in a week’s time, he was the one to practically carry her everywhere like a damsel in distress. He’d learned to stop when she kicked him in the shin (with her bad leg, it was not a good time for either of them), but he was still extremely worried for her and not at all concerned with hiding it. Still, he made it up to her by sneaking her extra coffees (Dick had set a limit when he’d seen the way Tim and her binge-drank when with each other).

The only bad part was...

Her and Damian locked eyes across the table and they sent each other a glare. She didn’t even know why his presence irritated her to no end, didn’t know why her veins buzzed whenever he got too close; she only knew that she didn’t like it.

She didn’t act on it that much, surprisingly. She had no real reason to be angry with him, the slight rudeness he’d presented the day they’d met was perfectly justified. Marinette settled for the occasional snide comment at the table.

This only seemed to upset him more and more as time went on.

Finally, when her leg was healed (Jason had managed to convince her to stay an extra day to be sure), he’d grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her away from Tim before either of them could really react.

“What’s your problem?” She hissed as he pulled her along, struggling to not spill her coffee due to their brisk pace.

He dragged her into the dojo and crossed his arms over his chest. “Me? You’re the one who’s been rude the whole time you’ve been staying here!”

She couldn’t respond. He had a bit of a point. She settled for sending him a glare over the rim of her cup.

“What do you have against me?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Does it matter?”

“Yes! Obviously!”

“Maybe I just don’t like people.”

“You made friends with the Rogues!”

Oh. So that’s what this was about. She lowered her drink slightly. “Maybe I just don’t like you,” she corrected herself.

Damian scoffed and shook his head. “Whatever. You don’t want to answer? Fine. Fight me.”

Marinette felt like she had whiplash. He’d gone from being annoyed that she wasn’t being nice to him to wanting to fight in approximately half a second. Still, she had to admit, fighting him would probably be nice. Not only did she miss the adrenaline of a fight, but a tiny part of her hoped that her anger would dissipate if she gave him a punch or two.

She set down her drink. “Sure. Whatever.”

He looked a bit smug. They walked along the walls and pulled off equipment that they deemed necessary. Basically they both pulled on some grappling gloves and she added an ankle brace to make sure she didn’t instantly mess up her leg again.

After a few minutes of stretching they squared up to each other on the mat.

She grinned and raised her hands to her face. She didn’t actually know how good he was, but she wasn’t all that intent on going easy on him. They had a dojo, he had to have some kind of fighting expertise, that only made --.

Marinette was pulled from her thoughts as a punch came at her face. She dodged with ease and backed up a few steps, raising her guard properly. All she needed was to take her time to learn his fighting style.

She smiled as she dodged his attacks. He was getting angrier, sloppier, with every miss. His style was getting more and more obvious. Just a few more attacks and she would be completely sure --.

His fist came for her throat.

She had to do a backflip to avoid the blow.

His eyes widened.

She cursed mentally. She’d given up her one possible advantage: the high chances of him underestimating her.

Her element of surprise gone, she forced herself to go on the offense. She threw a short jab at him and raised her eyebrows at the almost practiced nature of his block, like he’d done this exact motion a million times.

Her lips twitched. Amateurs are usually the ones who choreograph their moves like that --.

Realization struck her just as his fist did, sending her back a few steps.

Her body moved on autopilot, sending a kick at his chest to get him away so she could recover. His hand locked on her foot and one of his legs swept hers out from under her. A curse slipped from between her lips as her back hit the mat, but it was nothing compared to her reaction when he dropped a bit of weight on the leg he held. Pain pulled a strangled sob from her throat and she thought her leg would shatter.

Her hand slammed the ground twice.

Damian stopped instantly at the motion a worried expression flickering across his features. Red Hood wasn’t lying, the reaction had been instantaneous in both of them. They’d both been drilled, both had the same cues. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

And, unfortunately, Damian wasn’t completely stupid. She saw confusion find its way across his face. And then shock. Denial. Understanding. Anger. And then acceptance.

He dropped onto the mat beside her and covered his face with his hands. “You’re Ladybug.”

“And you’re Robin,” she agreed, pulling her still throbbing leg to her chest. “You suck with and without the outfit. It makes sense,” she muttered.

And, sadly, it really did make sense. The buzzing under her skin she’d interpreted as anger was just the cat miraculous calling out to her, to its guardian, waving its arms and screaming at her to just let him use it. And, now that she thought about it, it could only have been him. She’d probably recognized the feeling she had around Damian as the one she had around Robin subconsciously and transferred that anger onto him.

“You can’t tell anyone,” she warned.

He scoffed. “Why would I hide it? They already suspect you. Besides, it’s not like the rest of my family would care, they love you with and without the costume.”

She sat up and sent him a glare. “It’s not about that. I keep my identity secret because I want to. It’s my privacy, my secret, and you don’t get to a choice in this.”

Damian -- no, Robin -- no -- He opened his fingers to peek at her serious face and she caught an eye roll.

“And, if you don’t...” She added, her voice sickly sweet. “I’m sure your family would love to know exactly how I found out who you all were.”

It was a guess, really. She assumed that, because they were pretty open about being family as vigilantes, they all had to be in on it when they told someone about their identities. But it was still a guess. She gave him her most confident look so he wouldn’t think she was bluffing.

His eyes narrowed and he sat up as well. She scrutinized his face; she looked for fear or annoyance or something, but he’d managed to put together a perfect mask.

And then...

He sighed and stuck his hand out. “Fine. I don’t tell them anything, you don’t tell them anything. Deal?”

They shook on it.

“Deal.”

~

She spent the next three days (because Jason had thrown a fit when he’d realized she had messed up her ankle more) observing the family. It would be beneficial to learn which bat corresponded to which Wayne, it made it easier to keep her lies consistent.

She could go off of ages, of course. It was the easy way to guess, but she’d never been one to take the easy way.

Besides, the ‘hard way’ wasn’t actually all that hard.

Bruce Wayne was a reclusive billionaire known to adopt kids faster than they could say ‘hi’. Batman was a reclusive billionaire known to take vigilantes under his wing just as quickly.

Dick Grayson-Wayne was an ex-acrobat who was determined to figure out if Marinette and Ladybug were the same person. Nightwing incorporated acrobat-like flexibility and technique in fighting and was determined to figure out if Marinette and Ladybug were the same person.

Jason Todd-Wayne was a sarcastic guy with gray morals and a tendency to joke about committing murder. Red Hood was a sarcastic guy with gray morals and a tendency to actually commit murder.

Timothy Drake-Wayne was a coffee-addicted workaholic that was smart enough to become CEO of a company at a young age. Red Robin was a coffee-addicted workaholic that was smart enough to figure out Batman and Robin’s identities at a young age.

Honestly, she felt like banging her head on a wall for not realizing it sooner. Sure, she’d suspected it, but she’d been so determined for ‘proper’ proof that she didn’t realize that there was some pretty good proof right in front of her.

Well, at least she’d figured it out at some point, she supposed.

~

She sent Jason a glare as she scooped some coffee pods into her bag. “I am fine.”

“But --.”

“I am fine.”

He huffed. “You’re still limping.”

“I. Am. Fine.”

He opened his mouth one last time, but was cut off by Tim pushing past him to wrap her in a hug. “Beeeeaaaaan, please let me --.”

She rolled her eyes and didn’t bother to push him off, only detaching an arm so she could drink from her mug. “Not working a second time.”

He groaned and buried his face in her hair. She sighed and glanced at Jason. “Help.”

“Only if you promise to stay a bit longer,” he said without missing a beat, his lips curved into a Cheshire grin.

Marinette sent him a look before leaning into Tim. “You’re all allowed to come to my house at any point.”

“Yeah, but your house is boring,” complained Dick.

She threw a cup of coffee creamer at him and he dodged it without even sparing it a glance.

“It’s true, bean, it’s pretty empty in there.”

Marinette laughed quietly. “Fine. If you guys don’t like it then you’re not allowed back.”

Jason gasped and joined the hug. “How dare you?”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to trap me here?”

“Whaaaaat? Us? No,” said Dick as he, too, walked over and wrapped his arms around her.

Marinette decided she’d give them a few minutes. She could still reach her coffee, and that’s all that really mattered.

At least, until she saw Damian in the hallway. Her shoulders tensed slightly at the sight of him. Ever since their agreement they’d come to a kind of truce. After all, if they really wanted they could spill the secret. Sure, there was incentive to keep quiet, but if one of their tempers got the better of them...

“Help?” She tried.

He looked away and continued walking, leaving her to suffer.

She sighed and went to work prying arms off of her. There was a lot of whining, but none of them resisted.

Outside of Tim.

Dick broke into a grin and pulled Jason out, yelling that they were going to help pack her stuff over his shoulder. She didn’t believe that was quite it. For some reason.

“Tim,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Come back for Thanksgiving?” He asked.

She blinked. A little over a month beforehand he’d been desperate to keep her away from this place. She couldn’t help but smile a little. “Fine. I’ll stay for Thanksgiving. But only if you let go.”

“Fine.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows when he didn’t let go immediately.

“Um...?”

He smirked. “I said I’d let go, I never said when.”

She groaned and pushed him off. This time he let her. “You’re so annoying.”

“You love me.”

“Mmm,” she said, determined to not say yes or no.

He didn’t seem to notice, giving her a wide grin. “Right, ready to go?”

She smiled. “Yep!”

~~~

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<3

[watchtower-feed]

Waynesitter’s Runaway Bats

✧ Sometimes your job requires you to go on little excursions to drag back some family runaways. And when Alfred says little, it means Bruce intends for you to borrow the Batmobile.

✧ “Uhh… Thanks. But I’ll just use Tim’s Prius.”

✧ “Y/N, I insist.”

✧ “Mr. Wayne. I’d rather be bringing home your son and not another Arkham escapee.”

✧ Sometimes the others tag along with you when they’re awake, still alive, or generally just bored.

✧ “Oh my god, Tim. You have the worst songs.”

✧ “Apart from being dead weight in my car, Jason, what else are you good for?”

✧ “Tch. Y/N, Jason brought a gun again.”

✧ “Jason, I swear to god if you fire that gun you better shoot me first.”

✧ Whenever Dick runs away, he always goes to Amusement Mile, Gotham’s entertainment district, where Haley’s Circus used to be. When something really bad happens, Dick would actually leave town to follow the Circus’ tour. But for now, you pull over by the boardwalk.

✧ “Stay in the car.”

✧ “What if there’s trouble?”

✧ “I’ll light up a bat signal.”

✧ “Harhar, Y/N.”

✧ You quickly find Dick inside the large tent just sitting in the middle of the ring. He always greets you with a sheepish smile and pursed lips.

✧ “Time to go back already?”

✧ “I have two volatile children and Tim stuck in a Prius so…”

✧ Dick laughs and slowly gets up. “Okay.” When he reaches you, he stops and rests his head on your shoulder. You hear him sigh and quietly say, “I don’t know what I’m doing, Y/N. I’m no leader.”

✧ It’s one of those days. One when all the responsibility is on Dick’s shoulders and he feels like no one taught him how to be an adult. Not his parents. Not Bruce or Alfred. He still feels like a child. Most of the time you think he’s more a child than Damian. But the innocent kind. Not the murder you in your sleep kind. Or the annoying brat kind in general.

✧ “Y/N.”

✧ “Oh, sorry. I spaced out.”

✧ “Y/N!” he chuckles, “this is supposed to be the part where you say something that’ll motivate me to do the right thing.”

✧ “The right thing? I don’t even know the difference between laundry detergent and fabric conditioner. They both just clean clothes, right?” 

✧ He laughs. “Right.”

✧ “But Dick… No one’s ever going to say the exact thing you need to hear because only you know what that is. You just have to be patient with yourself and continue to listen to your gut. The fact that you’re here means you feel like you did something wrong. So it’s time to go and fix it.”

✧ As far as your speeches go, persuading Dick to go home is the easiest. But when it comes to Tim, you need to be a bit more creative. Or diabolical.

✧ “Uh, Robin. Your babysitter’s here to see you.”

✧ “Don’t let--”

✧ “Thanks, Beast Boy. Next time you’re in Gotham I’ll give you a tour of the cave. Oh hey, Tim. Fancy seeing you here.”

✧ “You’re in San Francisco. You’re at the Titans Tower. You know I would be here.”

✧ “Really? But why would you be all the way here when they need you in Gotham? BB just told me--”

✧ “BB??”

✧ “-- that the other Titans are home for the summer. Like you should be. Suspicious.”

✧ “Why are you here, Y/N?”

✧ You smile and take out a small folder from your bag. “I need help with Chemistry--”

✧ “Chemistry? You’re a lit maj-- Wait a minute… These are the compounds for Scarecrow’s fear toxin.”

✧ “Nope. Look at the bonding element.”

✧ “... It’s... It’s a mutation of Joker’s laughing gas!”

✧ Of course, once you get back, you’ll tell Tim you just fudged elements together and you’re surprised and proud of yourself for making up a whole new deadly chemical. By then, Damian or Jason is ready to apologize to Tim just like you practiced.

✧ On the other side of the spectrum, the least bat you have to worry about is Cass. Whenever she goes missing it’s the only time you volunteer to bring a Wayne back. Only because you always find her sitting on your couch hugging a bowl of popcorn.

✧ “What series are we binging tonight, Y/N?”

✧ “Legends of Tomorrow? It’s about a group of misfit superheroes who fixes history. You might recognize a few costumes.”

✧ Cass recognizes all of them. Sometimes you forget that Cass isn’t a civilian and she’s even more of a vigilante than the boys. That this is what most her life has been and she has no inclination to quit it.

✧ “Can I live with you?”

✧ “You can’t, Cass. You’ll know all my bad habits and then you won’t want to be my friend.”

✧ “You’re more than a friend, Y/N. You’re family.”

✧ “Oh god. I mean no offense, Cass. I love you, but the only reason you’re always trying to kill each other is because you’re family. I don’t want to be in your Lord of the Flies.”

✧ Cass doesn’t really get it. “They know every bad thing about me… but they still want me.”

✧ “Oh.”

✧ Cass is the most observant person you know. She knows exactly how the family feels about her and they would move Earths for her. But having never experienced any kind of love growing up and then jumping into their unconditional love, it shocks you and leaves you anxious about the day when the dream is over.

✧ “You can live with me one day but you gotta pay rent. I’m not letting you mooch off of me.”

✧ Cass smiles at you. You turn back to the TV and she curls up beside you all night before you take her home in the morning.

✧ Jason’s another one that’s easy to find. He always holes up in his own apartment because no one in his family would dare bother him there when he’s in a mood. This is one of those moments when you’re glad you’re not family.

✧ “Open up, Zombie boy!”

✧ “When are you going to stop calling me that?”

✧ “When you go to a derma and finally get rid of those autopsy scars. Seriously, Jason, they’re unsettling.”

✧ Jason touches his chest and then stays quiet the whole time you settle yourself in his apartment. With Jason, there are no words or tricks to play. Whenever he’s seen too much of the family he just needs time and distance. You’re only there to shorten that time and make sure the distance stays within city limits.

✧ “Can you sing it again?”

✧ But Jason makes you pay the highest price. Ever since he heard you whistle and sing The Dancing and the Dreaming from How to Train Your Dragon 2, he always asks you to sing it when he’s not particularly feeling high on his horse. So how could you refuse?

✧ “Sure. But could we not do a duet this time? It makes me feel like we’re having a Viking wedding.”

✧ “Damian would love that.”

✧ It’s bad. If Jason doesn’t fight you for that duet and just wants to close his eyes and listen, then something really bad happened. So you sing while you watch Jason relax in his chair. You maintain a slow tempo throughout the whole song.

✧ When Jason finally opens his eyes, tears slip through. He’s staring at you with wide eyes and he touches his cheeks, wondering why they’re wet. Your lips quiver and you bite them before you approach Jason and wipe his cheeks.

✧ “Was my singing that bad?”

✧ Jason blows on your face and laughs even though he’s still crying.

✧ You didn’t really know what to do when Alfred told you Damian ran back home. Isn’t this his home? But when you’re strapped in the batplane with the Batman, especially since he’s also your boss, you can’t really opt out anymore.

✧ “Mr. W-- Er Batman? Is it really smart to bring civilian me to the base of one of your mortal enemies?”

✧ “The League knows all of our identities--”

✧ “Yeah, but I think I’d feel a lot safer in a bullet-proof costume like yours. No offense.”

✧ “They use swords here, Y/N.”

✧ “Oh… kevlar can’t stop that?”

✧ When you arrive, the fortress is even more intimidating and terrifying than you imagined. You stick close to Batman, clutching his cape, and warily eye the assassins clad in all black, stationed at almost every corner.

✧ “It sort of feels like the cave. Maybe if you trained more bats, you can finally get some sleep or go to your 10 AM meetings.”

✧ Batman can’t suppress his grin. “Do you really want more of them to take care of?”

✧ “I would quit. Or make you quadruple my salary.”

✧ When you finally see Damian after several days of his disappearance, you forget yourself and run to him, only to be met with the hilt of a sword an inch away from your neck.

✧ Damian’s eyes widen when he realizes it’s you and drops his sword. He looks horrified. Quickly forgetting your own shock, you bend down and pick him up to hold him tight in your arms. You can feel him sobbing against your shoulder.

✧ “Beloved. I see you’ve started involving your servants in your crusade.”

✧ “Don’t be jealous, Talia. She’s only family.”

✧ “Damian,” you whisper. “Ready to go home? I might need your help in stopping Bruce from adopting me.”

✧ Damian sniffs. “That mustn’t happen if we’re going to be married in the future.”

✧ You don’t leave Damian’s side until you get back to the manor. You stay later just to lie beside him in his bed until he falls asleep. You’re brushing his hair when a thought comes to you. “You know, in the future, maybe run away to Paris. I hear they have an old cave network there. It might take me days or weeks to bring you home.”

✧ Damian scoffs and smiles. He turns to his other side, away from you. “Y/N, I’m trying to sleep.”

✧ “Yeah, but think about it okay? What are you doing tomorrow?”

Notes: Here’s that version of the song YN sings to Jason. Fair warning, it’s a Drarry animation.

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

[artxyra]

I have another request. Mari and Damian go to the same school. Suddenly a gas enters the school. Girls become a cat for 3 days. Boys are tasked with taking care of the cats and Damian gets Mari. 1st day they bond. (He calls her Angel) 2nd day she makes a robin costume (her logo has angel wings) and secretly goes with Robin on patrol. He gets attacked, she saves him, they love her. 3rd day when fam is out she makes Damian a cake. She turns to normal they become really close. Btw I love your work!

Note: I literally had nothing planned going into this, but once I started writing the story took in the direction that I never had intended but I do like. 

Damian Wayne was already on edge that day. He came to the school with an aura that was dark than the usual don’t mess with me. One dared to go near him, though a series of classmates wanted the school’s sunshine to ease the mess, she was nowhere in sight. In fact, the school is pretty sure they will never meet seeing as she’s been here for over a couple of months and never once had she met a person named Damian.

For Damian, he was on edge because of the night before. Batman and Robin had a run-in with this mysterious new villain and that has everyone on edge. There was no record of this villain and at first, they thought it was Selina, but she was out of the states and no one has heard from her in a while. The only clue they have is that the villain was also enthralled by cats.

So, when a mysterious yellow gas, Damian’s mood went beyond anyone could imagine. The gas spreads through the windows and into the classroom. Panic rose as the gas begins to cover only the females of the school. One-by-one they all shrink to an unbelievable size. Cat’s meow echoes from the gas and as the males swipe away the lingering gas remnants, they are faced with an unbelievable sight.

In the placements of every female in the room are cats wearing the school’s infamous uniform that apparently also shrinks to fit the cat’s bodies. A series of meows to hissing breaks the shock faces of the males.

Immediately, the school heads started to investigate. Using the cats as a base they found out that the girls could stay in this form for at least three days, if not more. After contacting the proper guardians/parents, it came down to those who couldn’t be able to return home due to strict reasons, such as living alone, or strict landlord rules about pets. Those that couldn’t go to their families were immediately assigned a caretaker regardless of status.

Damian at first was conflicted. Yes, he loves animals, but at the same time, there was a risk, his family’s secret. What happens if whoever he gets remembers their time as a cat? Was it that big of a risk? The appropriate answer is yes, but the animal lover in him said no.

“Here you, Marinette, meet your temporary caretaker.” The attendance persons say to the cat dressed in a pink vet with blue trim and the school’s logo on the pouch. He hands the cat version of Marinette to Damian, who was unsure of how to hold her. It’s not this cat is a normal cat, like Alfred.

Marinette squirms in Damian’s arms, he quickly readjusts her before opting to set her down. She flicks her tail across his legs and nods her head. Damian sighs, but not before the attendance person gives him a reassuring smile.

‘C’mon Marionette.” He grumbles walking towards the entrance of the school. Examining his peers, he can tell that some are way too happy about this predicament while others are completely nervous. Marinette, once again, meows gaining Damian’s attention. He looks down to see her playing with his pant legs. Unsure what she means, he picks her up and cradles her to his chest.

“Young Master,” He hears Alfred greets to him. Turning to give the family’s butler attention he tightens his hold on Marinette, who hisses in response. “The school has informed us of our newest visitor, I take it that you have a plan against your brothers.” The look on Damian’s usually stoic face says it all.

Upon entering the Wayne manor, Damian is grateful that his older brothers, aside from Tim, live outside of the manor. He knows that he couldn’t handle the constant amount of teasing that would ensure once word got out.

“Alfred tells me we have a visitor.” Damian sets Marinette down so that he could face his father. Bruce eyes the dark-haired cat before turning his attention back to his son. “Are you sure that is a good idea?”

Damian huffs, absently petting Marinette’s fur. “Of course, it is father. Why wouldn’t I bring her home? She needed a place to stay and after a long hard thought I decided that this was the best fit.”

Bruce curtly nods. “Just keep her away from the family’s hangout.” Damian acceptingly nods.

“C’mon Marionette, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying at. Be warned, that you are not the only cat here. Alfred can be very territorial.” Damian gestures for Marinette to follow. She meows and tots over to Damian.

They walk in silence. Damian was unsure what to say to a person he barely knows, and Marinette just eyes her surroundings.

That night, Damian went out as Robin once he triples checked that Marinette was sleep, but when he came back, he was greeted with Marinette yowling at him to go to sleep. He glares at the female cat as he swears, he heard Alfred the cat laughing at her commands.

The first day with cat Marinette was eventful. Damian was woken up by the lack of air as Alfred the cat was resting on his head. Once he had pried the black and white cat off of him, he is then greeted by Marinette’s sass. She flicks her tail and pries open the door before disappearing down the halls. Damian calls out to her, but it fades with the meowing from Alfred.

Once he made it downstairs, he sees Marinette sitting outside of the kitchen, she is eyeing the sleep-deprived nature of Timothy Drake. Tim was only seconds away from passing out with the steaming cup of coffee in hand.

Marinette jumps onto the table before anyone could scold her and push against Tim’s hand. He absently pets her thinking that it was probably Alfred annoying him. Marinette takes this moment to use her paws to push the coffee mug away from Tim. She looks around the room before jumping off the table and trots over to a cabinet.

Alfred, the human, appears behind Damian humming, he is intrigued. “It seems that Miss Marinette is on a mission. What would you like for breakfast young master?”

Damian murmurs his answer before he is quick at awe with how Marinette was mixing ingredients into a cup. With her nose, she nudges the cup over to Alfred, who picks up but not without petting her head. Handing the newly tainted cup to Tim, they wait patiently with baited breaths. Tim takes a long sip. Light snores then escape his lips as his head fits the table.

Damian stares at Marinette amazed. She lets out a meow and walks over to Damian, who picks her up and exits the kitchen area. Taking a seat on the couch, he begins to play with Marinette. Tapping her paws as she swats at him. Alfred, the human, quickly snags a couple of photos before proceeding with breakfast.

“How did you do that? Getting Drake to sleep?” Damian mentally slaps himself the moment the words left his lips. Marinette meows in response and snuggles closer to Wayne heir. “Maybe you’re not so bad as they say, Marionette.”

Marinette hisses at the male, her eyes becoming slits as she playful claws at him. Damian winces upon the nails attaching to his skin.

“Sorry, Angel.” He freezes in his spot. Never once had a nickname came out so capturing. Sure, he had called people by their last names, rarely their first, but nothing as meaningful as Angel.

He didn’t know how long he kept Marinette in his arms reading a book; however, what he does know it lasted enough time for Alfred to finish breakfast and call everybody down. Marinette’s purrs quickly turn into yowl as she felt her body move from its comfortable state.

Damian pats her head before entering the kitchen.

“Damian!” Bruce shouted upon exiting the dining room. In front of him is Marinette chasing Alfred the cat at high speed. She was jumping and dodging as Alfred was sliding and jumping past the future. Damian had to hold in his laugh when he saw the two cats running amuck. He could hear Marinette’s hissing, which made him wonder what Alfred did to upset the poor cat girl.

“An—Marionette,” He calls out ignoring his father’s Bruce Wayne version of the bat glare. Marinette meows, coming to a stop before jumping into Damian’s arms. She purrs as he slides his hand down her fur.

“Damian, please keep your friends under control.” Bruce then disappears down the hall probably to one of the many secret entrances to the cave. Damian doesn’t speak until he knows he is alone.

“Angel, what did Alfred do to you?” He asks the cat in his arms. Marinette looks to him and meows. “You want to do outside?” Unsure what she wanted, but the head gesture towards the window stated otherwise.

Marinette purrs in delight the moment her paws touch the ground outside the manor. Damian stares at her, curious as to what she’ll do. This was supposed to be the sunshine of their school anyway. Marinette trots off over to a bed of flowers. She sniffs them before letting out a sneeze. Damian holds in his breath, hoping that it would keep him from smiling or awing over the adorable sneeze. Maybe it was the fact that she’s a cat that making him feel this way?

Together they stay outside the manor until it was near lunchtime. Marinette teases him with her tail every chance she got meanwhile Damian was holding in the urge to yell or awe at her. It was becoming a dance of emotions.

“Young Master, your father is in need of your help.” Alfred calls out to him. Damian knowing what that meant, hands Marinette over to Alfred] before dashing off to become Robin. “He’ll be back Miss Dupain-Cheng would you like something to eat?” Marinette nods as Alfred hums his way to the kitchen.

Still sleeping in the same chair as earlier was Tim and right beside him with claws out is Alfred, the cat with a devious look in his eyes. Marinette squirms in Alfred’s, the human, arms. Tim moves just enough to avoid the incoming claw. Marinette hisses at the black and white cat, waking up Tim in the process.

“Uh, how long was I out for?” Tim looks around, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Uh, who’s the cat?”

“Master Timothy, you’ve been asleep all morning, now would you like anything to eat or join your father and brother?” Alfred asks hoping the third oldest male would choose food over crime-fighting. Tim’s stomach growls in response sealing his fate.

When Damian had returned that night after hours of crime-fighting, he was greeted with the sight of Marinette sleeping on his bed with Alfred, the cat, on the opposite side. Little did he know was that Marinette had wondered around the manor as Alfred, the human, began cleaning.

That night Damian swears he heard voices as he slept.

“Alfred, no~” It was feminine something that the unusual in the manor unless his sister or Selina came by. What follows quickly afterward is a series of meows.

Slightly awoken by the noise he darts upward; a daze looks in his eyes. In front of him are a pair of dark cat ears and long dark hair. Thinking that it was Marinette, he goes back to sleep for the night.

At the start of the second day, Damian was woken up by Marinette purring rather than Alfred smothering him.

“Morning Angel.” He greets the smaller of the two dark-haired cats. Marinette meows sliding her tail against his arm. It was then that he had noticed the change in the outfit the female cat was wearing. No longer was it her school uniform but an updated version of it with a pink ruffle skirt around her waist. Confused, Damian wasn’t sure whether he should question the new information or integrate the cat. Choosing to ignore the outfit change, he begins to get ready for the day.

Marinette sneaks out of the bedroom and down the halls.  

When Damian sees Marinette later that morning, all he could do was groan at the sight before him. It had to be Dick that had entered the manor for the day. Didn’t the oldest Wayne had a job?

“Grayson, what are you doing here?” He asks glaring at the fact that Dick had Marinette in his arms.

“Baby bird, why didn’t you tell me that you had gotten a new pet. I’m sure B wasn’t too happy.” Marinette meows loudly in his arms.

“Tt, she’s a guest, for the time being, Grayson, now put An-her down. She doesn’t like to be held by strangers.” Damian was quick to catch himself saying her nickname. Dick pouts and reluctantly puts the cat down.  

“She’s already better than Alfred, the cat. Which reminds me, Alfred the butler says that breakfast is done if you want any. Timmy already ate and ended up disappearing.” Dick’s reply instantly causes Marinette to run in the direction of the kitchen. Damian narrows his eyes feeling a slight sense of betrayal.

Dick turns to Damian and wraps his arm around the younger’s shoulder and laughs, “C’mon, baby bird.”

That night as Damian was getting ready for patrol, he doesn’t realize the makeshift smaller version of the Robin uniform being pulled out by the teeth of Marinette’s mouth. She tugs against the uniform and slowly puts it on. Trotting over to the mirror, she checks herself out and sneakily follows Damian to the Bat cave.

For a cave full the world’s greatest detective, them not noticing a small cat wearing a cape that has the Robin emblem with addition to having angel wings was the most face-palming feat they have ever done.

Marinette snuggles her way into a hidden compartment on Robin’s motorbike. She waits until she could feel was rumbling of the engine. The engine soon cuts off, popping her head out of the hidden compartment, she looks around. Nothing felt out of place for her. Though she could feel the pulsating effects of the magic with her.

She could still hear Damian checking out the buildings. There is nothing to report on, something she knows the feeling all to well with her time being Ladybug. Late-night patrols were her worst nightmare.

Staying put, Marinette knew she couldn’t move, not just yet. There needs to be the ultimate reason for her to reveal herself. That lasted until the growing sounds of someone grunting and punching filled her sensitive ears.

“Oh, how the little birdy is struggling against someone like little old me.” A voice says off in distance.

Turning her head, she finally sees Robin in the midst of what looks like hand-to-hand combat with this new cat-obsessed villain. She could also see that Damian was struggling to maintain the upper power over the villain.

The villain places Robin and locking hold.

Marinette jumps out of the hidden spot instantly transferring into the catgirl form. Her ears perk at the sound of grunts, she moves quickly to the fighting scene. Incepting the hold, she frees Robin who falls backward.

“It seems my magic has evolved or you’re just a magical being.” The villain murmurs but she was able to pick up.

“It was you that turned the school into cats.” Marinette accuses as she felt her emotions go into over-drive. With heighten senses she engaged in combat with the villain.

The villain taunts her as Robin struggles to readjust himself. The paralyzing effects of whatever the villain holds over him fading away. He could barely hear the sounds of his family over the earpiece as he watches in shock seeing the Angel, he had been taking care of fighting the villain that turned females into cats.

She could feel the magic he was wielding pushing against her own, telling her to revert into her cat form. Pushing against the call, Marinette holds herself firm against the incoming blows.

“Augh, I got no time for this.” The villain waves his device. Marinette hisses feeling the shrinking feeling taking over again.

With a mighty blow narrowly defeats the villain just as the magic turns her back into a cat. Licking her paw, she trots over to Robin and brush against his legs. He is too in shock to do anything.

The next thing the pair knew, Red Robin was cuffing the cat villain as Nightwing and Batman make their way over to Robin, trying to get him to speak. Robin was unsure how to answer any of the questions, he simply just gestured to Marinette.

Marinette’s eyes twinkle as Nightwing takes her into his arms gushing about how great of a cat she is; however, the same couldn’t be said for Batman.

“She saved me, father if it wasn’t for her who would have known what the Cat-caller would have done to me.” Damian finally speaks placing his foot down against his father’s better judgment. Batman tried to up the fact that she knows their family secret, but even he couldn’t deny the possibilities.

Finally patting her fur, everyone knew that she had won over the famous Batman and Bruce Wayne’s appreciation.

When Damian and Marinette had returned to the manor, he couldn’t help but be at odds with her. He didn’t know what to say, to ask even. This cat had saved him, knows his family's biggest secret, and could fight. This was not something he normally deals with within a single day. He watches her as she slept in her little area, wondering what to say to her when she becomes human once again.

Damian falls asleep never noticing the sincere look one eye open of Marinette.

Today was supposed to be the last day for all the females in their school to be human. The girls were excused from the classes however the males were not. It was Tim that left the manor first, then it was Damian and Bruce followed not long after. Alfred, the human, needed to run some errands living the animals alone in the manor.

Marinette could feel the magic effects of the gas waning off. She chased Alfred, the cat, around the manor because he ended disrupting her relaxing time only to be followed by Titus soon after. She had barely spent any time with the other animals over the course of the two days.

Waking up after a quick catnap, Marinette began to realize that she was no longer in her cat form, but in her catgirl form instead. Her ears perk up with an idea. Maybe she should Damian a thank you cake for everything he has done for her. Yup, that is exactly what she is going to do.

Calling for the animals to follow her, she makes her way into the kitchen. Quickly locating the ingredients, she immediately got to work but not before believing she is on a cooking show giving instructions to her audience, the animals.

They all watch Marinette, intrigued by what she’ll make. Titus had nudged her hand a few times reminding her that Damian was a vegetarian allowing her to make the changes quickly before mixing them together.

As the cake baked in the oven, she began mixing a vanilla vegan frosting, a recipe she remembers her parents making when the customer was strictly a vegan. The buttercream came out nice and silky. It wasn’t long before the cake was done and put in the chiller for cooling. Marinette knew that she only made hours before anyone would return to the manor. Hopefully, by then she would have fully reverted to a human.

The cake was done and fully decorated before Alfred had returned with Damian behind him. Marinette, now fully human, smiles at the two with a joy that could defeat all darkness.

“I made you a cake as thanks for handling me as a cat. You didn’t have to, but you did.” Marinette place a quick peck on the youngest Wayne’s cheek before cutting him a slice.

“Uh...” Damian was speechless. Little did he know was that Alfred was filming the encounter with a knowing smirk. Maybe this would be the person that thaw out the ice prince’s cold heart.

“Don’t it’s vegetarian safe, you can thank Titus for reminding me and thank Alfred, the cat, for not attempting to sabotage it while I was baking,” Marinette adds when she saw the look in Damian’s eyes and the way his body language spoke upon being handed the slice of cake.

Together, against all odds, they sat in silence eating their own slice of cake. Alfred even takes one and appraises the young woman about her craftwork. She then explains that her parents owned a bakery growing up and that she’s been baking ever since she could remember.

Properly meet the rest was of the Wayne family was at dinner, when Damian begged her to stay the night to which she turned down on the basis that she needed a change of clothes and that she should go, check out her dorm apartment and make sure everything was okay.

In the weeks that follow, everyone at their school was in shock seeing the ice prince and sunshine incarnated hanging out with one another. No was surprised when the two began dating a couple of months after the cat situation. They were a match made in heaven.

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[dukethomas]

Summary: Duke and Damian, over the years. 

Written for @duketectivecomics’ Duke Week! Day Four is Reverse Robin, though I modified it so it could be Reverse Batfam. Reverse Batkid? Still works.

-

Duke is nine. He’s Batman’s partner, Lark, and helping Batman punch the living daylights out of criminals helps him forget his parents’ grins and their laughter, and his laughter. (Bruce benches him whenever he’s working on a Joker case. Duke doesn’t complain.) It’s fun, and he’s good at it.

However, he’s heard enough about the League of Assassins, and he’s watched footage in training of Bruce fighting off a whole horde of Assassins (with a capital A) to know that these guys aren’t to be trifled with. And while Duke has spirit and guts and instinct and smarts, what he doesn’t have is the grace anyone in that footage has. He’s still training. He has a long way to go.

And he definitely can’t fight off an Assassin on his own. He’ll try, sure, but he has his limits.

So when he runs to open the door—he and Alfred have made a game out of it, because they kept running into each other whenever the doorbell rung. Whoever gets there first gets a fresh batch of cookies or tea made just for them by the loser—his eyes widen and his jaws drop when he sees Talia al Ghul.

And a boy, who’s taller than him, so Duke assumes he’s older. The boy sniffs and turns his nose up at Duke.

A few seconds too late, Duke settles into his fighting stance. His fists are up and he stares down Talia al Ghul and the boy, hoping something in his eyes would tell them to back down, something steely and indomitable, like all the books say.

Talia al Ghul chuckles. “Down, boy,” she says, her eyes glittering with mirth. “Neither of us intend to cause harm.”

“Speak for yourself,” the boy mutters, glancing at Duke, but Talia al Ghul doesn’t seem to hear it. The boy is unsettlingly quiet and still for someone who doesn’t even look that much older than Duke. He holds himself weirdly. It’s not unlike the entitled rich kid pose, but it’s also tense and lax at the same time.

Like how Bruce fights, Duke realizes. His mind is tense but his body is calm.

“Uh,” he says ever so eloquently. “Bruce! Alfred!”

Bruce shows up three minutes later, and the boy inhales sharply, but softly. Duke is already getting tired of the oxymorons.

“This,” Talia al Ghul says with a light flourish, “is your son. Damian al Ghul Wayne.”

I’m sorry, what?

Duke glances back at Bruce to see what he thinks, and Bruce’s eyebrows are tightly knit together. “You told me you lost the child,” he murmurs.

“I lied,” responds Talia al Ghul, a line of regret tracing her nonchalant tone. “My father’s wishes.”

And what happens after devolves into boring grown-up talk, so Duke stops paying attention. He keeps an eye on their respective body languages, in case this turns into a fight.

But he hates being by adults who are talking without him with nothing else to do, so he turns to the boy—Damian.

“Our names both start with a D,” he offers, smiling at Damian.

Damian doesn’t smile back. Instead, he scoffs, and says nothing else. What Duke has gathered is that Damian was raised with the League of Assassins, which means chances of him being an Assassin too are nearly one-hundred percent. But Talia al Ghul has years, decades, maybe centuries of training on Damian, and Damian can’t hide the worry in his eyes nearly as well. Plus, Duke’s good at reading people, Bruce says it’s a talent.

So he tries again to talk to Damian. “You’re coming to stay with us, right?” A small nod. Success! “I gotta show you all the good places to hide. It won’t hide us from Alfred, because Alfred knows all, but if you don’t want to listen to Bruce, well.” He gestures at Bruce and Talia al Ghul jabbering on about something adult-y.

“Tt,” is the only sound that comes from Damian, and it’s the third oxymoron so far. It’s simultaneously amused and disapproving, and that’s when Duke thinks he knows the problem.

Damian has a shadow cast over him, a long and dark one he can’t seem to shake.

Well, that’s fine. Duke has always clung to the light better than the shadows, he’ll just be Damian’s light as well as Batman’s.

-

Damian doesn’t warm up to Duke quickly, though not for lack of trying on Duke’s part. The older boy keeps brushing him away and getting all huffy, and downright rude. Once Duke sneaks up on Damian and he whips around with a blade pointed towards Duke’s head. Yeesh.

Duke eventually decides it’s easier to stay away. Do his Lark business, go to school, let Bruce deal with Damian.

And he thinks Damian resents him for that. Duke can see why—Bruce gets all stiff and cold with Damian, like he was in the first month of Duke living there, but he’s caught Damian lingering in the doorway of Duke’s bedroom watching Bruce hover around Duke more than once—but honestly? He’s just tired of it. And he wishes he could help, but clearly there’s something deeper there.

Still. Duke doesn’t dislike Damian. Damian’s just… rough around the edges. And sometimes those rough edges are deadly and sharp and Alfred tells him to stay away from knives in the kitchen (even though Duke’s fought off goons with knives before).

(And Duke’s used to rough edges, he thinks, shuddering as a boisterous laugh comes from the TV when he does his homework.)

“Hey, Batman?” he asks one night during a stakeout.

Bruce looks over to him, eyebrow clearly raised even if Duke can’t see it through the cowl.

Duke shines his flashlight into Bruce’s eyes, earning him a curse and a scowl. “When are you going to talk to Dami—um, D?”

“Put that down,” Bruce commands gently, pulling the flashlight away, but Duke just redirects it. “I’ve been talking to him.”

“Yeah, to tell him off! When are you going to treat him like your son, B? You treat me more like a son than him, and I’m not even—” He cuts himself off. “I’m not even your son.” Which shouldn’t feel like it’s gnawing at him inside to say, because it’s true. Doug Thomas is his dad and will always be, but…

He shakes his head. The focus is on Damian right now.

“Are you ever going to let him… y’know?” he blurts. He’s always finding Damian in the Cave (Batcave, Duke insists, but Bruce just ruffles his hair) wielding his sword. He has half a mind to ask Damian to train with him, because Duke knows if he wants to be better, he has to learn from the best. And Damian looks incredible when he practices. All fluid and graceful, like he learned how to fight before he could walk.

Bruce’s hand reaches towards Duke, then draws back. “We don’t use lethal methods, Lark.”

“Then teach him non-lethal methods.”

The answer seems clear as daylight to Duke, though evidently, not so much to Bruce. He hopes it helps anyways.

And then the thugs they’re on the lookout for walk into the warehouse with a confident swagger, and it’s showtime. By the time they’re done, Duke is grinning and bouncing, saying, “I just knocked that guy out, did you see that? That was so cool!”

Batman never loses his stony demeanor while in costume, but if the edges of Bruce’s mouth curve upwards on the Batmobile ride home, Duke knows to not tell anyone.

Unfortunately, his dreams are less than pleasant.

It’s his parents again. When is it not? They’re pressed up against the glass, his mom has this crooked smirk, and she snarls at him. She bangs her fist on the glass and yells, “I’m going to kill you!”

Duke backs up, finding only a foot of space between the glass and the wall behind him. “Mom,” he croaks out, but she doesn’t hear. She never does. “Mom, it’s me, it’s Duke, your son.” His eyes burn and tears come spilling out.

The lights flicker once, twice, before zapping out completely, leaving him and his parents in darkness.

His mom cackles, and tells him, “I know. I know!” and she’s more aware than she’s been in months, and she barrels her head into the glass. It cracks, shards of glass flying around Duke.

A plea is on his lips as she lunges at him, and he jolts up, his shirt damp with sweat.

He’s in his bedroom at Wayne Manor, he dully realizes. He’s still shrouded with darkness, but his parents aren’t here. They had considered moving his parents on the grounds, but ultimately decided against it.

He lets himself pant, gripping his bedsheets. Would he be a bad son if he thinks that was a good decision?

Duke hears footsteps outside his door and freezes, his heart pounding in his ears. He squeezes his eyes shut.

Someone opens the door, and there’s a click—a familiar one, from the light switch. Duke cranes his neck to see Damian entering, the older boy awkward and groggy in his movements, but there.

Damian is still in the doorframe, his eyes roaming the room and looking anywhere but at Duke. Something gleams in his left pocket. “I heard… there were screams. Did you need something, Thomas?”

“Please,” Duke whispers, eyes wide and staring at the shadow behind Damian. “Can I have a hug?”

Damian pauses, steps back, then moves forward, making a beeline towards Duke. He envelops Duke into a hug, oddly detached and patting Duke on the back, but a hug nonetheless. Duke leans into the touch, feeling a tear roll down his face and onto Damian’s shirt. “Sorry,” he mumbles, his throat tight.

“It’s… alright,” Damian replies. “I was already awake. And I have other items of clothing.”

For some reason, that brings on the sobs into full-force, with Duke gasping for breath as he lets it all out. Damian is there, still patting Duke on the back until it becomes a rhythmic comfort.

Duke doesn’t know when he drifts off to sleep, but he wakes up with Damian’s shirt draped over him with his green blanket.

Sunshine slips in through the curtains, hastily pulled open, as sunshine blooms in Duke’s chest. He sprints downstairs, jumping and skipping stairs like he’s walking on air.

“Slow down, Master Duke!” Alfred reprimands, and Duke shrugs and does as Alfred says, but only a little bit.

He almost runs straight into Damian, but he stops himself just in time. He opens his mouth to thank Damian, but Damian furrows his eyebrows at Duke and says, “Did you talk to Father? He spoke to me about training,” and a tension has been lifted from Damian’s shoulders. He’s springier.

“I think?” Duke says, knocking his knuckles on his head trying to recall what else happened last night. “Yeah?”

Damian stares at him, his brown eyes meeting Duke’s own with a hint of something gleaming in the light. “Thank you,” he tells Duke honestly.

“No problem!” Duke chirps. And before he can take it back, he says, “That’s what brothers are for.”

(He doesn’t take it back when asked about it later. The term “brothers” feels right, even if they only started having amiable conversations last night. He doesn’t think about the implications.)

-

It’s six months of non-lethal training until Damian is deemed fit to go out into the field. Duke leans on Damian’s shoulder as the older boy sketches out a mannequin with armor. It’s when “Shadow” is written in neat cursive that Duke realizes it’s meant to be Damian’s suit.

He blinks, his eyes drooping.

He doesn’t have patrol tonight, or tomorrow for that matter, but he really needs to lay off the late-night patrols. And the late-night training. He doesn’t want to fall asleep in the middle of class.

“That looks cool,” he comments, taking in the design. It’s gray and black, a bat in the chest. Damian fills in the outline of a cowl, and—

“Hey, wait, is this just a mini Batman costume?”

Damian stiffens. Almost imperceptibly, but Duke is busy soaking up Damian’s warmth right now, so he notices.

Duke moves the desk lamp so he can see the drawing more clearly. “C’mon, Damian,” he says, “I know you can be more original than this.”

“Tt,” Damian responds, still tracing over the lines he’s already drawn. “It has already proven itself to be a suitable design; why bother?”

A curl falls in front of Duke’s eyes, and he blows it away. Huffs, puffs, and the whole shebang. “Because you’re not Bruce? I have my own suit. I chose the colors!” Yellow with black accents, because it’s always been a hopeful color for Duke, and that’s what he wants to inspire—hope. Also, it’s a lark color scheme, minus brown, because wearing brown? Yuck.

Yeah, sure, Lark has been described as a child flashlight several times, but Duke stands by his decision. Even now, thinking about his suit makes him smile.

Damian pauses for a while after that. His hand stills. “Are you suggesting Father isn’t someone I should aspire to be like?”

“Be like,” Duke points out. “Not be. Seriously. I think you would look really cool in green!”

A scoff comes from Damian at that. “I chose the name Shadow for a reason, I will not go out in bright colors and compromise stealth.”

Duke yawns and snuggles closer into Damian’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Dami. I’m just saying, you don’t have to be Batman.” His eyes close, and it’s a sweet relief. Damian doesn’t respond for a while, so Duke adds, voice soft, “I think Lark looks cooler than Batman, anyhow.”

He wakes up on Damian’s bed, the older boy and his sketch conspicuously missing. When Duke heads down to the Batcave for training, he sees a new paper pinned. He recognizes the swoopy thin lines of Damian’s art, but the design is totally new.

The suit is wicked cool, dark gray and all jagged edges where the Batman suit has smooth lines, and a little circle to the side of the chest with a Bat rather than one spread across the chest. It’s cloaked rather than caped, the hood concealing hair instead of a cowl. A black domino mask with white lenses covers the eyes. Golden accent lines run throughout the suit, and Duke wonders if people affiliated with the Bat can only really have one color scheme: black, gray, and yellow or gold.

He grins, looking at it, but turns at the quiet footfalls he’s been learning to recognize.

“Good morning!” he chirps at Damian, who’s rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes. Despite that, he’s already dressed, wearing a forest green sweater and black jeans.

Damian half-smiles and arches an eyebrow. “Do you still believe that Lark’s suit is the coolest?”

And c’mon, Duke has to defend his honor. He sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry. “Always and forever.”

“Well then, it appears you have been misinformed,” Damian hums.

Damian’s suit is completed within the week, and Duke has to admit—it looks even cooler when it’s real. Lark’s is still the best, though.

-

Duke would be lying if he says he isn’t dumbfounded every time he gets to visit the Watchtower. It’s in outer freakin’ space, of course he’s impressed. His headquarters is a literal cave. Even with four years as Lark under his belt, his jaw still drops.

Batman’s here for a routine League meeting. Normally, he and Damian don’t come with, but another sidekick—Duke makes a face at the word, he prefers the term partners, but the media sticks with that—debuted the other day. He goes by Kid Flash, and he seems pretty cool. Duke’s looking forward to meeting him… if the Flashes ever showed up on time.

Which they do not. So Duke and Damian wait, along with some others—Aqualad, Teen Lantern, Red Arrow, and Crush this time around—with Hawkwoman as their babysitter of sorts. She’s not the most thrilled with this assignment, but Duke can’t blame her, it’s pretty boring.

Duke and Damian sit with each other by the wall. Superboy should have been here but he and Superman had civilian duties to take care of, so they sit in comfortable silence.

He gives up within two minutes. It’s just too long to wait while doing nothing. He stands up to have a look around the Watchtower, maybe he can even find that huge window that shows off the expanse of space. His English teacher will love the words he writes about it.

Something catches his eye, a dull silver in the edges of his vision. Duke heads towards it, and to his delight, Hawkwoman left her mace on a table. A grin splits his face and he reaches out to hold it.

“What are you doing?” Damian hisses from behind him, pulling his hands away from the mace. “Don’t touch that!”

“But Shadow!” Duke argues. “It’s right there! It’s not even harmful, I think! It’s made out of alien metal, right? That’s so baller, I have to feel it for myself.”

Damian sighs and puts his head in his gauntlet-covered hands. “Nth metal, Lark. It’s made of Nth metal, and is potentially very dangerous.”

Duke takes the spare moment of distraction to hold the Nth metal, and he grins up into the ceiling. A mistake, he realizes as industrial lights beam down at him, causing him to squint and glance down.

Damian moves forward to pull the mace out of his hands, except there’s a quality to him, a certain golden sheen, and Duke backs up. He blinks, and Damian hasn’t even moved, but then he does, again, in the exact same way as before.

Damian’s lenses widen. “Lark, let that go. Now!” he commands. “It has an effect on you. Your eyes are—”

Duke blinks a few more times, not hearing the rest of that. His vision is so much sharper now. It’s making him a little dizzy, but he doesn’t say that.

Instead, he does let go of the mace, and it clatters to the floor noisily.

“Shadow,” he blurts, lurching forward.

Damian catches him and pulls him up into an embrace. Duke may be twelve now, but he’s reminded of his dad’s hugs. Firm and protective. He leans into it. “Are you alright?” Damian whispers into Duke’s ear.

Duke’s vision swims with lights and colors and brightness. He buries his face into Damian’s chest, relishing the darkness. He nods.

Damian’s hand rests on Duke’s back. “We’ll… we’ll figure this out,” he promises.

-

Duke swallows down a glass of punch at the side of the room in the middle of a gala. It slides down his throat and sloshes around in his stomach uneasily.

He stares at Cass, quiet for a ten-year-old but the brightest person in the room. Everywhere she goes, by Bruce’s side or not, people flock to her and their gazes are drawn in her direction. She glides through the gala graceful as the moon, but with the attention she’s getting, you’d think she’s the sun.

The gala is being held in celebration of Bruce’s adoption of Cass. A darling princess for the Wayne lineage, says one newspaper. Bruce Wayne’s pity adoptee, sneers another.

And Duke can relate. Bruce and Alfred tried to hide it from him, but the tabloids didn’t have anything good to say about him either. But Duke’s mind lingers on the difference.

He shakes his head, staring at his deep brown eyes through the cerise lense of the punch. It’s silly. Of course Bruce wouldn’t adopt him; Duke has perfectly good parents already. It would make the paperwork easier should—when his parents get cured.

“Something’s wrong,” Damian observes, walking up behind Duke.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Duke replies, ignoring the way his chest twists at the words.

He can practically feel Damian raise his eyebrows. “You’re lying, and we both know it. Come with me, Duke.”

Duke follows without a retort, and Damian leads him to the balcony. The gentle moonlight and starlight welcomes him more than the harsher lights of the chandeliers inside ever have.

“Since when did you become the emotionally intuitive one?” Duke asks, crossing his arms over the railing.

Damian huffs. “I am still not aware of what’s going on with you. But I am… I’m your older brother. It’s my duty.”

Duke hums at that. The description resonates deep in his bones, a familiar comfort, and it had never felt wrong. More like puzzle pieces snapping together.

Brother often means they share a father. It just as often can mean they do not. And Duke didn’t think they did—did they?

“It’s not Cass’ fault,” he says, playing a mental game with the Gotham skyline. He always tries to find his old neighborhood, before he got taken in by Bruce. It helps him remember, so one day, he might come home and he wouldn’t have forgotten. “It’s my brain that’s being fucky.”

“Language,” Damian reprimands under his breath. He then speaks in a louder tone, now meant for Duke’s ears. “I didn’t think so. You were never the resentful type. I’m grateful for that.”

Duke throws his head back to laugh. Five years ago, Damian would rather stab him than talk about feelings like this. Duke wanted to train with Damian. Funny how things change. “No, it’s—it’s something else. Bruce adopted Cass. That’s what’s bothering me, I think.”

Damian tilts his head at Duke. “Would you prefer for Father,”—Baba, now, behind closed doors, but Duke wouldn’t pry—“to adopt you?”

“No. I don’t think so. Would I? I already have a dad.” Duke sucks in a breath. He’d gone to visit them last weekend. No improvements, as per usual. Not even lucid enough to give Duke death threats.

“Family isn’t bound by blood,” Damian reminds him softly. “I have a brother now, and a sister. Who’s to say you can’t have two fathers?”

Duke blinks rapidly. His finger brushes the corner of his eye and comes away wet. “And I’m not a bad son? I’m not abandoning my dad for Bruce?”

“Absolutely not.”

And just like that, a dam bursts. One tear rolls down Duke’s cheeks, then another, then several more. Despite this, hope settles into his chest with the cool touch of the moon and stars.

“Thank you, Dami,” Duke says, jumping into a hug with the taller boy (though Damian won’t remain that for long—Duke shot up rapidly in the last year or so, and he’s quickly approaching Damian’s height).

Damian returns the hug, his chin warm against Duke’s shoulder when he tells Duke, “Anytime.”

-

Damian is dead.

Duke’s breath hitches, with quiet little Cass by his side and Steph and Harper there for moral support. The funeral is closed casket—the cover story had been kidnappers and an explosion, and thus, no body to bury.

Duke had seen Damian’s body. He and Bruce were a moment too late. Duke is fast, faster than Bruce when desperate, but he had glimpsed a moment into the future and fell back, momentarily blinded by the explosion that hadn’t even happened yet.

Maybe if he hadn’t relied on his powers, maybe if he’d pushed past that to run, maybe if he arrived a minute or two earlier, Damian wouldn’t have—

Cass squeezes his hand. Duke squeezes back, numb to the core. He lets go and steps back, into the shade of a tree.

Damian’s funeral is held on a day where the sun glares, its heat searing into their skin. It’s not right. Nothing about this is right. Damian is—was—seventeen.

After the funeral, Duke writes a note to Bruce. He writes that he’s resigning as Lark. He can’t do this anymore, not when Lark’s partner is Shadow as well as Batman. His words tumble out without eloquence, and his tears smear the ink.

He flees.

And maybe he’s a coward. He can live with that. But Gotham—the city of rebirth, he liked to call it. The city of new beginnings. The city that had always seemed like stubbornness and perseverance and hope. It was Damian’s beginning, but it was also his end.

And Duke remembers why another name was given to Gotham.

(City of death. Death and rebirth is the whole phrase. He can’t ever forget that.)

It’s marred with the memory of them, of Damian, of his parents, of the kid that hoped and told himself if no one else would help, he would. Duke can’t stay here. No matter how much this feels like a betrayal to his family, to his father that believed Gotham would shine true, to his mother who came here to start a new life, to Damian whose smile was like Gotham’s sun, he can’t stay. He can’t. He can’t.

So what if Duke is a traitor? He doesn’t have many left to betray.

Instead, he seeks refuge in Blüdhaven, notorious for being the only city worse than Gotham. A simple city, one that held no pretenses of goodness, one that wouldn’t betray Duke.

Duke thought he was Damian’s light, but now that Damian’s gone, he knows better.

Damian was a light all on his own, and without him, Duke’s light shatters into tiny shards.

One morning not long after the funeral, Duke wakes up to find the sun assaulting his eyes, which is a rarer occurrence in Blüdhaven than in Gotham.

He shuts the blinds and cries in the quiet, shadowed room, his chest heaving with every sob, painfully aware that every gasped breath is a breath Damian will never get to take.

-

(The next two years seem to fly by. Duke becomes Blüdhaven’s Signal, and begins to take on the local gangs. He dismantles them from the inside out, with a focus he didn’t often have before.

He becomes an emancipated minor at barely fifteen, and he enrolls himself into a public high school. He used to have a 4.0 GPA. Now, with late nights spent fighting, and early mornings spent applying makeup over the bruises, his school performance dips.

A boy, small and skinny, appears on his doorstep. Duke recognizes him—it’s Timothy Drake, the next door neighbor who Duke would visit every once in a while, the boy with the emptiest house Duke has ever seen. “I know you used to be Lark,” Tim Drake tells him, “that Bruce Wayne is Batman, and that Damian used to be Shadow.”

Duke flinches and nearly slams the door in tiny Tim’s face right there and then. (Duke is only two years older, but sometimes it feels like it could be centuries in between them.)

“I need you to be Lark again. Batman has been uncontrolled, lately. Violent.”

“No,” Duke says firmly, crossing his arms. “I’m not—I won’t go back.” Which is a lie. He briefly went back to finalize the emancipation. He avoided Bruce’s eyes, then.

“He needs you!”

“He needs his son!” Duke retorts. “And he has—he has Batgirl and Black Bat and Bluebird. He doesn’t need me.”

Tim only looks at him with steely blue eyes, and something in them causes a pit to drop in Duke’s stomach. Oh god, why didn’t he keep up with Gotham news, did someone else…?

Duke holds onto the memory of texting Cass yesterday. She said she was staying at Steph’s and Harper’s place, which meant all three are safe. (Right? Right.)

“I’m sorry,” he tells Tim earnestly, “but I can’t do it. I’m not that guy anymore.” And then the door shuts, with a soft click. Duke waits by the door until he hears Tim’s footsteps fade.

Jon Kent visits. Duke lets him in, and soon enough, teen heroes stop by Duke’s apartment in droves. Duke was only ever a reserves Teen Titan, to be called upon if there was an emergency; Damian was the one who made friends within the Titans, while Duke’s friends remained squarely in Gotham. Still, Titans stop by to say their condolences or just laugh over the counter with cups of instant hot cocoa.

It helps relieve the ache of loneliness. Duke doesn’t realize how much he needs other people to thrive until he calls for a Teen Titans study session and notices with glowing warm pride that his grades are straight A’s once again.

And… Duke travels back to Gotham. Not to stay, the wounds are still too fresh, but he has a conversation with Bruce, the man that has almost been a father to him for years now, and he thinks it might not be so bad.

Tim is Shadow now. Tim had a choice between Lark and Shadow, and he chose what he knows best. Instead, Steph becomes Lark while Cass fills in Steph’s shoes as Batgirl.

It’s almost a heartwarming picture of a not-quite family.

And Duke wonders if, one day, Damian might be a happy memory to look back to.

Of course, that’s when Damian returns.)

-

“You let him replace me,” Damian snarls, his hands balled into fists.

Duke freezes in place, staring at the man under the red helmet. Damian’s eyes glint with green, a sharp green that terrifies where the brown used to comfort. A shadow covers nearly three quarters of Damian’s face, but the green still pierces.

“Dami,” he says, his voice cracking. “You—you’re—”

Alive, Duke doesn’t get to say before Damian lunges at him with a knife, his eyes gleaming with madness.

-

“You have reached Red Hood. Do not try to contact me again.”

“Hey, yeah, Dami, it’s Duke, Harper and I finally found this number, I just… I just want to let you know you’re welcome back in the family whenever. Bruce isn’t even—he’s not even that angry anymore. All we want is for you to come home. We miss you. Please. I’ll call again if you don’t respond in twenty-four hours.”

“You have reached Red Hood. Do not try to contact me again.”

“Duke again. What the fuck, Damian? I know you’re seeing this. I saw you on the news. Someone managed to record a video of you walking out of that warehouse—we were going to ambush them tomorrow night, but I guess the first one there can call dibs. Anyways, I saw you check your phone. You know I’m here. You didn’t even kill any of them this time. Please come home. Calling again in twenty-four hours if you don’t respond.”

“You have reached Red Hood. Do not try to contact me again.”

“Am I the only one who leaves you voicemails? Does anyone else know you have this number, like, at all? That’s not the point. The point is that we’re still waiting. And you can come back whenever you’re ready. I just… yeah. Yeah. I’ll talk to you again in twenty-four hours.”

“You have reached Red Hood. Do not try to contact me again.”

“You know, Cass scared the shit out of Bruce the other day? She’s opened up a lot since after you… uh. Well. Anyways, you should have seen his face, Dami, it was hilarious. Almost as good as that time we put glitter into the vents of the Batmobile. I’ll talk to you again, yeah? Yeah.

“You have reached Red Hood. Do not try to contact me again.”

“I’m not actually part of the family, did you know that? Became an emancipated minor a few months after you died. I don’t know why I keep trying—if you won’t come back for family, who says you’ll come back for me? ...Does this sound sudden to you? For context, Bruce and I screamed at each other for a half hour straight about… never mind. I’ll talk to you la—oh, what the hell, you know the drill.”

“You have reached Red Hood. Do not try to contact me again.”

“...Dami? I’m in a little bit of a hurry here, but—whoa! Holy shit. I was wondering if you’d want to come to my graduation ceremony in Bludhaven next week? It’s, uh—fuck!—it would mean a lot to me if you were able to make it. I’m salutatorian. So no speeches but I’ll still look cool. Motherbitcher on a stick, I—tell me if you’re gonna come, alri—AHHHHHHHHHHH! You fucker, that hurts, I—why do I feel… dizzy…?”

“Hey! This is Duke, I can’t get to the phone right now, but don’t worry, I’m sure I’m fine. If it’s urgent, though, leave a message after the beep! ...Wait, does it beep?”

“Thomas, you imbecile, of course it beeps. You need to answer me and tell me where you are. I—I will try again.”

“Hey! This is Duke, I can’t get to the phone right now, but don’t worry, I’m sure I’m fine. If it’s urgent, though, leave a message after the beep! ...Wait, does it beep?”

“Answer me, where are you? Did you get yourself in trouble? Stupid, idiotic Thomas, why are you calling me on patrol?”

“Hey! This is Duke, I can’t get to the phone right now, but don’t worry, I’m sure I’m fine. If it’s urgent, though, leave a message after the beep! ...Wait, does it beep?”

“...Duke? I will come to your graduation ceremony. I would—I would love to see you again. Please be alright.”

“Hey! This is Duke, I can’t get to the phone right now, but don’t worry, I’m sure I’m fine. If it’s urgent, though, leave a message after the beep! ...Wait, does it beep?”

“Duke! I’m on my way. Please be alright, please be alright. If you die, I will hunt you down and throw you in a Pit, and the Pits are not to be trifled with. There’s no telling what you’ll come back like. But I… hey, watch where you’re going!”

“Hey! This is Duke, I can’t get to the phone right now, but don’t worry, I’m sure I’m fine. If it’s urgent, though, leave a message after the beep! ...Wait, does it beep?”

“I’ve talked with Father. Isn’t that what you wanted? This is a terrible way to go about it. He has a tracker on you and I’m headed to your coordinates. Please be alright. I’ll… see you when I see you.”

“Hey! This is Duke, I can’t get to the phone right now, but don’t worry, I’m sure I’m fine. If it’s urgent, though, leave a message after the beep! ...Wait, does it beep?”

“Duke Thomas, you are a colossal dumbass. But I wanted to talk to you. Doctor Thompkins is checking you over, I’m trying to avoid Father and my replacement. I… I hope you’ll be alright. You’ve paled and you’ve lost a lot of blood, but Doctor Thompkins believes you’re salvageable. You’ll be okay.

“I didn’t get to finish my message, one of the earlier ones, I just realized. If you don’t make it out of this… I will hunt down an unused Pit for you, no matter the risks. Don’t you dare say you’re not part of this family, because that isn’t true in the slightest. You are my brother. I’ve been neglecting my duties as the elder brother. I—I promise to remedy that when you awake.

“Please be alright.”

-

“I got my phone back,” Duke says to Damian. Damian’s eyes are closed, as if he fell asleep, but his shoulders are tense.

Damian’s eyes flutter open. The green pierces through Duke’s chest, they’re nothing like what he remembers. He knows all too well he can scarcely remember his mother’s real laugh anymore. What if one day he forgets Damian’s brown eyes as well?

“I heard your message. Would you really…?”

Damian crosses his arms. “I meant every word.”

Duke grins, holding out his arms. “Hug?”

Damian accepts, gently embracing Duke. “Moron.”

A tear runs down Duke’s face, but it’s warm and filled with hope for the future. Their future. “That’s what brothers are for.”

-

“Tt,” Damian says, his voice modulated coming from underneath the helmet. “You seem to be doing alright with everyone living in the Manor. I am not needed.”

Duke frowns and revs his motorcycle. Damian lost his in the warehouse explosion, so Duke’s giving him a ride to the Batmobile. They’ll steal it, just like when they were kids. “You can’t hoist the oldest child responsibilities onto me, that’s not how this works. We share it, remember? Also, we all miss you. Lark,”—now Tim, after Damian made the attempt on his life, but Duke’s positive that Tim is inventing his own mantle now—“would be a little testy about it, but he really admired you, y’know. That’s why he took your name and not mine.”

They enter the Narrows, the grimy apartments and alleyways familiar, but they really have gotten better in the past decade or so. Duke still has an apartment in Blüdhaven, but he’s been going back and forth between both cities pretty frequently.

Gotham is his home. He can’t stay away long.

“I still haven’t properly apologized—” Damian cuts himself off. Duke turns towards where the Batmobile is parked, squinting to see what’s captured Damian’s attention.

A small boy, who couldn’t be more than thirteen, drops a huge Batmobile tire and runs.

Damian chases after him, with Duke close behind. “You gotta admit,” he says to Damian with a grin, “the kid’s got guts. Jacking tires from the Batmobile?”

They slow down as they find the kid, and share a look. The kid may have guts, but to even try must mean he’s desperate.

“Hey!” Duke calls, his bright as hell Signal outfit probably more inviting than Damian’s whole shtick, especially with the sword sheathed at Damian’s side. He turns on a little penlight attached to his keyring. “Hey, we don’t want to hurt you. How about we go out to eat?”

-

“Hey, Dickhead!” Jason yells up at the ceiling. Duke cranes his neck to see, and… yeah, Dick’s on the chandelier again. It shakes, the light scattering and dancing across the room.

Damian is sitting at the table, sipping at his jasmine tea. “Jason,” he sharply reprimands.

Jason’s tiny nose scrunches up. “Sorry, Mom.”

Without missing a beat, Damian asks in a tone quiet enough for only Duke to hear, “Do you ever miss when it was only us two?”

“Always,” Duke responds. “But I wouldn’t give up any of… this family for the world.”

And maybe they’re a little broken, but they’re trying to rebuild. Duke isn’t Damian’s light anymore, nor is Damian a shadow, or another light, or anything his younger self's mind could have dreamed of. They’re people. Living, breathing people who try their best, and it’s more of a partnered relationship than anything.

They help each other. They stick by each other’s sides and they learn, and they grow, and they find that they’re more alike than they think.

Maybe they’re not alright. But that’s alright. They’re trying.

“Besides,” Duke says after a brief pause, “it wasn’t nearly as funny when it was only me driving you up a wall.”

Damian snorts at that and elbows him.

And everything seems right in the world.

Also read and comment on AO3!

[wordsfromthesol]

Replacement (1/2)

Author: @wordsfromthesol​ Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Warnings: Language, violence Word Count: 2.2k Requested: @beebosclique​ A/N: Thanks for the request because I’ve been on a real Tim Drake kick lately. Which is probably why this story is so long (not sorry). Also (not) sorry for reusing superhero names in my stories…I’ve only come up with like 2 that I like. Also also, thanks for the love 💛💛

Part Two

You had no real memories of your life at the circus, you were only three years old when Bruce Wayne took you in. He and Dick were the only family you knew, well until Jason came into the picture. Jason, unlike Dick, realized that you could take care of yourself. In fact, Jason often sparred with you and secretly taught you as Bruce and Dick taught him. When he died you begged to take over the Robin mantle. You knew there needed to be one, Bruce would go too far, you were even worried Dick would go to far. Tim becoming Robin was the final punch in the gut you needed. They would never allow you to be in the family business, no matter how prepared for it you were. The day Tim passed the gauntlet was the same day you finished your costume. That day Eclipse was born and she quickly made a name for herself, all while avoiding Tim Drake, both at home and in the field.

Jason returned and the Robin mantle got passed once again. You didn’t even ask for it this time. Your silence is what led Jason to discovering your secret identity. You had to admit, it was nice to finally have someone to talk to about it, someone to patch you up if you ever got too injured.

**

“Y/N/N, I don’t get why you won’t just tell them.”

“Because Dick would murder me. He wouldn’t let me be Robin, you think he would be okay with me going out there solo?”

“Yeah, but it would make my life way easier, especially when you need your shoulder reset.” Jason shook his head and mumbled, “can’t believe you waited until morning to come to me.”

“You know if you tell him, he’ll kill you.”

“Hm, well I’ve tried that. Didn’t like it too much, so I guess I’m stuck.”

You nodded at Jason, bracing yourself for the pain. “Shit…” you mumbled as you felt the joint jolt back into place.

��You do remember that I’m your older brother too, right? I don’t like you going out by yourself either.”

“Yes and I have you on speed dial every time I’m out there.” You sighed, trying to give him some reassurance. “Plus…if my vitals drop below a certain point, my suit automatically sends a message straight to Dick and Bruce explaining everything. I can’t override it.”

“Still doesn’t make me feel great, especially since you probably have the settings set to when you’re dead.” You just stuck your tongue out in response. “So I didn’t hear Tim or Damian on that list…”

“Well, I barely know the demon brat. It’s been like a year since he stumbled into our lives, plus he’s a child.”

“Fair enough. You know you can’t blame Tim.”

“I’m not…blaming.”

Jason threw his hands up in defense, “If you say so.” Jason peripheral vision caught Tim’s figure and a smirk grew on his face. “Hey Timbers!” He shouted as you whipped around, hoping Jason was just joking. He wasn’t. “Y/N here could use a sparring partner. Someone to teach her the ropes.” You looked back at Jason, an angry glare in your eyes.

“She…uh…she wants me to teach her…?”

“Well I would love to Timbo, but I promised…uh…Dick that I would help him out.” Tim eyebrow’s shot up, clearly not believing his brother’s lies, before he turned towards you looking for clarification.

“That would be great Tim.” You gritted through your teeth, trying not to sound sarcastic. “Let me just go change.” You shot daggers back at Jason before scampering off. Tim waited until you faded from view before speaking again.

“You know she hates me, right Jay?”

“She doesn’t hate you. She hates what you took from her.”

“I didn’t take anything of hers.” Jason looked at his brother, solemnly.

“Tim. This…” Jason gestured around him, “has been her whole life. Don’t you think she wanted to be Robin? To prove that she belonged in this family.” Jason quickly dropped the serious demeanor. He was never very good at it anyways. “I think once she sees the real you, not the Robin you. She’ll come around replacement!” Jason’s eye caught you in the doorway. He jogged up next to you, “Remember to see past Robin.” He winked at you before leaving the two of you alone.

“Well that was weird.” Tim commented, gesturing you towards him.

“Eh. Jay only pretends not to care about family.” You brushed off the comment as you took your stance.

**

Hours went by, and your shoulder was well beyond it’s limit…something Tim noticed and used to pin you down one final time.

“Alright, I think you’re done.” He clamored as he held out a hand to help you up. A hand which you denied. “What did you do to your shoulder anyways? Need me to look at it?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” You swatted his hand away.

“Y/N/N!” You heard Dick’s voice in the distance.

“Don’t tell him anything.” You mumbled to Tim, before turning to greet your brother. “Dickie! Tim was just showing me some new moves.”

Dick stopped at your side, “Tim…you let Tim teach you?” Even Dick was in disbelief. You just shrugged, not offering a response. “Well I was looking for you to let you know I took the night off! I don’t have to leave after dinner.”

“Ohh…” You stammered, “I…uh…I have plans. With Ellen. Mo…movies.”

“Awe, can’t you cancel? I need time with my little sister.”

“I…I so would. But she’s going through this tough time. Her, uh, her boyfriend just broke up with her and…I just I need to be there.”

“Fine,” Dick whined out. “But we’re still on for the diner, right?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.” You pressed a kiss to Dick’s cheek before running out of the room. You were never good at lying to your brother and thankfully, due to his nightly activities, you rarely had to. Grabbing your phone, you quickly sent Ellen a text, just in case Dick decided to fact check you. Only it wasn’t Dick you needed to worry about. Dick would never believe that his baby sister was lying to him, Tim on the other hand witnessed the entire train wreck.

“I got a case to work on…” Tim gestured towards the computer before leaving Dick standing in the training room alone. Tim went back and forth in his mind, but ultimately decided he would check your phone just in case you were in trouble. That’s when he saw the text message. The one you just sent to Ellen.

Hey girl, used you as a lie to Dick. If he asks we are going to the movies and you just broke up with your boyfriend.

Man you really didn’t want to hang out with your brother tonight.

Yeah, well I already had plans and didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!

That doesn’t say much…

😜😜

**

You were finally able to ditch your brother and were posted on a rooftop, just outside a supposed new drug den.

“What are we looking at?” The sudden voice made you jump. You quickly regained composure, striking a defensive stance. “Relax…” Red Robin came out of the shadows, “I only want to help.”

You huffed at the sight but attempted to contain your discontent, “You don’t normally patrol tonight.”

“Just wanted to keep the criminals on their toes.”

“I’m sure they’re shaking in their boots…to answer your question, I think it’s a new drug den. Followed someone here a few days ago.”

“Well, why aren’t we moving on it?”

“I’m waiting for someone.”

“And that would be…?”

“Someone who still has a choice. If you’re staying, I’m on channel 3.” You commented before dropping into the alley below. Red Robin moved to follow but stopped once he heard your voice come through his comm. “Stay there. We move when I say.” He looked down watching you corner someone.

“Jake.” You calmly called out towards the man. He spun around, realizing he was now stuck in the alley. “What are you doing here?”

“I just…I need money. My baby girl…I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice. I’m about to give you another one.”

“I can’t –” You cut him off.

“I’m not asking for anything regarding those idiots.” You gestured towards the drug den. “This is a choice for you. You can leave right now and trust that I’m going to help you. Or you can go in there and warn them that I’m coming. Maybe they’ll overpower me and maybe you’ll be rewarded for the tip. But think about the life that that leads to. You’re better than that life.”

“How…how would you know that?”

“Because I saw the desperation in your eyes a few nights ago. Then I did some digging. That was your first deal.”

“My daughter.”

“I always thought I never had a choice. I was groomed for this life and then it was held just beyond my reach. I was stuck until I made a different path for myself. Now I try to give that opportunity to others. People who thought they had run out of options.”

Tim was stuck in a trance as he watched this Jake character run the opposite way of the drug den. Eclipse was you; you had just made that painfully obvious. Though he wondered if you intended that or if your mind was set on helping Jake.  Suddenly he was shaken from his mental state as your voice came over his comm yet again. “I’m going in the back door. Meet me there if you still want to help.”

You didn’t wait for his response, but noticed a shadowy figure following just above you. The two of you got to the door at the same time, Red Robin spoke first. “I’ll take left.” Tim wanted your sore shoulder exposed as little as possible.

**

“Your shoulder looks pretty bad…”

“It’ll be fine.” You tried to ignore the searing pain as the two of your waited for the police to come round up all the men.

“Do you want me to take a look?”

“No.”

“Do you at least want some high strength pain killers? I can bring some by –”

“Why are you insistent on helping?”

Red Robin shrugged, “Guess us vigilantes gotta stick together.”

“Right. I’m more of a solo gig kinda vigilante.” You saw a smirk graze his face as you heard the sirens approaching. “And that’s my queue.” You gestured towards the sound and bounded out the door. This is Tim. Tim Drake. He stole Robin from you. The words resonated through your head as you tried to forget tonight. It felt different. Or maybe Jason was right…

Once you got to your secret apartment, you showered and attempted a self-evaluation on your shoulder. You jumped upon hearing the sound of tapping against the glass. Shit. You raced into the bedroom, grabbing your discarded mask and throwing it on before sauntering into the living room.

“What do you want?” You questioned Red Robin’s presence as you opened the window.

“Thought you might want these.” He said, tossing you a bottle of pills. “Also, it would probably help if you wear this for a couple days.” Tim held out a sling.

“Yeah, can’t do that.”

“Hm. It’ll take twice as long to heal if you don’t.” He walked over, inspecting the bruising already forming on your shoulder. “This definitely didn’t happen tonight.”

“It was reset this morning.” You glanced at the time, 3:20am, “Well I guess yesterday morning. It’ll be fine.”

“Alright alright,” Tim held up his hands in defense before reaching into one of his pockets. “Well I know you’re a solo vigilante and all…but if you need me.” Tim placed a card and sling in your hand. Before you could respond he was out the window.

You decided it was probably best to wear the sling. Now all you needed was a lie for why you weren’t staying at the Manor.

**

It had only been a few hours before you woke up clouded in smoke. A fire raged around you. Maybe Tim wasn’t the only one who had followed you home. You shot up, immediately donning your mask and throwing your suit into a nearby duffel bag. Running around, you attempted to start collecting your equipment and paper trails as your phone dialed Jason. No answer. You then tried the comm in your mask, no answer. Shit. I’m going to have to call Tim.

“Eclipse?” The voice sounded groggy on the other end.

“Yeah so…I may be in some trouble.”

“Shit. Your apartment?”

“Yeah.” You jumped out of the way as the kitchen beam collapsed.

“What was that?!”

“Just…let me know when you’re here.”

You ignored his plea to stay on the line and focused on fastening everything to your body. This is going to hurt. You freed your arm from the sling and stepped onto the window ledge. Unfortunately, you were right. Tim was not the only person to follow you tonight, and this person wanted you dead. They were waiting for you to leap from that window. You didn’t even make it to the pavement before you heard the gun fire.

[thegizka]

Order and Control

Writer’s Month 2020 Day 2:  Quarantine

When Bruce is exposed to a dangerous virus, he quarantines to prevent further spread until the Justice League can develop an antidote. Unfortunately, his children keep ignoring his orders.

Read it on Ao3.

Note: I do not own any aspect of DC or Batman.

Bruce waited until the lock on the hidden door clicked behind him before turning on any lights.  This safehouse was unlikely to be discovered, carved into the mountains of Montana with no one in a hundred mile radius, but now was no time to be lax in security.  He moved through the small kitchen and sitting area, bypassed the bed, and tapped a pattern on the stone wall to open an access panel.  After entering the correct security codes, the wall folded away to reveal a secret room housing a computer and an assortment of equipment that might be useful in a pinch.  Someone had left an empty bag of chips in the bin beneath the computer desk.  He made a mental note to remind his children of the importance of discarding all traces of themselves when leaving safehouses.

A few minutes later, he’d turned on the computer and connected to his network.  Bouncing his signal around the globe to discourage tracking, he sent a message to the Watchtower.  A second later, Clark appeared in a video feed.

“I take it you made it safely?”

“I’m here,” Bruce grunted.  “Were you able to find any trace of this thing?”

“Barry and Victor are still in the lab analyzing the samples you sent.  They haven’t found anything yet.”

“How are you feeling?” Diana asked, leaning into the frame.

“Fine so far.”

“You should have come back to the Watchtower.  The investigation would move faster if we could monitor you more closely.”

“We all saw the bodies,” he growled.  “Minimizing exposure is the priority.  If we can stop these bioterrorists before they release this virus, we won’t need a vaccine.”

“You need it.”  Clark frowned.  Bruce knew he agreed with Diana and would prefer Bruce isolate closer to people who could care for him.

“I will run what tests I can here and link them to the Watchtower.  I trust Barry and Victor will find the solution.”

“Do you need anything?” Diana asked.  “We can be there in a heartbeat.”

“No,” he said emphatically.  “Don’t.  And don’t tell anyone where I am.  No one can know.”

Clark and Diana exchanged a look that said they didn’t agree with him about this either.  But they had seen the horrors this virus had done to these bioterrorists’ test subjects.  They knew it was too dangerous to risk.

“We won’t,” Diana promised.

“Stay safe, Bruce.”

“You too.”

The video went blank.  Bruce sat in the silence of the safehouse for a moment.  He had stared at his own death so many times that he wasn’t scared for himself.  He was just frustrated that he couldn’t be on the front lines with the rest of the Justice League.  He had been foolish to investigate alone, stumbling onto the test site and inhaling the virus from a partially-empty canister.  He should have been more careful.

With a sigh, he hauled himself to his feet and began preparing the science equipment that he had at his disposal.  He’d already shed his suit and secured it in an impermeable bag.  He would set up a secure, sanitized lab space and swab it for residue, though so far the only traces they’d detected had been found in biomatter.  He would take frequent blood and breath samples, both to monitor his condition and try to isolate the strain for vaccine fabrication.

There were a lot of tests to run.  It would be a long night.

-----

Bruce awoke late in the morning noticing two alarming things.  The first was that his throat felt sore.  It wasn’t a sign of dehydration.  He had been careful to drink plenty of fluids to help his body remain strong as it fought against the virus.  The second was a vehicle pulling into the hidden garage and killing its engine.

He scrambled to the computer to pull up the security camera.  The fact that someone had found the entrance and not set off any alarms meant it was someone who knew this safehouse.  It was probably one of his kids.

Sure enough, he saw a mop of familiar dark hair emerge from a compact sports car.  A shorter, crisper head of hair jumped out of the passenger seat.  A jolt of fear chilled Bruce’s spine, accompanied by a waterfall of questions.  Had they touched the Batmobile parked next to them?  Had he brushed against the walls on his way to the entrance last night?  Had he remembered to disinfect the door?

“Dick, Damian, don’t move,” he called through the comm system he’d had installed three years ago.  He saw them stop.  Bless them for having the sense to listen.

“Father, what is going on?”

“You shouldn’t be here.  Go back to Gotham,” he ordered.

“B, are you okay?”  Dick took a step forward, and the panic spiked again.

“I am.  I’m just busy.  I need you to watch Gotham for a few days.”

“Are you working on the bioterrorism case?” Damian demanded.  He shouldn’t have known about that.

“Vic told us you may have been exposed,” Dick explained.  “Babs got a ping of activity from this safehouse last night, so we came to see if you were okay.”

His eldest son always did have a bleeding heart.  He let his emotions override his good sense.

“If I have been exposed, that’s reason for you to leave.  I can’t spread it to anyone else.”

“If you are in danger, Father, we should help you.”

“You can help by keeping watch over Gotham until this is over.”

“But-”

“Come on, Damian.”  Dick took his brother’s shoulder gently.  “There’s nothing we can do here right now.”

The youngest Wayne resisted for a moment.  Bruce saw so much of his own stubbornness in him.

“Be safe, Father,” he ordered before turning back to the car.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, B,” Dick called.

“Take care of them, Dick.  I’ll be back soon.”

A modicum of relief returned when he watched them drive away, but he couldn’t shake the unease their arrival had caused.  He was surprised they’d found him so quickly.  It was a little upsetting that Cyborg felt more loyalty for his former Titans teammate than the Justice League, but Dick had that sort of magnetic pull.  Bruce felt guilty for forcing his eldest into the responsibility of Batman’s duties and watching over his siblings, but it couldn’t be helped.  He just hoped he could keep the rest of them away and safe.

He reached for a glass of water to try and soothe his throat.  A basic medical check revealed no fever and an average heart rate.  He pricked his finger for a blood sample.  He hadn’t found anything decipherable from the tests he ran last night, perhaps because the virus had been too new in his body.  Hopefully today’s efforts would be more fruitful.  He popped a lemon cough drop into his mouth and got to work.

-----

Late that night, the purr of two motorcycle engines signalled new visitors.  Bruce was still awake, pouring over data from the case and taking notes on the progression of his infection.  Most of the potential side effects could be attributed to the strain of his night life, but until they had a better understanding of this virus, he was meticulous in his documentation.

The security feed revealed Jason and Stephanie parking their bikes near the garage wall.  They must have spoken with Dick because they wore respirators and chemical-repellant suits.  Jason had towed in a trailer piled up with equipment of some sort, indicating they intended to be there for a while.  The chill of panic returned.  This was not good.

“You two need to leave,” he ordered using the comms.  His sore throat and lack of conversation made his voice sound hoarse.  He reached for his water.

“Hey Bruce, you don’t sound so good.  Are you doing okay?” Stephanie asked in concern.

“I’m fine,” he insisted.  To support his claim, his voice came through more clearly.  “I’d be better if you both left.”

“No can do,” Jason grunted, lifting a stack of tarps sealed in plastic out of the trailer.  “We’re under orders from Alfred to make sure you don’t die.  We’re not going anywhere.”

“Yes you are,” he insisted, starting to feel helpless.  They couldn’t be here.  The risk was too great.  “I am ordering you to leave.”

“Too bad, Old Man.  I stopped following your orders years ago, and Stephie ain’t your kid or your Robin.  Your orders mean nothing to us.”

“Alfred’s, however,” Stephanie interjected, “sure do.  But don’t worry; he gave us very specific instructions on how to disinfect everything and keep you safely quarantined while we help.  You’ll be in good hands.”

He didn’t need to be in good hands; they did, and them being here was not safe.  But they had obviously come with the intention of staying, and they were more likely to ignore him than his other kids.  He wanted to argue, but he had to turn away to cough.  His throat felt raw, and it took him a while to regain his breath.  By the time he looked back at the garage feed, they had finished unloading and were going about Alfred’s instruction.

“Please,” he croaked in a final effort to discourage them, “just leave.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Stephanie asked, ignoring his plea.

“Save your strength Old Man.  We’re not going anywhere.”

Bruce sighed.  He didn’t have the energy to argue with them.  At least they were taking safety precautions.  They pulled one of the tarps over the Batmobile and sealed the edge to the garage floor with tape.  Jason started constructing a portable sanitizing chamber right in front of the door while Stephanie grabbed cleaning materials and went about fumigating every exposed surface.

“Make sure you ventilate properly,” Bruce instructed.  She raised a hand in a thumb’s up to acknowledge his advice but didn’t pause her work.

“Hey Bruce,” Jason said, laying tarps over the framework and sealing them tightly, “Dick seems to think this is pretty bad.  Is it?”

“You’d be more helpful working with the League to find the source, not here.”

“You never do answer our questions,” he grumbled.  “That’s only going to make them worry more, you know.”

Bruce noticed that he’d said “them”, and it stung a little that Jason had omitted himself.  He wondered if he had ever felt like part of the family, or if Bruce’s cascading screw-ups as a mentor and father had driven him away.  Even now, he had no idea how to connect with him.

“Get some rest, Old Man,” Jason said, sorting through filtration hoses to hook up the sanitizing system in the chamber.  “Steph and I don’t need you supervising if you’re not going to help.”

Bruce couldn’t think of anything to say, so he turned back to analyzing the data from the case.  He kept the security feed up in the corner of the computer screen so he could check on them while he worked.  There was some comfort in that.

-----

He awoke the next morning disoriented.  His throat burned, and his breath felt slow to fill his lungs.  He was fairly certain he had fallen asleep at the computer in the safehouse, but the conversation he was hearing was reminiscent of days in the Manor.

“Sleep.”

“He has to get up at some time, Cass.  Otherwise the food Jason made will go to waste.”

“And I need to ask him some questions about this data.”

“Tim, have you heard anything else from Leslie?”

“No.”

“So even the doc is stumped.”

“She has assured me that the best resources will be allocated to our mission.  Pennyworth will contact us as soon as progress is made.”

“Vic is monitoring her research, too.  He’ll let us know if the League comes up with anything.”

“It’s kind of nice having a friend in the League.  We used to have to hack the Watchtower to get their data.”

“The old man would have a conniption if he knew.”

“Security breeeach,” Tim growled in a Batman parody voice.

“Con-nip?  Shun?”

“One word.  It’s basically a tantrum,” Barbara translated automatically.

“Don’t worry about learning it, Cain.  Todd is the only one who speaks with such outdated language.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard you call your wallet a pocket book the other day, so maybe rethink that statement.”

Bruce sat up slowly.  His limbs felt heavy, and both feet tingled from a lack of oxygen.  He could tell this wasn’t normal fatigue.  He’d pushed his body to its natural breaking point often enough to feel the difference.  He felt as though he were barely in control of himself.

“Hey guys, it looks like Sleeping Beauty is awake,” Barbara called.  “Hi Bruce.”

A chorus of voices and a jumble of words penetrated the ringing in his ears.  There was a new video feed on his computer.  Glancing at the security feed, he saw that someone had set up a sort of control center in the garage.  Wires criss-crossed between the monitors and blinking machines, disappearing into carefully concealed access points in the floor and wall.  Tim and Barbara were camped in the center of it all, but everyone crowded together when they heard he was awake.

“How are you feeling B?” Dick asked.  He and Damian had returned, bringing Cassandra, Tim, and Barbara with them.  The growing number of people camping in the garage was perplexing, especially when he wanted everyone to stay away for their safety.

He tried to say he was fine, but his voice wouldn’t work.  He devolved into a coughing fit.  It took a good minute to catch his breath afterwards.  He wished he didn’t have to see the looks of worry on their faces.

“There’s a nebulizer outside the door in the sanitizing chamber.  Leslie provided some medicine that might help,” Tim said.

“Jason made some soup, too,” Stephanie added.

“Alfred’s worried about you living on whatever freeze-dried nonperishable shit you have in there.”

“Language, Todd.”

“Can you get up, or should I bring it to you?” Barbara asked.

“No,” Bruce croaked, the panic oozing through him.

“Relax Bruce, we have a robot we can send in,” Tim reassured him.  “We won’t get anywhere near you.”

“We have thought of everything, Father.  Do not resist this care.”

Barbara tapped a few keys on her keyboard, and Bruce heard the lock on the door slide.  A moment later, the mechanical whirring of wheels grew gradually louder.  A multi-tiered platform rolled into the room.  A sealed bowl of soup sat on one shelf, the condensation on the lid indicating it had been packaged some time ago.  Someone had placed a few bottles of water next to it.  A portable nebulizer sat below it with a bag of medication and supplements from Leslie’s clinic.

“You should let me drive that sometime,” Stephanie whispered to Tim as the robot came to a stop.  The lock on the door clicked back into place in the other room.

“When you get a chance,” Tim said, “I have a few questions about the data you gathered from the test site.”

“Hang on there, Timmy.  The guy just woke up.  Let him eat his soup in peace.”

“This is a time-sensitive issue, Todd.  The sooner we get information, the sooner we can stop these terrorists and help Father.”

“Eat, then questions,” Cassandra insisted.

“I agree,” Dick declared.  Bruce could see the intention to argue further leave his siblings.  Did he know how influential he was over them?  “The League and half of our contacts are working on this.  We can spare twenty minutes to let Bruce eat in peace.”

“It’s time for patrol anyway,” Jason announced, pushing himself away from the crowd.  “Demon Spawn, you’re coming with me.  All this motor traffic may have caused some curiosity and suspicion.”

“From what?  Mountain goats?” he scoffed, but he followed Jason out of the garage.  Bruce was surprised he hadn’t commented on the nickname.

“Clean plate club,” Cassandra said, looking straight at Bruce through the camera.  She was serious enough to make him chuckle, but his throat couldn’t muster the sound.  She followed her brothers out to patrol.

“I’m going to see if I can boost our signal now that there are seventeen machines trying to use our network,” Tim announced.  “Want to help me, Steph?”

“Sure.”  She skipped to catch up with him as he headed for the exit.

“No making out until you’re done,” Barbara called.  “I want to see results!”

“You’re one to talk,” Stephanie teased before she and Tim disappeared.

That just left Dick and Barbara, the original Robin and Batgirl.  Bruce opened the soup under their watchful eyes, moving carefully with his slow limbs.  He knew they were waiting for him to say something, but they also knew to give him time.  He didn’t mind their scrutiny as he sipped his soup, unable to handle more than little gulps with his sore throat and labored breaths.  They would read into every movement he made to extrapolate how far the virus had progressed.  Bruce wondered how much they had shared with the others.

“Gotham?” he whispered when the soup had soothed enough of his throat to give him a voice.

“Duke, Kate, Luke, and Harper are taking care of things.  Alfred is coordinating from the Batcave.  Dick reached out to Zatanna, and she’ll be around for backup.  Everything’s under control.”

“You, on the other hand, have definitely looked better.”  Concern was written all over Dick’s face.

“Have we found them yet?” he deflected, always dodging questions, always hiding behind the mask.

“The League has narrowed the attack down to three targets,” Dick shared.  “They’re en route to stop it as we speak.”

“DC, Moscow, Shanghai,” Barbara listed, anticipating his follow-up question.  She always was sharp.  “A strike force already went to their base in the Canadian Rockies and cleared it out.  This should all be over in an hour.”

So the end was in sight.  No wonder everyone was so tense and had sought things to do while they waited.  No wonder they had gathered together since they couldn’t be part of the counterstrike.  He set down his spoon and focused on his breathing.  He’d never been good at waiting on the sidelines either.  His nonexistent appetite was gone.

“The comms,” he wheezed, reaching for the keyboard.

“No,” Barbara replied, her fingers typing some sequence that locked everything on his computer except the video feed.  “You have to keep your heart rate steady.  Any excitement will spread the virus faster.”

“There’s nothing you can do, B.  Let the others handle it.”

He knew they were right, but he hated not knowing what was going on.  He hated not having any control over it.  He had never been good at relinquishing control, and now he had no choice.  His body wasn’t responding the way it should, and his children had ignored every order to stay away.  His control was falling apart.

“Hey,” Barbara said, pulling his mind back to the present, “don’t keep that spoon idle.  You don’t want to disappoint Cass.”

Bruce obeyed and brought the spoon to his mouth, letting the soup trickle down his throat without tasting it.

“Antidote?”  He didn’t trust his heavy tongue to form a full sentence coherently.

“Last we heard, they were analyzing an active sample to make sure they didn’t miss anything.  They should have it done soon.”

“Leslie was a big help,” Dick said.  “Tim sent her your tests and notes because, and I quote, ‘Barry is great but he usually works with dead bodies, and I’d like the expertise of someone who works on keeping them alive’.  It was a good call.”

Bruce tried to chuckle again, but instead he coughed.  With the stiffness of his lungs and muscles, he was left gasping for oxygen.  His body wasn’t working right.  He coughed again, and coughed and coughed and coughed.  He heard Dick and Barbara calling to him through the monitor but he couldn’t stop coughing.  He couldn’t get oxygen fast enough.  His vision blurred, and the ringing in his ears grew louder, or maybe it was the shouting?  He couldn’t tell anymore.  It was just pain and coughing until his diaphragm ceased up and he couldn’t breathe.  He couldn’t breathe.  This was how it would end.

He couldn’t breathe.

He could only pray his kids wouldn’t enter the room and get infected.

Everything went dark.

-----

Bruce came to with the disorienting feeling that he shouldn’t.  His throat felt raw and his limbs felt heavy, but he could swallow and move.  His body was tired, but his lungs filled with air without hesitation.  His heart was beating.  He had control.

He opened his eyes slowly.  He was still in the Montana safehouse.  Somehow he had been moved to the bed.  He could hear the soft hums and beeps of medical equipment, as well as a low murmur of voices.  The smell of cooking reached his nose.  He was hungry.

Bruce carefully sat up so he could get a better look around.  A pile of portable cots and sleeping bags had turned up in a corner.  So had a rather large TV on which Dick and Damian were currently playing Cheese Viking.  Tim was on his laptop on the couch, and Stephanie leaned against him, napping quietly.  Barbara and Cassandra were at the table working on some language exercises.  Jason and Duke were working in the kitchen under the careful guidance of Alfred.  It seemed impossible to fit so many people in the small safehouse, yet here they were.

Ever vigilant, Alfred turned as though sensing the movement of his patient.

“Ah, Master Bruce, you are awake.”

“Hey, looking good Bruce,” Duke greeted, waving a wooden spoon.

“Well what do you know,” Jason said, stepping away from the stove to get a better look at him.  “You came through faster than I was expecting.”

“That stir fry needs your attention, Master Jason.  The rest of you, occupy yourselves while I look him over.  You’ll have a chance to say all you want over dinner.”

With minimal grumbling, everyone returned to what they had been doing.  Alfred’s word was law, even when they had outgrown taking orders from Batman and Bruce Wayne.

“How do you feel, sir?” the butler asked, checking some readings on the monitor next to the bed and proceeding through the routine of a medical check.

“Alive,” he rasped.  “What happened?”

“Mr. Allen and Mr. Stone were able to fabricate a cure.  It was en route to you when you collapsed and arrived just in the nick of time.  Of course, the others had all rushed to your aid and exposed themselves before then, so you’ve all been ordered to quarantine for a few weeks to monitor your recovery and eliminate any chance of further spread.”

“The bioterrorists?”

“Successfully thwarted and captured.  Once again, the Justice League saves the day.”

“It’s over,” he sighed, relaxing against the wall.  Alfred gave him a wry look.

“For the rest of the world, yes.  For you, it’s only just started.  Your body must recover from the toxins, and on top of that, you have eight very strong, very different personalities to live with in a small space.  I expect it will be a bit challenging for you.”

Bruce looked around at everyone.  The teasing and familial bickering were already on display.  No matter how many times he told them to behave, they still got up to mischief.

“Like herding cats,” he sighed.  Alfred chuckled.

“More like herding bats, sir.”

[nxrthmizu]

-Lordbug, Robin, and Kitty Noir- Chapter One: ‘In Which Damian Saves The Day In A Spotted Spandex’

/Part One//Part Two//Part Three//Part Four//Part Five//Part Six//Part Seven//Part Eight//Part Nine//Part Ten//Part Eleven/

---

Description: Daminette AU in which Damian has the Ladybug/Lordbug miraculous by accident but he has to keep being Robin too so he switches between the two and of course the Marinette x Black Cat that we’ve all needed

Warnings: Mild but censored cursing

---

“I’m going to be late for school!” Marinette blubbered as she gathered her things chaotically, shoving them into her backpack clumsily. “Bye mama, papa!” 

“Bye sweetie, see you after school!” Sabine calls out with a laugh as her bumbling daughter races out the door in hurry, her pigtails flying the air as she dashed to school. 

---

“I do not understand why I have to school in Paris!” Damian protested angrily. “I do not wish to be among idiots who barely speak English!” 

“But you speak French.” Dick pointed out with a chuckle. “You can communicate via French.” 

“I want to stay in Gotham as Robin!” Damian growled, glaring at his father, who only shrugged. 

“Look, it’s only this or the Teen Titans, and seeing as you already don't agree with them, the only other choice is to go with Alfred’s old master.” Bruce told him monotonously, stating that it was the end of the argument. 

Alfred noted neutrally. “I am sure that Master Fu would be delighted to have you, Master Wayne.” 

Growling angrily at his defeat in the argument, Damian stormed off into his room, refusing to speak to his father before his flight to Paris. 

---

After landing in Paris, Damian realized that no, he didn't dislike the city, he hated it. The city of love and romance- Ironic, seeing as he hated love and romance and had no intention of getting acquainted with anyone at all. Upon getting off the plane, Damian decided that he was going to be worse little shit he could be- He’d be so bad that Alfred’s ‘Master Fu’ would send him home within two weeks. Smirking with his plan in mind, Damian forced a smile, catching a cab to ‘Master Fu’s massage shop. 

---

“Damian! You have finally arrived.” Master Fu greeted with a smile. “Your bedroom is upstairs, left to the stairs.” A green ‘fairy’ that Alfred had told him mildly about greeted him cheerily. 

“Hello! I’m Wayzz.” The ‘kwami’ as Alfred had called it- Smiled at him. “I’ll show you to your room.” 

Damian rolled his eyes, having seen enough of astonishing sights to not even flinch at the sight of the weird-looking turtle. 

---

Marinette was angry. So, that blonde boy- Adrien Agreste- Was trying to put gum on her seat?! And he was friends with Chloe? Chloe had friends? Brushing the angry though away, Marinette sighed as she began to stroll home, but not before she saw an old man attempting to cross a four-lane road. 

Rushing forward to help him (Because that’s what nice people do) she aided him across the road, smiling as she did so. However, in her kind act, her bag- Which she had left unzipped- Poured out its contents chaotically, making the girl shriek in panic. She apologized swiftly and picked up the spilled contents of her bag, not noticing when he sneaked a little hexagonal box into her bag, watching her as she scurried away.  

---

“So, you’re a Kwami, huh?” Damian asked, scoffing at the green turtle. 

Wayzz raised an eyebrow at this. “I wonder why Master took you in if he knew you were going to be this rude.” 

Damian scoffed, clearly annoyed. “As if I want to be here at all.” 

The Kwami harrumphed angrily, fed up with the boy. When the Kwami had flown out of sight, Damian decided that he was going to do some sneaking around before the master returned. Sneaking downstairs, he approached the table in which many Chinese ornaments were displayed. Curious, he inspected each one of them carefully before he came across a small, hexagonal box. Seeing the latch easily opened, Damian picked up the box, opening it. 

If he expected something to happen, what happened was definitely not within his expectations. When a red ball of light approached him, his first reaction had been to back away, because how does one react in such a situation? 

“Hello! I’m Tikki, and I’m the Kwami of Creation.” The Kwami introduced. “You’re the new holder of the Ladybug miraculous!” 

Damian gulped. He did not want that. “I’m sorry, but I opened you by accident. Please go back.” 

But no, Tikki refused. “You opened me, and i can sense that you are a Ladybug. I’m not letting you renounce me.” 

Damian raised an eyebrow. “I do not want to be a Ladybug.” 

Tikki shrugged. “Well, you don’t have a choice.” 

“How do I renounce you?” Damian asked, voice cold and steely. “Tell me.” 

Tikki sighed. “Fine. Just say ‘Tikki, Spots on’.” 

Clearly, Damian wasn’t thinking. Before he knew it, the Kwami had transformed the spotted earrings in the box into a spotted ring- Ad had placed it on him- And the next thing he knew, he was standing in a spotted spandex. Wonderful.

He couldn't believe he’ d been tricked by a small fairy Kwami. He asked for her to come back out, but she didn't, which was very upsetting for the vigilante standing in a spotted spandex that he found absolutely embarrassing. But then the radio sparkled to life. 

“Paris has never seen these things before! A stone monster is terrorizing Paris, destroying buildings, and the monster won't be stopped by the police! Who will save us?” The news reported sounded genuinely terrifed. 

Sighing, Damian- In a spotted spandex- Decided that, fine, he’d have to save the day in a spotted spandex. 

---

“Mama, I’m home!” Marinette calls out cheerily. 

“Oh honey, thank god you’re safe. There’s a monster all over the news channel!” Sabine thanked, hugging her daughter. 

“I’m fine, mom.” Marinette chuckled, heading up to her room, uncaring of the monster raging outside. 

As she set down her bag and unpacked to start on her homework, she couldn't help but notice an unfamiliar hexagonal box in her bag. 

“What’s this?” Marinette murmured, opening the box in curiosity.

“I’m Plagg, and I’m your Kwami.” The black thing flew out of the box, speaking in a bored tone. Marinette screeched, dropping the box and backtracking from the creature. 

“MOM! THere’s a- A- A FLYING COCKROACH!” She screamed, swatting the thing away. The cat Kwami panicked, shushing her by sealing her lips with his tiny hands. 

“SHUSH! SHUSH!” He hissed. “I”m not a cockroach! I’m so much more above those pests.” 

Marinette panted, staring at the thing sitting on her nose. “Then what are you?” 

“You’d have known if you listened before you started screaming like crazy.” Plagg tsked in annoyance. After explaining everything, including her powers and such, he told her the magic words.

“So, I just say Plagg, claws out?” It came out as more of a question than a command, but that started off the transformation nonetheless. 

Oh joy.

---

“The stone monsters are still raging through Paris- That’s right, there’s more that one now. However, there is now hope for the people! A superhero in a spotted suit has shown up, swinging from building to building! Paris has hope, so hang on, people!” 

Marinette- Transformed- Listened to the news report downstairs, eyes wide in horror. “Well, I guess I have to go help the superhero?” She sounded unsure of herself, but she unlatched the window, sticking a leg out. Plagg had said that she couldn't let anyone know of her identity, so she’d have to sneak past her parents. 

Taking a deep breath, the girl murmured to herself under her breath. “Here’s to nothing.” 

---

It wasn't that hard to find him. 

He was making a horrible racket, swinging as he attacked the monsters, desperately trying to find the ‘akumatised’ item, as he’d gathered after he returned to Fu’s place to ask Wayzz ‘What the heck, I can’t kill them’.

A black-clad figure had appeared to help him out, and between both of them, they made an even bigger racket. Marinette- Still nameless- Had realized with a jolt that the monster was one of her classmates. 

Together, they led the monster into the auditorium, where fewer people would get hurt. Damian had given the black-dressed girl a point for that thought grudgingly. 

“His fist!” The girl had yelled, gesturing to the monster. Damian realized that yeah, the monster never unclenched his fist. That must be where the akuma was, he thought. Grudgingly giving the girl another point for cleverness, Damian swooped down with his yoyo thing (He preferred his grappling hook) and tried to open the fist- But failed- And was sent flying across the auditorium. Ouch. 

“Maybe- Maybe!” The girl had yelled, letting the monster pick her up without a fight. He had furrowed his eyebrows at her, thinking ‘What a stupid move’, but then he realized what she was trying to do. And gave her one more point. 

Eventually, they got a hold of his akuma thingy- With the help of him yelling ‘Lucky Charm’ (He swore he’d never do it again). She’d Cataclymsed it, and he, after some fiddling with that darned yoyo, managed to catch the butterfly. 

“You did a good job out there, just now.” He admitted grudgingly. 

“You too.” She smiled sweetly at him, being slightly nervous, he noticed, as she fiddled with her baton thing. “Um, you are?” 

Shit. 

He didn't think of a name! Fumbling with his words, he spluttered out: “Uh, Lordbug.” He said simply, his French rolling smoothly off his tongue.. He wasn’t intending on using the Kwami ever again, so it didn't matter. “And you?” He couldn’t help but ask. 

She pondered for a while. Then she smiled. “Kitty Noir.” 

@ozmav @maribat-archive 

(Leave a message below if you want to be in the tag list. This series is going to be one heck of a long one.) 

[nokomiss]

@deadtedkord replied to your post “I’m still up for taking fic prompts! Let me know if there’s something...”

not to pop up w angst but maybe something about either bruce or steph keeping tabs on steph's adopted baby years down the line. not getting involved just, checking in every now and again to make sure that kid is safe and happy and never has to know the pain that they do. make me CRY 2020

Okay this skirts the line of ‘not getting involved’ as steph’s baby does make an appearance but this wouldn’t leave me alone! hope you enjoy <3

*

It was a slow night in Gotham, which just… didn’t feel right to Steph. So instead of cutting her Batgirl patrol short and heading home to study for the midterm she had in two days, she hit up the comms to see if anyone else needed a hand.  

Robin and Nightwing were fine, apparently eating falafels and chatting with some stray cats after interrupting a carjacking.  Tim was off with Young Justice, Jason was with the Outlaws, Babs was doing some fairly intense cold-case research that Steph knew would end with her sneezing over some dusty police file and Cass was having a movie night with Alfred.  

Steph finally asked Bruce, knowing that he always had something going on.

Being left out of a case is fine -- they all do their own investigations, there’s nothing at all unusual about that -- but there was something about the sharpness of Bruce’s voice when he said, “You’re not needed, Batgirl,” that hit Steph the wrong way.

It had felt personal, in a way things between them hadn’t in a long while.

So Steph did what she did best: ignored the hell out of Bruce’s pettiness and showed up anyway.

Immediately she could tell that she wasn’t actually needed.  The kidnappers weren’t exactly supervillain material.  The kids were unharmed and locked in a room together.

She couldn’t figure out why Bruce had tried to keep her away.

She helped zip-tie the kidnappers, who Bruce had dealt with quickly and easily while she’d still been assessing the situation and trying to find whatever hidden threat she was meant to stay away from.

And it was Bruce that she was dealing with, she realized suddenly. There was a stiffness in his shoulders, a tightness in his jaw showing that he was uncomfortable with something, and that wasn’t a Batman trait at all.  

Only the fact that the kidnappers were still conscious -- albeit dazed -- kept her from asking what was up. 

“You can go now,” Bruce said. He still hadn’t unlocked the door the kids were behind, even though Steph knew that they’d been there for hours. 

“What? There are like five kids in there,” Steph said. “I’ll help. Kids love Batgirl.”

That strange twist of his mouth again, and then Bruce said, “Okay.”

It sounded almost like he was trying to convince himself that it was a good idea.

Steph rolled her eyes as she unlocked the door. The kids themselves were totally unharmed, and the kidnappers had clearly known what they were doing in one respect: the room was stocked in juice boxes and tablets, and the kids were for the most part calmly playing games.  They ranged between roughly four and six years old, and there were loud gasps of joy when Batgirl and Batman barged into the room.

There was no clear-cut demographic of the children -- two boys, three girls, a variety of ethnicities, though Steph noticed they all wore nice clothes, clearly no hand-me-downs, and their shoes were trendy and had clean soles.  Chosen for their parents’ wallet size instead of anything more nefarious, most likely, which made Steph relieved.  

Steph’s checking the kids over, making sure everyone’s physically and mentally good when one of the girls says, “Thank you for saving us, Batgirl!”

Steph looks at her directly for the first time and felt her heart drop.

She knew that face. She’d seen it a thousand times, she’d seen it in the pictures her mom still had hanging in the hallway from her childhood. The same eyes, the same baby-fine blonde hair, the same wide smile. Other things were different -- she couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop seeing the shape of her mom’s jaw, her dad’s ears, and her loser ex-boyfriend Dean’s freckles and eyebrows.  

It felt like she was frozen, like the way she felt in dreams sometimes, like the air itself had solidified and moving just took too much effort.  

She could feel Bruce’s presence behind her, heard the rumble of his voice letting the kids knew that their parents would be so proud of how brave they were being, that the bad people were going to jail, that help was on its way.

She blinked, and everything rushed back into focus. And she was still standing there, dressed as Batgirl, while the girl she’d given birth to beamed up at Batman like he was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen.

“You’re welcome,” Steph tells her daughter. 

The girl smiles and flings her arms around Steph’s waist.  Her face is pressed into Steph’s belly, just inches away from the c-section scar, and Steph rests her hand on her back, wishes that she wasn’t wearing gloves so that she could feel how warm and alive and present she was.  

It’s a moment she never thought she’d have - that she’d never really wanted to have, if she’s honest, because she knew that if she held her daughter she might never let go -- and it’s over before she knows it.  The girl lets go, hurries back to the other kids, beaming and saying, “I hugged Batgirl!” like it’s the biggest accomplishment of her life.

One look at Bruce and what she already knows is true is confirmed beyond a doubt; he’s watching her carefully, like she’s something that might break. Like she’s in danger of doing something dumb.

She shook her head lightly at him, trying to show without words that she’s not going to break, that she’s not going to try to do something stupid, that she’s-- 

That she’s happy and sad and trying very, very hard not to think about the fact that her daughter is four years old and has survived her first kidnapping.  

They lead the kids out of the room, shielding them from the kidnappers with their capes. Bruce lets her accompany her daughter, holding her hand and marveling at the way her little fingers curled perfectly into Steph’s, the way her daughter held her head high, tears unshed.  

“You are so, so brave,” Steph tells her, because she’s never going to have this chance again, and she’s wearing a mask, and her daughter is looking at her with something akin to hero-worship in her eyes. Steph remembers being little and seeing Batman and the way the thought of heroes out there making the world safer had made her feel, and it twists something inside all sharp and intense to think of her daughter feeling that when looking at Steph. “Always remember that. You’re incredible, and your parents are so lucky to have you.” Quieter, because she had the chance, and she knew better than to squander a chance -- “Your mother’s so proud of you.”

“She’s gonna be, I didn’t cry hardly at all,” the girl says, and Steph’s heart twists again, because there’s sweetness and love and pride in her expression at the thought of her mom seeing how brave she was. This is a girl who is happy, who is loved, who will have the best possible life.

Steph smiled at her as widely as she could and waved, not trusting her voice. 

Before she leaves, she sees a woman break through the line of cops and cry out, “Hope!”

Steph’s daughter runs into the woman’s arms, and just like that, the spell is broken, and she’s not Steph’s daughter anymore. She’s someone else’s daughter, a woman who is sobbing with relief that her little girl is unharmed, who is clinging her daughter so tight that the girl -- Hope, her name is Hope -- is pushing away at her, is laughing and talking a mile a minute about her ordeal, and Steph hears her voice, crystal-clear, say, “Batgirl rescued me, Momma, she said I was brave.”

Steph barely makes it out of sight -- there’s a building, two blocks over, and the roof has an abandoned, overgrown garden, and Steph likes to go there, sometimes. She’s standing in the overgrown garden and Bruce is hugging her, and she’s laughing and crying all at once. 

“Hope,” she says into Bruce’s chest, conscious of the fact that minutes before, she’d been holding her own daughter like this. “You knew that already, didn’t you?”

“You know I’ve been keeping track of her.” Bruce’s voice is gentle,  “Do you want to know anything else?”

Steph shakes her head, still pressed tight against the Batsuit -- the smell of kevlar and sweat and faintly, leather -- but then asks, terrified of the answer, “That-- she hasn’t had experiences like that before, right?”

She doesn’t even really want to know the answer, doesn’t want to know if her daughter had been doomed from the start, if her bad luck was somehow genetic, but Bruce replies. “She’s never been targeted before, no. She handled herself admirably.”

“She did, didn’t she?” Steph said, obscurely proud. She doesn’t really want to but she lets go of Bruce, steps back to sit on a wrought-iron bench.  In the daylight it would be scorching hot, but at night, the metal is cool and inviting.  

Bruce sits beside her.

“I know I shouldn’t have gone,” Steph says, because acknowledging her own fuck-ups is something she’s used to, “and I’m glad you tried to keep me away.”

“I didn’t intend for you to find out about this,” Bruce said. “I know the topic is… painful.”

Steph opened her mouth to tell Bruce he had no idea, to try to put to words the conflicting swirl of emotions-- not regret, exactly, because she knew with bone-deep certainty that she’d made the right decision to not raise her daughter, to keep her away from the wreckage that had been her life the past few years, but a more abstract feeling of sadness that the circumstances had been necessary at all in the first place. A wish of what might have been, had she been older, had she been prepared, had she not grown up the way she had.  A thought that at some point in the future, things might be different.

But then she realized that Bruce, out of everyone, actually would understand. He had children. 

“My mom told me,” Steph began, unsure as to how Bruce would take this, but knowing she had to set the words free that were bubbling up in her throat, “that kids, whether or not they were yours, are the one thing in the world guaranteed to break your heart.  Because you want so much for them, you want them to have everything that you never had, that could never possibly be, and that-- that it’s impossible. You can’t remake the world, can’t make it a kinder place. You just have to live with it. That loving a child meant pinning your heart to your sleeve, and having to suffer the consequences.”

Bruce didn’t say anything, but reached over and clasped her hand in his own. 

“I think-- I think she might have been wrong. About not being and to remake the world, because that’s what we do every night. And she was right, but… I know she didn’t want me to go through everything I had.” Looking back, she’d been a lot younger than she’d realized when she’d been pregnant. Just a few scant years older than Damian, and he was so firmly a child in her mind that it made her reconsider all those feelings she’d had at the time of being grown-up.  She hadn’t felt it at the time, but she was older now, had a world of experiences that shone a light on exactly how young she’d been when she’d gotten pregnant.

She knew that to Bruce, she likely still was a child. Right now, she didn’t feel it. 

“Like, I knew she was out in the world before,” Steph said. “But now… She’s real, in a way that she wasn’t before.”

“Her life is significantly safer than ours,” Bruce said, reassuringly. She could hear the truth of it in his voice, trusted him on this.  Then he said, “I knew you didn’t want to see her.” There was no condemnation in his voice, only understanding, but Steph felt compelled to defend herself anyway. 

“I wanted to see her so badly,” she said. She couldn’t look at Bruce, just looked at the tangle of dying plants around them, at the Gotham skyline, all soft lights and sharp edges, beyond that. “It felt like losing part of myself at first, but I knew… I knew what her life would be if I kept her. What my life would be.”  She took a deep breath. “If I’d held her, and wasn’t strong enough to let her go afterwards, I would have been condemning us both.”

Now it seemed unfathomable. She wouldn’t be Batgirl now, she knew that much. Would never have been Robin. Spoiler might have been laid to the wayside, like it had when she’d been pregnant, but she remembered how she’d longed to go out in the night even when her belly made her waddle and struggle to sit up. Likely she still would have figured out a way.

But she wouldn’t have taken the risks she had. Wouldn’t have thrown herself into things as wildly. She probably wouldn’t have died, wouldn’t have broken her mother’s heart, wouldn’t have caused all the grief she could still sometimes see in Tim and Cass’s face when it was alluded to.

Instead, she knew the path her life would have taken: trying at first to stay in school, but working long hours. Her mom being forced to babysit every spare moment, life turning into a never ending scheduling conflict. Quitting school in favor of a minimum wage paycheck and abandoning hope of becoming something greater, something more. She might have managed a nursing degree, her own mother had with an infant at home, but she’d seen that path, too. 

She wouldn’t be here, now: sitting on a rooftop with Batman, filled with a flurry of might-have-beens, having just saved a roomful of children who looked up to her with something akin to worship. Wouldn’t be worrying about a midterm in biology. 

And the woman she’d seen, the one who’d loved her daughter enough to elbow her way through a police line, wouldn’t have that. 

“She looked so loved,” Steph said.

“She has good parents,” Bruce said. “She’s taken care of. Cherished.”

“She seemed okay, and the kidnappers were jokes, but they didn’t… this isn’t going to hurt her, is it?”  Steph had been kidnapped plenty, had been involved in various criminal acts even younger, and she knew it had skewed the way she looked at the world. 

“She attends a preschool,” Bruce said. “They were meant to be going on a field trip to a farm outside of town. One of the kidnappers disguised themselves as the van driver, while the others distracted the teachers. One of the other children on board’s father is the director of a medical group, I understand that there are delays with getting treatment for the child of one of the kidnappers. She was never harmed.”

Oh. That explained the juice boxes, they loved their own child enough to do something desperate to save them.

“That kid’s going to get the treatment it needs, right?” Steph already knew the answer but asked anyway.

“They’ll get a letter from Wayne Memorial this week,” Bruce confirmed.

Steph had another question, one that Bruce likely wouldn’t answer. Shouldn’t answer, but she wanted confirmation. “Did… Does it feel different, with Damian, from the others?”

Bruce took a minute to think, long enough that she knew he was answering her underlying question with care. “At first. The others, I chose. I brought them in, I thought it through, I knew them and wanted them in my life. Wanted to make a home for them. I didn’t choose him. And at first, if anything, it was harder.”

Steph listened. She wasn’t sure if Bruce had ever spoken of this out loud.

“But then it was like he’d always been a part of my life, just like the others, a part that was irreplaceable and unique but that I loved in the same way.” 

That settled something within her, something she hadn’t realized was bothering her. 

A long pause, then Steph broke the silence. “How do you do it?”

Bruce looked at her, waiting for clarification.

“Send your kids out there every night,” Steph said.  She could still feel the way her heart had dropped when she’d realized that her daughter was in danger, and couldn’t fathom what it would be like knowing her child was out trying to punch supervillains in the face. “Doesn’t it scare you?”

“Every day,” Bruce said. “Every night.”

She wondered if he was thinking about Jason’s death, about all the close calls. About how Damian flung himself into danger so recklessly, like he still believed he was invincible. The way all kids thought they were invincible. About Dick, Tim, Cass. About all of his children, choosing the fight over safety every time.

 She wondered if he was thinking about her in Leslie’s clinic, clutching his hand and dying.

Bruce continued, looking down at their currently clasped hands. “I have faith in their ability to keep themselves as safe as possible. I train them as best I can, make sure they have the best equipment. Try to always know where they are, in case I can help. But mostly… your mother was right. Having kids is putting a piece of yourself out in the world and not knowing if it’s safe or not, and being grateful for every day that it is.”

He’d been careful with his words, never said you, but Steph could feel the weight of a small fortune’s worth of equipment and technology in her suit, in her belt. The communicators that shared her location. 

The way he’d tried to protect her by trying to keep her away tonight, so that she wouldn’t have to face this complicated churn of emotions.

She rested her head on his shoulder and mumbled, “Thank you. For everything.”

She felt him shift, and the slightest hint of pressure as he pressed a kiss into the top of her cowl.  

“There’s a file, if you want to know more about her.”

She’d known that, from the moment she’d made him promise to keep her baby safe.  She knew Bruce didn’t do half-measures, that he took each promise he made as a lifelong commitment.  She’d known that, and she’d never consciously thought about it, because it was too much. “No, I think-- I think I saw enough.”

She’d seen a child deeply loved, a child that was brave and beautiful and bright.  That flung herself at heroes, safe in the knowledge that they were only there to help.

She’d seen all she needed to know that her daughter was living the life she’d hoped to have herself as a child. That she was living the life that Steph had hoped for when she’d signed those papers.  

That this was one glorious instance of one of her choices going exactly right.

[vgirl-10123]

Decorating (Damianette Fic)

    A/N: Hey guys! Sorry I missed the first 2 days but i wanted to add something to my #1 favorite ship atm. I appreciate any and all feedback! Also I know there's not a lot of dialogue, I really suck at it.

It was November 29th, and Marinette was just finishing packing up for her Christmas trip to Gotham. Her parents had allowed her to travel to Gotham for Christmas this year as they would be busy with the bakery this time of the season. She was sure that they just wanted her to spend some time with a certain green-eyed someone, but they would never admit it if she asked. After she came back from a class trip, they saw how she seemed to brighten up. She seemed to laugh more and they didn’t miss the noticeable blush when she got a call from him.

During her class trip to Gotham City, she had met someone, a boy. Damian Wayne to be more precise. She had been going on a tour of Wayne Enterprises and was eating lunch in the cafeteria with Alya , Adrien, and Nino, when a man with impossibly green eyes sat down in front of her and the rest was history. They ended up hanging out for the rest of the two weeks they were there. Joined at the hip, hanging off each other, holding hands, the list goes on and on. They managed to stay in contact since then and no one was surprised when the started dating 3 months later. He came to Paris for a vacation. At the end of it, he asked her to be his girlfriend on the Louvre.

Another thing, they know each other’s identities. It was by accident. She was hanging out with Damian In Gotham when she got an akuma alert. She managed to leave to Paris and when she came back with Adrien through a portal and about to detransform, Robin was watching the whole thing and saw the detransformation. He stepped out of hiding and with Marinette and Adrien freaking out about how he can’t tell anyone and about how they are so screwed, Robin started laughing. He wiped away tears and brought them to the batcave. Once there, he pulled off his mask and revealed that he was Damian. Adrien being Adrien was confused, but Marinette managed to figure out the identities of the other bats before even officially meeting them. To say she impressed the big bat was an understatement. Her and Tim bonded over their intelligence. Adrien and Dick had managed to form a quick bond over their sunshine sides. Surprisingly, Marinetter and Jason had actually became really close. All in all, Bruce mentally adopted 2 children that night.

So, Bruce had generously offered them to visit Gotham for the holidays. They would come from December 1st and stay until January 3rd. Both Adrien and Marinette were able to go. That leads us to now.

“So Marinette, are you excited to see Dami?” Adrien asked with a teasing tone in his voice.

“Adrien! If you must know, yes, yes I am,” Marinette said sticking her nose up in the air before giggling. “I’m actually super excited to see him. It’s been a few months now and even though we video chat, it’ll be nice to see him in person.”

“I get it. Plagg is so excited that he gets to see Jason again. Says he just radiates destruction and chaos.”

“Maybe from the Lazarus pit that brought him back to life? I don’t know. Either way, Tikki over here is so ready to see Alfred and his new cookie recipes he has.”

“That reminds me, Plagg is excited for all the cheese that is going to be there. Says that someone’s bound to set out camembert for him.”

Marinette laughs, then looks at the time. “Hey Adrien, I have to go. I promised Master Fu that I would grab Kaalki before it got too dark out. I’ll see you at patrol tonight yeah?”

“Okay. See you then, M’lady.”

“Goodnight Chaton.”

The morning, at 5 a.m., she and Adrien boarded the plane. Many hours later they arrived in Gotham. Alfred had picked them up and they had set off to their rooms for a much needed nap. Once they woke up, they went their separate ways. Marinette to Damian and Adrien to the kitchen for some food. They didn’t fully recover until 3 days later. Apparently, jet lag had hit much harder than intended.

December 3rd, Marinette woke up feeling refreshed for the first time in days. She went down to the kitchen and saw that Alfred was the only one up. She helped him make some muffins for breakfast and talked about recipes and kwamis.

Marinette spent the day with Damian and his brothers, playing some board games and card games. She absolutely bested them at poker by the way. The only bad part about the whole day was that it was the first akuma since they had arrived in Gotham. Her and Adrien had suited up and left in a portal to Paris.

The akuma was relatively easy, just a nightmare a little kid had, nothing they haven’t handled before. It had only lasted an hour and they made it back to Gotham in record time. It was so perfect that by the time they got back, Dick and Jason had just got a tree set up in the living room.

They both had immediately started helping. Getting the lights untangled, putting on ornaments, putting on the tree skirt, the works. They had finished the tree around an hour later. She was curled up with Damian, hot chocolate in hand, and sitting around the fireplace. Looking to her right, she saw Adrien sleeping with Plagg in his arm. Gazing around the room she also saw Dick sprawled on the couch, Jason with his feet on the coffee table, and Tim curled up in the corner of the couch with his cup of coffee. Bruce sat in the chair with a book in hand. She looked down and saw Tikki curled up in her hoodie that she had put on. Faintly, she heard alfred in the kitchen cleaning up. She glanced up at Damian and saw him smiling softly at her.

“What?”

“Nothing Angel. I love you habibti.”

“I love you too Damian.” And with that thought, she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

[violetsmoak]

Philtatos [14/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47690671

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #undying love #fatal flaw #jealousy

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

What follows is a silent feud about where Jason will sleep. He tries to insist that the cot in the medbay will be sufficient, but Tim is unmoved by the argument.

“You need to be comfortable,” he maintains crossly. “The only time anyone gets any sleep in here is if they’re doped up on the good drugs, none of which will help you right now.”

“Sleep won’t help me either, you know. There hasn’t really been a difference between being awake or not for a while now.”

Tim tries not to betray his dismay at that. “It might not do anything for your mind, but it might for the rest of you. You need to keep what strength you can.”

“Then I’ll sleep on your couch.”

“That thing was brought for decoration only,” Tim counters. “I can tell you from experience that falling asleep on it causes as many bruises as a night of patrol.” He pauses to consider, and then says, “Besides, that’s where the brat’s sleeping if he stays over.”

Damian rolls his eyes. “Hilarious. I expect someone else will be here to relieve me before I ever have to endure what passes as your version of hospitality.” 

“There are two bedrooms in the apartment,” Tim goes on, ignoring the boy, “Alfred was by before all this happened to change the linens, so it’s all clean. You can take my bed—”

“No. No. I can’t. If you’re going to be stubborn about this, I’ll go with the guestroom.”

“Really? You’re going to pick a fight over this too?” Tim groans. “My room is the only one with blackout blinds, which are statistically proven to improve sleep quality.”

Jason shifts from side to side, like he’s wavering, and then throws Damian an almost pleading look.

The boy huffs in irritation and snaps at Tim, “Surely even you can’t be ignorant to the implications of letting a man, who’s aroused by your very presence, sleep in your bed?”

Stunned silence meets that comment, before the horror sets in.

“Damian!”

“What the hell, kid?!”

“You just…I can’t believe you…That’s not…!” Tim may be too upset for words at this moment, not least of all because the little monster has a point.

“If this is what having a normal younger brother feels like, I’m amazed any of you make it to adulthood,” Jason growls, cheeks bright red.

The boy remains unrepentant. “I’m sure Richard has said the same thing about both of you on occasion. Now, if you’re both finished with the Victorian theatrics, I haven’t eaten yet and assuming the likely event that Drake has nothing palatable in his fridge, I intend to order something. If you don’t want to starve, you may come along. And bring your credit card.”

He swans out of the medbay, leaving the older vigilantes staring after him.

“How?” Tim mutters. “How is it the little jerk always manages to walk around my property like he owns it?”

“Because you’re a pushover,” Jason answers immediately.

Tim makes a face. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me that when you’re not holding my hand like it’s a lifeline.”

Jason’s eyes snap downward in surprise like he didn’t notice he was doing it. If they were red before, the color of his cheeks appears to darken further now.

“Shut up,” he snaps.

Which makes Tim feel bad about teasing him.

It’s not like he has control over it.

Or the way he’s been looking at him since Tim showed up with Barbara.

It’s total disbelief, like he can’t understand how Tim was physically in front of him, and then something like shame or guilt.

The knot in Tim’s stomach tightens at that.

Is kissing me really something that bothers him that much?

“You, uh, you don’t have to take my bed,” Tim murmurs, avoiding the other man’s gaze. “It’s like you said. Not like you’re going to sleep anyway, so…the guestroom should be good enough.”

He leaves the medbay, Jason in tow.

“Why do you even have a guestroom?” the latter wants to know. “You don’t strike me as the type to want people staying over here.”

“Kon and Bart sometimes crash here.”

Jason scowls. “Aren’t they fast enough to just zoom back home in a blink? Why do they have to stay here?”

“Uh, because they’re my friends? And sometimes friends get together and do things like play video games, go see movies or just sit and commiserate about how irritating our parent-slash-mentors can be. They don’t have to stay, but sometimes it’s just fun to hang out.”

“Yeah, well, wouldn’t know anything about that,” Jason mutters.

Some of Tim’s attitude fades away. “Really? Bruce didn’t let you hang out with your friends?”

“To do that you need to have friends to hang out with.”

“But I thought—there was that girl, wasn’t there?” he asks as he opens the door to the apartment, and they head in.

I’m sure I saw pictures of her and Jason up in his bedroom.

Jason looks confused for a moment, like he’s trying to remember something long-buried, but eventually the recollection takes hold.

“Rena? Yeah, we hung out, but there weren’t sleepovers involved, and I couldn’t exactly complain to her about when Batman was being a douche,” he reminds him. “And I guarantee when we went to see movies, we weren’t actually watching the movie. If you know what I mean.”

He ends the last bit with a leer and now it’s Tim who’s embarrassed.  “What about the Titans? You never stayed over at the Tower?”

“Daytrips only,” Jason replies. “B wasn’t keen on me hanging out with them. I think he still blamed them for Dick leaving and thought they’d corrupt me or something. I was rarely there long enough to bond with anyone like that.”

“Sounds kind of like Damian’s situation,” Tim says, glancing over to where the younger boy is sitting at his kitchen island with his cellphone in hand, lecturing someone across the line in rapid Chinese.

“I think in his case, it isn’t so much the lack of opportunity to make friends as the lack of interest.”

“You’re not wrong.” Tim shakes his head. “I mean, he did grow up in the League. And you…” He trails off, suddenly reminded. “You were there too, right? When you came back?”

“Sort of,” Jason allows, shifting with discomfort. “Friends weren’t high on the list of priorities then.”

“I guess not.”

Tim purses his lips as he leads Jason up the stairs toward the bedroom, wondering not for the first time what kind of hell the other man had to endure upon his resurrection. That part of his life is a mystery to them all.

And I have a feeling some of it shouldn’t be.

He recalls the blades that appeared in Jason’s hand out of nowhere, and strains his memory through the disorganization of the fight to remember what Carrie Cutter said when she saw them.

“What about the All-Caste,” he recalls out loud as he leads for Jason to enter the guestroom at the end of the hall. “Was that the same thing?”

He doesn’t have to look at the other man to notice he’s tensed up. “Sort of, yeah.”

“So, it’s another secret organization? They’re the ones who gave you those swords, right?”

“Nobody gave me anything,” Jason grunts, and skirts past Tim and through the door into the room. He pauses a moment, assessing the space as if expecting something to jump out at him—there’s the Bat-paranoia—before turning back to face Tim. “I trained for that shit, and it takes a special kind of rage to be able access the All-Blades.”

Tim leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “All-Blades. Really. They’re seriously called that?”

Jason shoots him a look. “Problem?”

“No. I just…it’s kind of a lame name. Magic blades are usually called…Excalibur or Sword of Omens or Dagger of Time.” That earns him a disbelieving look, and Tim throws his hands up in defense. “I’m just saying.”

“You’re a goddamn nerd is what you’re saying,” Jason informs him. “And it doesn’t matter what they’re called, it’s what they do.”

“' Only show up in the presence of pure evil’. I remember. As far as powers go, at least they’re useful.”

“Not if Cupid decides to keep switching back and forth with whoever’s helping her,” Jason says. “They work against whoever that is but are useless against her when she’s human and just crazy.” Weariness radiates off him, and to Tim’s surprise, he throws himself back onto the bed seemingly without any of his prior unease, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “What I wouldn’t give right now for a superpower that was a bit less finicky.”  

“The fact that we have a power on our side at all is still an advantage.”

“Not as much as if I had the ability to blow shit up with my mind. Which would be kind of poetic.”

His mouth twists into a self-deprecating grin that makes Tim scowl. “Of course.”

Always with the death jokes.

Jason appears to notice his tone because when he lowers his hands from his eyes there’s a glimmer of apology there. It vanishes almost immediately, hidden beneath the veneer of humor.

“What about you?” he asks.

“What about me what?”

“If you could have a superpower, what would it be?”

And isn’t this surreal?

First, that Jason is here in his apartment, second that this isn’t some kind of Red Hood plan where he shows up to mess with Tim. And now they’re talking about superpowers? In the hypothetical sense, instead of their usual ‘someone-with-a-power-is-trying-to-kill-us’ sense.

Jason is still waiting for him to answer, so Tim thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. Something easy to hide, I guess.”

“Hide? Like from B?”

“No—well, yeah, that too. You know how he is. But I wouldn’t want something that would call attention to myself, or anyone else in the masked community. Especially not the Bats,” he says.

“Huh. Guess you got a point. If suddenly getting powers meant you develop lizard skin or wings or gills, it’d be kinda hard to hide even with all the fun Wayne Enterprises toys you’ve got.”

“And if someone like Vicki Vale could finally make the connection between me and everyone else? I think I’ll pass.”

Jason shakes his head. “There you go again, putting everyone’s needs and comfort above yourself. It’s a real issue with you, isn’t it?”

“It’s a hypothetical situation, you don’t need to read too much into it.”

“Okay, well hypothetically, if you weren’t a self-sacrificing moron, what power would you want?”

Tim ponders for a moment, and then says, “Being able to fly, maybe. Or super strength.”

“Wanna be able to keep up with Super Clone, huh?” Jason asks, voice a little tight.

Tim frowns because that sounds like a dig; not at him, he realizes a beat later, but Connor.

Why would that…? Oh. He’s jealous.

Still unsure how to deal with Jason’s newfound possessiveness, he gauges the other man’s body language, and then slowly enters the room proper to perch on the edge of the bed. Knowing how uneasy Jason is about physical proximity, he keeps a respectable distance between them for now.

Out loud, and in a would-be casual voice, he replies, “No, nothing like that. It’d just be nice to be able to go up against Bane or Killer Croc without having to worry too much about the day I’m too slow to dodge.”

Wrong thing to say, apparently.

Jason’s instantly sitting up and reaching for Tim—almost snatching at him. “You go one-on-one with Killer Croc? Are you nuts?”

“It’s an example,” Tim is quick to assure him even as he lets him grasp his hand. “I’ve never been that reckless. I’m not Damian.”

Although there was that one time, I tricked Killer Croc and Bane into going after each other instead of me, but I’m not telling Jason that now. Save that for when he’s cured and will find it funny instead of upsetting.

He tries to ignore the nagging doubt at the back of his mind that they’re even going to be able to cure Jason.

Or that if they do, Jason will even stick around.

“Thank the gods for small miracles,” Jason exhales; he doesn’t remove his hand, though.

“Also, aside from being useful the next time someone decides to drop a baby over a bridge, flying’s awesome,” Tim says lightly. “You can’t tell me your favorite thing about being Robin wasn’t jumping off tall buildings.”

“Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. There’s something to be said for busting collarbones.”

“You forget that I was there,” Tim points out. “I saw you taking the long way back to your rendezvous points just so you could be in the air a little longer.”

“Pics or it didn’t happen.”

“I have pictures.”

“Which you don’t show anyone.”

“Yeah, because I love reminding people of how I stalked them when I was a stupid kid,” Tim deadpans.

“Hey, you did it, own it. But I’d still like to see those pictures. I…uh…don't exactly have a lot of me from before…from when I was a kid.”

Tim purses his lips, holding back on his first instinct to babble out an agreement. This new honesty and vulnerability Jason is showing him—the increased tactility and need for proximity—it’s only Eros’ blood influencing him. Who’s to say once things are back to normal—and they will be!—Jason won’t go back to mocking and deriding Tim?

Assuming he wants to be within ten feet of me.

“Tell you what,” he says at last. “When this is over, if you still want to see them, I’ll hunt them out of storage.”

Jason beams at him in genuine excitement. “Awesome.”

They gaze at each other for several seconds, before Jason seems to remember himself. His eyes dart to their hands, and he pulls back again. “Sorry.”

“You know what I’m going to say.”

“Yeah. But it’s not just about you. I’m not…I don’t do this.” He gestures. “Even when I’m not under the influence of mind-altering drugs, not a fan of handsy guys. Especially if the handsy guy is me.”

“You know, I had noticed that pattern since you got back to Gotham,” Tim says dryly. “All that busting of collarbones you were talking about.”

Jason’s cheeks go pink for some reason at that. “Uh. Yeah. Exactly.”

Before Tim can think it over, Jason shifts until he’s lying down, and then turns his back on Tim. “Think I’m gonna try that whole sleeping thing. Just for shits and giggles.”

“Okay,” Tim replies slowly, feeling as if he’s missing something. “You want me to go?”

“No!” Jason practically whirls around, winces when he realizes how fervent that was. “I mean…you can stay. If you want.” He swallows, looking anywhere but Tim. “Might help. A bit. You don’t have to.”

I hope the King of Mixed Signals thing you’ve got going on is just the infection…

“How about this,” Tim begins, bringing out his phone. “I’ll sit over here—” A respectable six inches away from Jason, “—and get to work on that list. You try to get some sleep. When you wake up, you can look it over and tell me what you think.”

He can see how Jason’s working out if that’s alright, trying to find any way that could backfire, and then he slowly nods.

“Okay. Yeah. Let’s do that.”

“And at the top of the list,” Tim says, shooting him a meaningful glare, “‘Jason Todd is allowed to hold Tim Drake’s hand’. Should I put it in bold?”

“Don’t be such a smug shit, Replacement.”

The other man still settles back on his side of the bed. It’s completely stiff at first, and his eyes remain trained on Tim like he’s afraid he’ll either vanish or wrap himself around him.

Tim pretends not to notice the scrutiny, instead sits cross-legged in his designated spot, and makes it seem like he’s wholly engrossed in figuring out a list of behaviors that they can both consider allowable. Which is a new one for him, because he’s never really considered doing this before in a regular relationship, let alone one as situational as this.

Eventually the exhaustion of the past days catches up with Jason, and the Bat conditioning of grabbing sleep wherever and whenever one can wins out. His breath evens out and when Tim does look up, his eyelids have drifted shut.

For several minutes, he simply watches, before catching himself.

Don’t be a creeper.

He turns back to his phone.

Unsure what else to add to the list (and there’s kind of no point doing this while Jason’s asleep, Tim only said he’d work on it to keep the other man calm), Tim decides to use the time to read up a little more on Greek mythology. Jason is so well-read on this subject and Tim has only a passing knowledge, if there’s any chance of thinking up new solutions for this case, it will help if he doesn’t need Jason or Eros to take the time to explain things to him.

Especially not Eros. I trust him about as far as Kon could throw him…

He never thought this sort of thing was important to know, mostly because if there was ever case involving mythology or ancient evil, Cassie generally had that covered.

Apparently, a refresher course is in order.

Speaking of Cassie, he sends her a quick text—and then one to Bart and Kon just to cover all his bases—before diving into his research.

He doesn’t have the time or the patience to read the original works of Hesiod or Homer, although he amuses himself thinking Jason probably has.

Maybe even in the original Greek.

He spares a fond look for the sleeping man beside him.

Somehow, he never expected he could look so vulnerable. And not only because that word seems incompatible for describing Jason.

After years of training, the mantra of ‘constant vigilance’ gets so ingrained in a body that it can never really relax into slumber. Tim doesn’t think any of the Robins are able to just check-out when they go to sleep.

Not without heavy sedation, or under the care of a qualified English butler.

And unlike Dick and Tim, the other Robins all led lives that were anything but safe. Being a heavy sleeper could lead to more than just bruises.

His fingers want to drift toward Jason again, want to comb through his hair but Tim is loath to disturb his fragile slumber.

He becomes aware then, of eyes on him and Jason; looking up, he catches Damian watching from the doorway, a frown on his face.

Tim tenses up defensively then, expecting a snide comment and already planning on how he’ll fight the kid if he makes a big deal about this.

Jason already feels bad enough about the whole thing, we don’t need any more comments from the peanut gallery.

“Did you need something?” he asks coolly, voice soft so as not to disturb Jason.

“I simply came to inform you that Brown has arrived for her babysitting shift,” the boy tells him, but the usual sneer that would accompany his words is absent. He lingers a further moment in the doorway, shakes his head and then walks away.

Tim frowns, not sure he wants to ask, but also knowing that leaving Damian to his own devices rarely turns out well.

Carefully, he shifts away from Jason, moving with gentleness so as not to wake him. Once he’s satisfied that he hasn’t disturbed him, he leaves the room and gently closes the door behind him.

Damian is already across the hallway, leaning against the door of Tim’s study with his arms crossed and mouth pulled downward. It’s the same look Bruce gets when he’s puzzling out a clue that doesn’t fit.

“You care for Todd.”

“Of course I do,” Tim agrees automatically. “He’s one of us.”

“No. Not like that.” Damian pauses, like he’s trying to choose his words with care, which is…rare for him. “You care about him in a romantic way. I had assumed it was one-sided due to the circumstances, but it’s not. You return his feelings.”

Tim’s stomach swoops, a lump in his throat.

First Steph, now Damian. I’ve managed to keep this to myself for almost ten years, and in the span of two weeks two of the people I’d least like to know figure it out.

Damian continues to watch him, waiting for a confirmation or a denial.

Tim chooses to side-step. “He doesn’t have feelings for me. You know that’s Eros’ blood making him act this way.”

“Perhaps. It doesn’t change the fact that at this moment, he cares for you and you care for him.”

“The key words being ‘at this moment’,” Tim says with a scowl. “Which means it doesn’t matter. It’s not real.”

“I don’t understand. This is clearly a good thing, and yet you both persist in being miserable,” Damian says, crossing his arms. “If you act on your feelings, it could allay his distress much better than your current half-measures. And in the meantime, the rest of us can work on a long-term solution.”

Tim clenches his jaw, a myriad of responses on his tongue, some more defensive and angry than others.

He’s saved from saying anything when another voice says, “It doesn’t work like that, Dami.”

Steph has made her way up the stairs; she’s dressed in comfortable clothes and the cast on her arm has been wrapped with purple tape.

“There’s no Band-Aid solution for this,” she goes on. “When this is all over and Jason goes back to wanting nothing to do with the Family—with Tim—it’s going to be heartbreaking.”

“It will be heartbreaking anyhow,” Damian points out. “You may as well enjoy it while you can. At least then, you’ll have the memories. Especially if our efforts to save him are unsuccessful.”

Which is oddly deep, for Damian.

“Memories aren’t always a good substitute for giving up that last bit of yourself,” Steph says quietly. “Take it from someone who knows from experience.”

Her expression wavers, and Tim wonders which heartbreak she’s thinking of just then. Her father constantly letting her down, having to give up her daughter, the events that lead to her breakup with Tim—

It could be anything.

“And you don’t want another schism with Jason to affect the team dynamics,” Steph concludes.

Damian is not convinced. “Please. If that were the case, we would already have seen worse consequences from you and Drake working together.”

Steph tilts her head to one side. “Okay, you have a point there. Kinda surprised you’re the one making it, though.”

“Why?”

“I always figured romantic relationships didn’t merit your attention.”

“Not unless they affect our work. Which is what Drake and Todd’s is doing now.”

“Should have known…” Steph rolls her eyes. “Still surprising, though. Especially considering your background.”

“Meaning?”

“The, uh, culture you come from. With the League and how strict they are about everything. I figured you’d have a bigger problem with two guys, you know, having feelings for each other.”

“Alleged feelings,” Tim reminds. “Alleged feelings induced by supernatural roofie. I don’t think it counts.”

“Technicalities,” Steph dismisses with a wave of her hand. “There’s still major dude-on-dude sexual tension happening here.”

Tim chokes, and Damian looks like he stepped in something gross. “Thank you for that horrifying assessment, Brown.”

“I do what I can.”

“But for your information, League law is based on skills, not who warms one’s bed,” Damian says. “Proscriptions against homosexuality were created by populations with such a low survival rate following birth that every available person had to be governed by the need to procreate. That’s no longer an issue today.”

“Really.”

“In fact, should anyone in the League develop an attachment to one of their comrades—which isn’t forbidden, by the way, it’s just looked down on—it’s considered less of a problem among same-sex relationships because it means fewer children adding to the surplus population of the world. If no one elevates their paramour above the League’s law and purpose, it is not a problem.”

“Huh. That actually makes sense. I mean, with Ra’s’ whole ‘destroy humanity to save the world’ spiel.”

“Only certain bloodlines are continued to ensure stewardship of the world,” Damian agrees. “My aunt, once she fulfilled her duties to give birth to an heir, has taken only female lovers.”

“Wait…you have an aunt?”

Damian ignores her and turns to Tim. “Were your feelings for Todd entirely mutual, it would be a smart match for the both of you. Your bloodlines would cease, ridding us of your less desirable evolutionary qualities.”

“Gee, thanks,” Tim deadpans. “I think that was almost a compliment.”

“With you and Todd unable to provide a legacy, I would be the only one to carry on Father’s bloodline,” the boy concludes.

“You do realize that adoption and surrogacy are a thing, right?” Steph asks, bemused. “I mean, weren’t you technically a test-tube baby?”

“Blood is blood,” Damian says with a shrug.

“And how do Cass and Duke and Dick fit into your little scenario here?” Tim grumbles.

“Cain has never indicated an interest in any children and given the conditioning her biological parents subjected her to, I image they ensured it would never become an issue for her,” the boy muses. “Thomas is not part of the family—”

“Yet,” Steph pipes up.

Damian makes a dismissive gesture, as if he agrees but doesn’t consider it an issue. “And Richard is not blood.”

“He’s still Bruce’s son.”

“We’re all Bruce’s sons,” Tim growls, once again growing irritated with Damian’s black-and-white view of the world.

“You retained your father’s name, as does Thomas. Todd is legally deceased. And Richard never took Father’s name, to begin with. He will have his own children—if by some miracle he doesn’t have them already—and they will likely marry into the family since he is ghayr mahram. Thus, we’ll maintain a strong Wayne bloodline.”

He nods to himself as if pleased with the assessment.

Tim stares. “Your brain is a messed-up place. You know this, right?”

“You seriously have all of this planned out?” Steph wonders, expression caught between disturbed and impressed. She looks like she might want to hear more, and so Tim interrupts.

“In any case, you guys are way off-topic—like, parallel-universe-levels of off-topic. And if you don’t stop, I’m going to start speculating about hypothetical future relationships between the two of you.”

“Oh, ew. Why, Tim? Why?”

“As if I would ever…of all the preposterous…does your mind know no bounds of depravity?” Damian sputters.

“Consider it revenge for that comment you made about Jason in the medbay.”

Damian shudders. “Point made.

“What comment?”

“Not now, Steph.”

She sighs. “Fine. I know when I’m not wanted. I’m going to finish steal some Chinese food if you don’t mind.”

She heads downstairs, and Tim shoots a glare at Damian. “You didn’t come to get us when the food got here?”

“Do I look like Pennyworth to you? It’s not enough I had to order it for you—”

“With my money, I’m guessing.”

“—did you want me to eat it for you too?”

“Like you didn’t already.”

“Semantics.” The boy turns toward the stairs as well.

“Damian.”

“What?”

“Don’t…don't tell Bruce,” Tim says after a beat of hesitation. He doesn’t like confirming any kind of perceived weakness to the younger boy, but this one has ruinous potential if not kept secret. “Please.”

Damian doesn’t immediately take his meaning, but when he does, he gives a sharp, barely noticeably nod.

“Tch—as if Father would be bothered by such trivium. But if you insist.” Tim exhales in surprised relief. “Although…”

He tenses. Should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

“I would caution you against making your feelings about Todd very obvious around Richard,” Damian suggests. “Considering the way he has been compromised, should he discover the truth it won’t remain a secret for you to tell.”

He departs then, leaving Tim standing in the hallway, feeling bizarrely wrong-footed.

⁂

The horizon over Susa is dark but for a thin strip of pink, the last lingering trail of Apollo’s chariot. As he heads out of the feast chamber and onto the balcony, Jason—no, not Jason. He is Alexandros, scion of gods and heir to kings—breathes deep the spicy sweet-smelling air and tries to dispel his melancholy.

His mind is a million miles away from the festivities within. He can hear the raucous shouts of his men and their new wives, the music and the dance and the drink. He should be in there with them, but his mood for celebrating feels false—false like the entire charade he’s just engaged in for the sake of peace and politics.

His feet are itching to take off at a run for who knows where, and yet he remains stubbornly and painfully grounded.

There is a hand suddenly upon his—brown, callused and familiar. He looks down into dark, burning eyes and sees concern there, and so forces a smile.

“This is your wedding night, you know,” he reminds. “You should be spending it with your brides.”

“And you with yours,” Tim—no, Hephaestion—replies, trying for teasing but it sounds more brittle than anything else.

“The duty will keep. There is only one I would spend this night with.”

Alexandros leans into the other man, presses his forehead head against the smaller man’s hair.

“I’ll be sure to notify Roxana to expect you,” Hephaestion murmurs.

Alexandros reels back with a scowl. “Very funny.”

“I thought it was.”

But there’s a lack of his usual wry humor in the words.

Alexandros sighs, knowing the reason for it. “Are you still angry I insisted you wed Drypteis?”

“How can I be? The weddings were my idea.” And they were—a brilliant and necessary political maneuver meant to forge ties between the ruling houses of Perses and Makedonia.

“One you suggested without expecting you would have to endure yourself,” he points out. “Policy works better when those in power lead by example.”

“Is that what it was? Here I thought you were simply tiring of the rumormongering of your other vassals,” Hephaestion says darkly. “It’s no secret they would have me banished or dead to take my place.”

“There is no one who ever could,” Alexandros assures him, worried about the sudden insecurity. “And my wish that you wed had nothing to do with what anyone else thinks. There is a grander hope in my heart than that.”

Hephaestion raises an eyebrow; it’s the first he’s heard of this.

“Do you not see? In having you marry the sister of my own wife, you and I are now bound even more closely together than before. We are family in more than just bond now—as closely as nature will allow—and no one can argue it,” Alexandros explains fervently. “And one day when I have a son, and you a daughter, they can wed. We will share descendants, and they will cement the dynasty and our bloodline in perpetuity.” He crosses his arms. “So my other vassals can bay at the moon as much as they want, there will never be another who replaces you in my esteem.”

Hephaestion’s expression is surprised at first, then pleased. A small smile curls at the edge of his lips, cheeks darkening. But a moment later, something troubling and uncertain enters his eyes.

“What is it, philtatos? Does that future displease you?”

“It’s a pretty dream your words weave, but if someone sticks a knife in your back or poisons you before you father an heir, it’s nothing but a dream.”

“There is time enough for that yet. And in that task, I am not alone,” he teases. “Your line also has yet to be so blessed.”

But Hephaestion does not rise to the bait. “You have already achieved so much. As great as—greater still—than your father before you.” Alexandros clenches his fist at the mention of his father; the man is dead twelve years and yet still casts a long, damned shadow. “What could you lose, hanging back for a year or so? Spend some time running the empire you’re building instead of marching constantly to war.”

“What would be the point of that?” he dismisses, putting some distance between the two of them. “You do that job better than I do, with your shrewd plans and shadowy plots. I am quite content with you keeping the works running while I conquer us a legacy that will last millennia.” 

“I have already made the point as to why that might be problematic.”

“Nonsense. Don’t you see? This is why our empire will last longer than any other—because instead of one man grasping desperately to hold the reins of power, there will be two.” He grasps the shoulders of his beloved. “For you, Hephaestion, are Alexandros as well. My second self.” He reaches to cradle his chin, brushing his thumb across the other man’s lips. “Have I not said so a thousand times?”

Hephaestion’s eyes lose some of their strain, though he looks away. “And yet you are king, not I. This was never meant to be my domain. The gods chose your line, not mine.”

“Perhaps not yet,” Alexandros allows. “But one day it will be. As I said before.”

He has no doubt about that.

There are several long moments where he waits, expectant, and then Hephaestion sighs. “As always, I will serve your will.”

Alexandros nods in approval. “Good.”

“I still worry, though, that your utter certainty in your will may someday be misplaced.”

“Nonsense. I am a god, remember?”

“In your own mind, perhaps.”

“Blasphemy,” Alexandros says with affection, curling his fingers into the hair at the name of Hephaestion’s neck and pulling him close. “You have called me god on more than one occasion.”

Whatever the response to that might be is cut off as he fits their lips together, and then he knows nothing but the taste of his beloved.

He startles awake, the ghost of lips upon his own.

His skin tingles and burns, like it’s been stretched around an ill-fitting frame, and there’s a throbbing pressure behind his eyes.

“Where…?” he murmurs, examining his surroundings in confusion for a moment. The room is a far cry from the frescoed rooms and silken furniture he is used to, and the incense-thick air now replaced with something floral and false.

Worse than the disorientation is the fact Hephaestion has vanished.

Only as he jumps out of the bed where he was laying does reality return, hitting him like a crowbar to the head.

He’s not Alexandros—not anymore. He’s Jason, and this is Tim’s guestroom, and Tim is—

“Not here,” he realizes, whatever panic might have been brewing about his previous lives blurring with his current one vanishing with the realization. It’s like a vice clamps around his lungs, and unless he finds Tim, it won’t release.

Instantly he’s stumbled from the bed and across the room, throwing open the door in a hurry. He bursts into the hallway, frantic eyes flitting wildly until he spots Tim standing at the other end. He is framed in a doorway, deep in discussion with—

Blondie is on the stairs beside him—too near, way too near!—and Jason’s already moving.

Before he’s even aware of it, he has Tim wrapped in his arms, has his face buried in his neck and breathes in the scent of him that is somehow so different and yet so similar to how it once was beneath blood and sand and time.

Tim stands stock still, bearing up under the sudden onslaught remarkably well. Jason is a full five inches taller than him and considerably bulkier; Jason can feel him bracing himself beneath him.

“Sorry,” he says immediately and pulls away.

“Don’t be,” Tim says, clearly working to keep his voice level and pretend he is unaffected. He clears his throat. “It’s on the list.”

Jason rubs the back of his head, uncomfortable. “Guess I should probably take a look at that then maybe.”

They’re both trying and failing to avoid each other’s gaze until there’s a cough beside them.

Jason suddenly recalls Steph’s presence—which comes along with a long-buried piece of information that’s never bothered him until now. Namely that she and Tim dated.

On the tails of that fact is irrational anger, because in this time, she has a prior claim on him. And she’s never made any bones about disliking him. Who’s to say she isn’t here to take Tim away from him in the name of protecting him?

Which is both exactly what he wants and also ground for him to rip her throat out.

His lip curls reflexively and he looms closer to Tim. “Problem, Blondie?”

“Yep,” she says easily, the forced calm of someone trying to negotiate a hostage release. Her mouth is pulled into a sharp smile, eyes cool. “But not the one you think I have.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you’re both being ridiculous,” Tim interrupts, a shade too loud and with a glare in Steph’s direction. That, more than his words, causes Jason to relax a little; if Tim’s annoyed with her, he’s less likely to let her drag him off somewhere. “Jason, I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. I had to speak to Damian, and then Steph showed up…” He shakes his head in apology. “Did you at least get some rest?”

“A bit,” Jason says though it’s a lie. “Speaking of the bat brat, where is he?”

“Went back to the manor.”

There’s a lot more relief in his voice than the usual that comes with Damian making an exit.

There’s a sudden blare of music from Steph’s pocket, some pop thing that Jason’s probably heard on the radio or in a movie or something. Digging it out, she barely glances at the number before her previously hard expression blooms into a smile.

“It’s Cass,” she tells Tim. “Mind if I step into the other room, or do I have to worry about wandering hands while I’m out of earshot?” she drawls.

“Very funny,” he grumbles as she does just that.

Jason’s brows draw together, wary; it almost sounds as if Steph is…joking about all this. Not getting ready to split them up or say something disapproving that might hurt Tim. Which…is not what he was expecting.

“Did I miss something while I was asleep?” he asks.

“No!”

“Yeah, that was a little too quick to be believable, baby bird.”

“We just established a few things is all. So if you’re worried about Steph, don’t be.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning she won’t say anything. She’s an ally.” At Jason’s derisive snort, Tim glowers. “She covered for you—for us at the Cave. So no one else knows.”

Jason stares at him without comprehension for a moment and then remembers, and his neck and cheeks warm.

The kiss.

“Right.” He swallows. “Guess Bats wouldn’t be too comfortable with us hanging out if he knew about that, huh?”

“I don’t care if he’s comfortable or not,” Tim says with stubborn venom. “The particulars of this situation is no one’s business but ours. It’s enough B’s keeping us benched, he doesn’t get to dictate this too.”

The fierce expression is the same one he wore earlier in the Cave when he was standing up to Bruce, and Jason once again experiences that overwhelming need to pull him close and continue playing out the scene of his dream in real-time.

This time he’s able to rein it in, but it’s a tenuous thing.

“Consider this whole thing’s about us, I have no intention of staying completely out of the investigation,” Tim goes on, thankfully unaware of the direction of Jason’s thoughts. “If anyone’s going to figure all of this out, it’s going to be us.”

“Well, you’ve got me convinced,” he says around the dryness of his mouth.

“Not that that takes much lately right?” Tim quips, lightly teasing in a way that makes Jason have to fight down an embarrassing sound in his throat. “Anyway, on that note, there’s food downstairs if you want to eat. Then I want to get back to the mainframe and do some more research for the case.”

“I’m fine,” Jason says, even though his stomach feels like a bunch of razor blades scraping around inside.

He distantly recognizes the feeling from many sleepless, hungry nights on the street, but somehow it doesn’t really bother him just then. It’s the same way the lack of sleep has felt like an afterthought until Tim forced him to lie down. His interest in anything seems to have become directly proportional to what Tim thinks about it.

Which the other man seems to have figured out as well because he narrows his eyes and indicates Jason should follow him down to the kitchen and the table with several brightly colored containers of Chinese take-out.

“Eat,” he commands.

Jason bristles. “You know, just because I’m slightly obsessed with you right now doesn’t mean you get to boss me around.” Tim raises an eyebrow, and there’s that reflex almost-whimper building in his throat that he must cough to get rid of. “I’m eating because I have a girlish figure to maintain and no other reason.”

“Of course,” Tim agrees, clearly knowing different.

The food, like the nap, doesn’t satisfy the way it usually might; there’s no relief in it, even though Jason knows it will help keep his strength up and not just because Tim said so.

He’s always felt a need to keep Tim happy when he was Patroklus and Hephaestion, but it was never under the compulsion he is now. There was always the freedom to refrain from something he disagreed with or stand up to schemes he didn’t agree with.

As pissed off as he is about Eros infecting him and ensuring his over-the-top fixation with Tim, it could be a lot worse. At least Tim would only take advantage to ensure he’s taking care of himself.

Which is ironic considering how bad he is at taking care of himself.

On their way back to the Nest, Steph returns from her phone call.

“So what was your uber-secret phone call about?” Tim wants to know.

“Lots of things I’m not telling you or your overgrown puppy there,” she quips with an irreverent grin. “Also, she’s flying in as soon as possible.”

“To help us, or help you mock the situation?”

“Why can’t it be both?”

Tim groans. “As if things weren’t bad enough…”

“Oh, relax, Ex-Boyfriend, if you can’t laugh at a situation, what can you?”

Jason growls at the words, earning a startled glance from Steph. Tim catches on quick, because he says, “You might want to watch your words for a bit, Steph. I don’t think Jason’s got the capacity to interpret certain jokes just now.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” she agrees with a frown.

“Also, unless you intend to be useful, maybe go away,” Jason suggests with false cheer.

“Jason…”

“No, he’s right,” Steph interrupts, mouth thinning. “I’m just here to keep an eye out, but I didn’t sign up to be abused. If I wanted that I could’ve stayed in the Cave babysitting Dick. I thought you guys would at least be more fun.”

“Steph, it’s not his fault—”

“This week,” she accuses. “What’s his excuse for the rest of the time?”

“Lingering trauma.”

Tim groans at Jason’s retort, and Steph rolls her eyes. “And we’re back to the death jokes. Get some new material, Zombie Boy.”

“Would you both stop it!” Tim demands. “This is even less amusing than it usually is.”

Jason’s shoulders hunch; he feels instantly reprimanded and terrible for upsetting Tim. Steph doesn’t look quite as abashed, but her tense stance relaxes and she sighs.

“Fine. This is me, letting it go. For now.” They pause in front of the secret door as Tim reaches for the panel. “I’m going to commandeer your training room for a bit. See how much range of motion I still have.” She moves her injured arm gingerly. “Keep the comms open so if there’s any trouble I know to come help.” She jabs an index finger at the two of them. “And no smooching noises.” 

“Why? Jealous?” Jason jeers.

“Hardly,” she snorts. “Remember, I’ve kissed him more than you have.”

A film of green fury seems to pass across his vision and Jason lurches forward. His fist is already flying toward her, missing it’s mark only due to the fact that Steph has excellent reflexes and because Tim’s wrapped his arms around him from behind.

“Jason, no! Stop it!”

“Come on, Tim, this time she deserves it,” he whines.

“She deserves…something…” Tim grunts, trying to dig his heels into the ground. “But you…don’t hit…women…”

Something icy slides down the length of Jason’s spine in realization because…Tim’s right. He doesn’t hit women—at least, not unless he’s in a life or death situation facing off with a rogue or unscrupulous woman like Suzie Su who can take the hit. And he’s never lashed out at a woman just based on his own fury.

How could he forget something so fundamental to his principles? All because of a bit of teasing he’d probably just answer with snark on a normal day?

It’s getting worse, isn’t it?

His stomach twists, and he suddenly wants to throw up every bit of food he just ate.

Jason sags back on his heels, kept up only because Tim is still bolstering him from behind. As the inexplicable rage vanishes to be replaced by guilt and shame, he sees that Steph now looks trouble.

“I’m sorry,” she says, voice subdued. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Neither did I,” Jason croaks. He wants to flee—to stalk off and get away from everything about this situation. But the warmth of Tim’s arms around him is a more convincing argument against that, countering every one of his normal coping mechanisms.

And as comforting as it is to know Tim is there to support him, Jason can’t help feeling utterly trapped.

⁂⁂⁂

I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn’t something you’re comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels 🤯mind blown 🤬god damn cliffhanger 😫 whyyyyyyy?!?!?

To Be Continued

[batb1tch]

It’s my boy’s birthday so here are some Jason Todd head-canons 🎉

Probably 3rd to last (Alfred and Bruce) on the list of ‘understanding internet slang’ in the household. He died and just sort of fell behind on the times (including memes, pop culture references,etc..) I know he’s known for making snarky quips and sarcastic comments but I have no doubt his siblings would call him out on his outdated references. It’s likely it’d really piss him off too like, knowledge is really everything to this kid and here he is with a group of teenagers who are always on top of shit (Steph, Tim, Duke, even Dick) and he doesn’t know what they’re talking about the majority of the time. Can’t figure out how to use Twitter or Snapchat and he does not have the patience to learn. It’s a genuine sore spot for him regardless of the humorous side.

Has an inner city accent that will never leave him. Still pronounce “on” like “awn” and frequently drops his r’s (which Bruce acts like he hates but really he finds it endearing.) Drops his “ing”s like “nothing” is “nothin.”

Fantastic chef, learned from the best. Very good at making something out of nothing and making it last. Steph has been showing him how to can things like fruit and vegetables. She’s basically just enabled his doomsday prepping behavior.

Speaking of, if you think Bruce is bad with the backup plans (yes there is always a b c d — z) where do you think Jay got it from? Absolutely anal about planning and contingencies. Has a backup for his backups.

Has a small hoard of books hidden in an end-table back at one of his safe houses. His favorite classics (mostly gifted by Bruce.)

Loves the smell of paper.

Definitely could use them but refuses to get glasses. Babs teases him for his squinting when she gets the chance.

“Just join the club book-worm, promise it won’t ruin your badass reputation.��

Jason ~squinting~ “I’d rather die....again.”

Collects cool bookmarks.

Definitely names his guns.

Favorite meal is literally any Spanish/Mexican dish followed by a good chili dog & a coke.

Can pack away enough food to feed a horse and keep going, not even Bruce knows how he does it. Alfred acts like he’s a pain in the ass to cook for but loves feeding him anyways. “You’ll eat us out of house and home someday my dear boy, good god.”

While we’re at it, he is 100% taller and wider than Bruce. You might think it makes Bruce a bit uncomfortable when standing right next to him (I mean...it does lol) but he absolutely loves when Jay throws his weight around because the malnourished string-bean of a child that he met on the street could now powerlift a small automobile and he is so fucking proud and happy that he grew up to be big and healthy (that he managed to grow up AT ALL mind you) how could he be mad? He probably tears up at the dinner table after Jay fills his plate for 4th time that evening and still intends to stay for dessert because he loVES HIM.

His feet definitely hang off the end of his bed by like, the shins because his room only has a full compared to everyone else’s king/queen. It never got upgraded when he hit puberty (because he was dead) and then he wouldn’t let anyone change it once he came back because that’s his bed “don’t fucking touch it I still fit just fine.” (Even though he’s like 22 and there’s a dip in the mattress that could put the Grand Canyon to shame.)

Still has a picture of Catherine hidden away. Visits her grave on the anniversary and always brings her favorite flowers (Lillie’s.)

His hands get cold really easily and they’re always dry/calloused.

Snores. Loudly.

The Lazarus pit did NoT heal his autopsy scar that shit is there for life and it is big and it is ugly. He doesn’t like taking his shirt off because of it and the look on Bruce’s face when he sees it could strip wallpaper.

Stopped dying the lock of white hair on his head.

Has spring allergies that turn him into a giant snotting watery eyed whiny baby.

He’s claustrophobic and not a fan of the dark. It’s why his helmet has night vision.

(While we’re at it, that helmet has to be the equivalent of like, iron mans on the inside. Definitely has built in comms, scopes, analysis systems, navigation, etc etc. the WORKS. whICH he designed and created himself because he’s brilliant.) (Actually Roy might have helped a little but don’t tell him that.)

Has a work-in-progress bike in the cave that hasn’t been finished for over 2 years and it will never be finished because he uses it as an excuse to hangout and spend time with Bruce. Drives Steph crazy to see it sit there but she gets it.

During his first Thanksgiving with Bruce and Alfred he cried for 15 minutes before dinner (which he’s still embarrassed about to this day) and then ate until he literally puked. He hasnt missed many Thanksgivings since he died.

TERRIBLE at 1st-person-shooters and super pissed about it.

“That’s not even realistic, an HK-416 doesn’t even have a 200 round drum. It’s bonkers! It’s madness Tim!”

“Shut the fuck up Jason you haven’t even been facing the right way since we started.”

(He’ll stick to Space Invaders and Mario fuck you very much.)

Really good at piano. Bruce asked him to start playing seriously when he moved in because “learning a musical instrument teaches self -discipline and versatility” but really it’s because one day during his Robin years Jay sat down and started plinking on the keys to a song he learned at the public youth-center on the “old shitty out of tune” wood one they had and it just happened to be a song Martha used to play Bruce all the time. He wanted to hear it fill the halls again.

Gets in a screaming match with Bruce nowadays and instead of lighting up one of Penguin’s underground casinos (like he might of used to 👀) he’ll disappear for a month to cool down. You can always tell when he gets over it though because he sends the family a postcard from wherever he is in the world. (Alfred puts them all on the fridge.)

Pit symptoms used to (and occasionally still do) include horrific night terrors, black-out rage, and brief moments of hallucinations or flashbacks. He had to relive the period of time shortly after he was pulled out through graphic and warped recollections (typically after not getting enough sleep or engaging in physical altercations.) He really only started to work through this after Ducra had suggested keeping a log and writing down everything he could remember. After a time he was able to piece together the things he had experienced or done (mostly to others) and as awful and horrible as knowing may have been, he could at least start to move on.

The more time he spent with Damian after he came back the more he could remember as well. He will occasionally speak to him in Arabic & not even realize he’s doing it (which scares the pants of Dames, himself, and Bruce.)

He does feel closer to the little gremlin because of it though. Talia likely had him as a baby with her the majority of the time after he was born and Jay was recovering/training, so he spent a substantial amount of time with both of them.

Bruce bought him a kindle for Christmas one of the first years he was back and he was (and still is but don’t tell the old man that) elated.

Occasionally mumbles in his sleep, usually in a variety of languages.

He does smoke, mostly only when he gets stressed out (because everyone reams him for it otherwise.) You’d think it’s a rebellious street kid thing but it’s actually because Catherine used to smoke the same brand and the smell reminds him of her.

His shoe size is a 13.

The time shortly after he crawled out of his own grave he could see ghosts (and I’m talking straight up dead people.) He can’t recall much of this or the time spent actually deceased (even after his dunk in the pit) but even now he’ll see things move out of the corner of his eye or get cold chills or feel like he’s being watched. When he hasn’t slept for like, 4 days and is bordering on manic depressive and harmful behavior, he starts seeing them again. Constantine prob finds him real interesting.

My guess is that he did see Catherine when he died but overall ended up in some sort of purgatory-like state which he can’t recall.

When he blushes it’s the hollows of his cheeks, back of the ears and neck and all the way down the front of his chest. The autopsy scar shows up white against it.

Has those hands that no matter how many times he washes them the oil/gun cleaner doesn’t come out of the cracks. Looks like a mechanic.

Tends to wear thicker work/type clothing like carhart fireproof pants and boots. Obviously his jacket too.

Not a fan of cold weather at all. His nose and cheek get really red and he shivers (as unmanly as that is)

OCD. His apartments are spotless, weapons and ammunition categorized and logged, etc.

Had asthma as a child and sort of grew out of it but sometimes his endurance suffers as an adult because of it.

Has this particular phone case 💀

[cyclone-rachel]

Oops, my hand slipped.

———–

“Why is Brainy coming with us again?” Clark asked. The three of them were flying to the Hall of Justice where Robin and his friends found something.

“Because Bruce said he found something that might interest Brainy,” Kara answered, with a smile on her face, “plus I invited him before Bruce even said anything about wanting Brainy.”

“But do we need him to come now? Why couldn’t he wait until after we figured out if this thing was a threat or not?”

Kara gave an exaggerated sigh and turned towards Querl. “I’m sorry about him. Sometimes he can be a little….”

“Hard headed, inpatient, doesn’t ask for help when he clearly needs it,” Querl laughed causing Kara to laugh and Clark to grumble.

“Yeah that. He can be impossible too,” Kara pointed out.

“That is true. I remember the times where we brought him to the future to help him become Superman. Those days I remember having a headache that wouldn’t go away,” Querl teased.

“Oh now this I have to hear.”

“How about no. I cringe just thinking about my teenage years,” Clark said, making a face.

“Okay yeah that’s. I’ll just ask Brainy later.” Clark shot his cousin a glare and all Kara could do was smile.

After that though, they flew in silence until they reached the Hall of Justice.

“Alright Bruce, what is it that you couldn’t tell me over the phone,” Clark asked after they landed and found him in a room he’s never seen before.

“Robin found this lab while we were out and it seems that Cadmus has been hiding something,” Bruce started to explain. He walked over towards a cryopod, he pressed a few buttons and the door revealed a sleeping boy. “From what I can gather, he’s a Super-Brainiac clone hybrid teen. We’re still not sure how they had gotten your DNA Clark, or how they made him into a Brainiac. But I figured this was something you two needed to see.”

“Brainiac must have helped with this,” Kara suggested, watching Querl walk closer to the cryopd. “Though I’m not sure how he found Cadmus or if they found him first.”

“There is a possibility that he found them and gave them this idea,” Querl inputted. “Has anyone woken him up yet?” he asked Bruce while studying him closely. He did look a lot like Clark and he could faintly see Brainiac in his features. Only if he was looking for it.

Bruce shook his head and walked towards the computer to grab a USB. “Not yet. We weren’t sure what he would do when he’d wake up.”

“Good call. And we’re going to keep it that way,” Clark said as if it was final. Querl whipped his head around to stare at him in shock.

“You can’t be serious Clark,” Querl stuttered out. “That would be torture for him.”

“It’s not torture if he’s not conscious,” he pointed out, “and we don’t need another Brainiac raging war on Earth.”

“It would be torture to a Brainiac,” Querl pointed out, “and you don’t know if he’ll be evil or not.”

“And I don’t intend to find out either. He’s staying in the cryo-pod and that’s final.”

Querl didn’t want to argue with one of his hero’s he admires, but this was something he didn’t want to stand aside. The child deserves a second chance and who better to give it to then himself?

“I’ll take him in,” Querl said before Clark could close the door,

“What?“

“I’ll take him in and teach him, train him to do good in the world,” he repeated.

While they argued over why that was a good idea, the boy in the cryo-pod woke up and looked around confused.

Kara was the only one to see this and quickly moved towards him. “Don’t be afraid, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m Kara, do you have a name?”

The teenage boy shook his head. “Sorry I just, I don’t remember.”

“That’s okay. We can take it slow.” Kara helped him out of the pod and sat him down on a chair. She’s not sure what it was, if it was the look in his eyes or that fact that he was still a child. But whatever it was, she was determined to help this boy.

“I’ll help with Brainy.” Kara’s statement caught the attention of everyone in the room. And only then did they realize that the boy was awake and aware.

“Kara are you insane?”

“Maybe,” she said with a shrug, “but Brainy had gotten a second chance Clark. Why can’t he get one too? Plus, who better to teach him what he can do then Brainy and I? Brainy can teach him about his AI side and I can teach him about his super-side.”

Clark was about to argue that this was a bad idea. But the look of determination in both their eyes and the confused look on the boys face, he sighed. “Okay. Okay! You two win,” he conceded, “but if anything bad happened that he’s involved, he’s being sent away.” But the two understood what he meant and Kara shuddered.

Kara shared a look Querl and made a silent promise to each other that they would be the best role models this kid deserves.