#he was five foot five and all i could think about was tim drake | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theogygiaisland · 2 years

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You know what, fuck it- PACIFIC RIM AU: Batfamily edition

Characters: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Damian Wayne, Duke Thomas, Barbara Gordon, Stephanie Brown

Warnings: Teen (13+)

Categories: Action, Found Families, Angst, Fluff

Words: 4,223 words

Read on: AO3

They call them 'The Crazies'. Dick calls them family.

Across any universe- it was always them versus the world.

The PPDC calls them the crazies. Dick calls them family.

The jaeger he pilots slaps its hands together in anticipation, neural handshake 100% stabilized and drones deployed.

“This is the Belting Robin.” Cass says in her comm-pod. “Ready to engage.”

Command grunts an acknowledgement.

The Category-4 kaiju crawls out of a Breach and roars.

Across any universes, it was always them versus the world.

–

A Medic insults Jason. He doesn't even flinch.

"And I thought you were good." Damian snides as he wipes the floor with Tim. Jason throws the nearest object, an escrima stick, and gives Damian a concussion.

–

Damian would look at his father, see the radiation poisoning of the mark 1, that leaves him weak. He would use his cane getting to places, adamant and too stubborn to acknowledge his dwindling health, and the advanced wheelchairs Babs had made specifically for him. Bruce would lie. Say he doesn’t feel sick despite the nose bleeds. Say he isn’t getting a migraine as if he didn’t pop a mefenamic acid behind closed doors.

Sometimes it was hard to see the man who was able to push back the kaiju invasion back to the western seaboard. The man who, during the initial attacks that claimed multiple countries unaware and multiple lives in a single week – including his mother, strapped himself into a prototype death machine that wasn’t fully developed to withstand the radiation coming from jaeger cores. He says it was a matter of his duty to protect people.

Damian wonders how much that was a lie too. He knows Bruce still kept his mother’s photo on his nightstand. The photo was old. The teardrops were always new.

“Damian, come here.” Bruce asks him as they walk past the hanger.

He counts one, two, three , four, five jaegers getting maintenance repairs. He spots the melted armor on the Striking Onyx (they should’ve stuck to long range for an Otachi type), the loose bolts of the Belting Robin (the scientists really should develop better shock absorbers for lithe combatants, and more defenses in the Drivesuit), and the gaping hole that was Red Chemo’s left arm (Damian admits he finds no fault, it was better to lose an arm to a Raiju than a head).

The rest were either decommissioned or training jaegers he does not particularly care about– including his father’s Black Menace.

“Who will patrol with all of the jaegers under maintenance?” He asks Father. Under their catwalk, he could see the pilots lounging around in sweats, laughing as one of the older men lands a backflip from the jaeger’s foot and into the proximity of an agitated medic.

“These are still operational– they’ve fought with worse conditions.” Bruce replies, not acknowledging the frustrated arguments and bellowing laughter below. “But the latest findings of the Breach shows that there wouldn’t be anything the Lanterns Corps can’t fend off in the meantime. They’re stationed down south, but our helicopters can get them into a fight within the hour. But this isn’t why I asked you here.”

Bruce turns his gaze to his son and Damian stands, back rigid.

“Damian, I know you’ve gone into the Academy because you felt like I wanted you here. Just know that this is a profession that’s going to take over your life. You’re not going to experience the world the way others do–” ( Too late for that, Damian thinks) “– and I want you to know that, son. My life should not be your life too.”

“I understand the repercussions, Father. I won’t let you down.” Of course he wouldn’t. Damian excelled in everything he touches. He was the youngest graduating cadet in history , and that’s why he was here , in an actual Shatterdome, and not behind the lines doing something trivial like algebra .

Hopeful eyes peer at him. Are you proud of me?

“Don’t let the mission down, son. I’m happy to have you in the team when you’re ready.” Bruce shares with him a small smile and plants a hand on Damian’s shoulder. And in his eyes, Damian knows the truth.

Under them, there was a sound of metal crashing and someone cursing and then running.

“Well, only if the team learns to behave.” Bruce says, leaning over the railing. The commotion stops.

That evening, before Damian closes his eyes, he thinks, no Father, I didn’t go into the academy because you wanted me here– I wanted you. I wanted to be here, like you. For mother.

–

Jason catches Tims eye with the one that isn’t swollen shut and huffs out.

“Fine.” He grits out. “We can try to drift. Hope you die.”

In return, Tim shoots him a bloody smile.

After a brief shouting match with the doctor and a stern lecture from the head honcho Bruce Wayne himself, Jason learns he has a compatible mindlink.

When they’re done, Jason feels hope that Tim doesn’t listen to him and start living.

–

Duke’s first words in operating Striking Onyx was “This is so fucking cool !”

Steph laughs at his face, which usually would cause him to blush scarlet, but their link assures him it’s all about laughing with him.

This feeling will never get old , her mind brushes against his. For that he’s grateful, and he feels her acknowledging it.

And it’s nice. Knowing someone’s got your back and you’ve got theirs. He knows it’s not easy, but Stephanie besides him radiates it.

‘If you fall, I’ll catch you ’ is written in her eyes.

“Now, remember what we practiced, Duke.”

“Let’s go!”

–

Steph thinks she knows Tim inside and out. They were like a pair of socks, old and worn. Built together by neural handshakes and closed Academy doors. He was hers, and she was his. Me and mine.

But the brawler in the jaeger on screen, together with Jason of all people– that man is not Tim. He's brutal. Efficient. Blazing fury like the cannon that leaves a gaping wound on the kaiju's chest, and cold like the knife that impales itself after. No flairs, no twists, no laughter in the deck as the monster clumps down and the kaiju signature blinks out of the technician panel. Only grunting, and snarls, fighting like a monster in a corner.

Of course there wasn’t any of those, she reminds herself. This isn’t their Glitter Chrome.

A snarl rips through the radio feed as another signature pops up on the radar.

“Incoming!”

“This is Command to Red Chemo. You are operating on a 10% power cell charge. Retreat now and we’ll send out Striking Onyx. I repeat, retreat–”

She thinks she knew Tim inside and out.

“This is Red Chemo to Command.” Tim’s voice fills the air. “No, we will not. Just get them extracted. We can hold the kaiju back.”

The jaeger from the feed moves into a fighting stance, because this is Red Chemo, it’s their best tank in the division– their only tank on the Californian line– and the only one between the fallen jaeger on the field and a Category-4 kaiju. And Red Chemo is nothing but a metal bottle of bullheaded danger .

“Command to Red Chemo I repeat, retreat now. This is Command to Red Chemo– retreat now– Jason! Tim! Dammit !” Bruce rips off his headset and looks over to her. “Get Duke and I want Striking Onyx out there NOW! ”

She nods, because what else is there for her to do. In the background, the jaeger grapples a monster and struggles. Hand to hand. Full out brawling with closed fists and thrown bodies.

This was not the Tim she knows.

Their failed neural handshake should've been her first clue.

–

“Bruce, are you sure I can pilot this? Don’t you think I’m not ready?”

Dick was a happy child. His family consisted of Martha, the bearded lady, and Juan the fire breather, and Zitka the elephant and Haley, and Denise and Jose, and a whole rotating cast of aunts and uncles, acts and presentations. His childhood was full of life, and of people. And Dick– Dick felt content being the center of it all.

And then his parents fell.

It was the first attack just off the coast of the Atlantic. They were doing their routine for a bigtop full of people, and Dick was ready to swing in from the other side and into the awaiting grin of his mother’s face until the Knifehead kaiju rips open the tent like a can of sardines, taking his parents with it.

Dick could remember the paralyzing fear watching the monster chomp down on the tent like bubblegum. He remembers his own platform shaking, and then of falling–

And then of Bruce Wayne catching his fall.

And from there it was going through different orphanages, until Bruce came back for him, offers him a chance at the Academy. Offers him a chance to be alive through giving him purpose.

Bruce smiles. “You’re born in the sky chum. And I bet you can lead them out with you.”

Bruce not only gives him a reason to carry on, he gives him a family.

And standing in the Drivesuit on the shoulder of this giant of a mech, with his sister by his side, Dick believes him. Hope blossoms in his center, like his own radioactive core, and it’s one radiation he wishes that would spread.

–

Steph places a hand on Tim's arm.

"Tim, please. Red Chemo's new- not yet fully operational. Your handshake with Jay- he's good, and so are you. But it's untested with the jaeger. Please. This isn't me saying you're not good. This is me saying I need you safe." For me at least.

Before, Tim would've listened. Felt her anxiety. Knew where she was coming from.

Tim now only looks down. "I have to Steph."

–

Wake up, wake up! I won’t let you do this. I WON’T!

Despite everything, Damian hopes by the side of the bed.

–

She would watch the others train, waiting for her turn on the mats. They were supposed to practice coordination on the bars today, but her partner is late. Dick was almost never late, but she could feel the traces of fatigue in his bones even after their link. He could use the rest some more– training be damned.

“Cain.” Damian greets her in his full cadet uniform. She smiles at him brightly. “I need you to teach me more about aerial maneuvers.”

“Hi.” Cass tilts her head. “Why do you want to learn about it?”

“Your mark 7 jaeger–”

“The Belting Robin.”

“– the Belting Robin– it’s one of the first prototype jaegers. When I graduate from training exercises with Atlas, I want to operate on one just like it. It’s light and it’s well equipped for fast offense that we need to push kaiju and take over the Western Seaboard. But it’s biggest caveat is that it’s sleek design gives way to defense and thus needs a lighter fighter who could out class even a Slattern’s tentacles and so wouldn’t take a hit–”

She hooks her foot on his ankle and pulls . Damian scowls at her from the floor.

“Less theoretical and more practical now.” She grins at him, nodding to the uneven bars on the overhang. “Rule number 1. Be born to fly.”

His scowl lessens marginally and Cass was pretty sure that’s his way of smiling.

–

Jason didn’t want another co-pilot, thank you very much. After his last one– Roy– he couldn’t see clearly above the seething anger in him whenever someone even mentions replacing his partner.

But of course Bruce fucking Wayne does not care.

“So you’re the replacement.” Jason says, watching this willow of a man with stick arms and vines for muscles pass him in the corridor. They haven’t met officially, but Jason is known to be resourceful around a computer.

“You’re replacing mine too.” Tim– and that’s his name– says, blue piercing eyes looking him up and down which makes Jason feel vulnerable.

“Ah yes, only on your fourth mission and suddenly you couldn’t protect your partner enough to not have her knocked out? What a good teamplayer you are.” Jason asks, fists ready at his sides. “Yeah I read your file kid, little baby can’t do a little solo piloting without suddenly developing PTSD?”

Tim looks on, impassive, but Jason had sick glee watching him clench and unclench his fingers.

“Look, you don’t have to like me to drift with me. We get into a jaeger, we fight monsters, we go home. You don’t have to be an asshole about it.”

“Oh you think that’s what it takes to be a pilot for you?”

They both know it wasn’t just it. Drifting is all about trust– trust your partner can keep up and keep you alive. That’s why it’s so important, why some siblings just won’t fit together, why some partners just can’t drift . Piloting a jaeger is something vulnerable and important. It’s a bond stronger than friendships, it’s camaraderie, of brotherhood, of love.

And God does Jason miss it and miss Roy . He feels that grief of never being able to come back and be on field with him, takes it, and replaces it with the only way he knows how: with overflowing anger.

He will never be the same , the doctors said.

At least I’m not drooling into a cup , Roy joked.

He can never be Roy , his mind screams.

“I don’t want to fight you Jason. We don’t even know if we’re drift compatible.”

“Probably not because I’m not drifting with you.”

The fact that Tim keeps steady eye contact despite the venom in Jason’s tone makes his insides hot. Jason fumes.

“You are drifting with me. We’re both our last chance to go back on field.”

“No I’m not. Besides, I think ghost drifting wouldn’t be impossible if a snotty nosed brat like you can handle it, then I can too.”

“As if you can be any better. Tell me, is Roy’s arm still unresponsive?”

He punches Tim before he can think about it and feels bones crack under his knuckles. As he draws his fist back, he sees blood flowing down the kid’s face.

“Pretty boy can dish but can’t take huh?” Jason taunts.

Tim scoffs. “Pretty boy ain’t done yet.” And headbutts Jason in the eye .

Jason rolls over in shock more than in pain. Tim jumps to his feet and knees him in the stomach. Jason retaliates by catching a second kick and twisting the ankle and making Tim fall. Tim ‘s other foot catches him by the chin and–

“ENOUGH! ”

Medics surround them, yelling, frustrated, angry.

–

"You learned that from Steph." Cass notes, as she releases Duke.

"She's quite the fast brawler. I felt her- in my head. That kick spin was what she used when she got cornered when she was young."

Cass smiles, all teeth and pink gums. "Good. You'll need to learn fast."

“I heard you’re taking lessons on aerial maneuvers from Cass.” Dick tells him one day as he sun bathes on the roof in one of those rare sunny day.

“I am.” Damian replies.

“Are you hoping to replace me as partners with Cass?”

“No– I– Why’d you think so?”

Dick laughs, not seeing the offense in the statement. A lot of pilots would punch you in the face for even thinking about poaching their co-pilot. Instead, he lounges back parallel to him, eyes covered by an arm slung over his face.

“It’s happened before– look at Steph and Tim.”

“Whatever happened to Drake and Brown was…unfortunate, but I don’t see a point in your asking.”

“I’m just saying. I wouldn’t mind.” Dick says.

“Why?”

“Well, for one, it means Cass makes it out alive.”

“Don’t say that–”

“It’s a possibility, Dames, and it’d be an honor to have you take my place.” Dick says, staring at him intently that Damian has to look away.

“Okay.”

“But don’t you worry lil’D, I’ll be here for a long time so don’t get your hopes up just yet.”

–

Wayne’s elites were whispered about in the hallways for their efficiency and their ruthlessness on this side of the country. They were the battalion that were first to the scene, with the highest success rates in missions and lowest casualties of jaegers. As the latest recruit, he was half excited for the chance to operate his own jaeger and half terrified with everything else.

He doesn’t understand how Cass has managed to squirrel alcohol in his room, nor how everyone just knew where to converge tonight, but at this point he doesn’t seem to care.

“Why are you all here?” Duke asks.

“Well, we’ve managed to get ourselves kicked out of almost every bar in San Francisco.” Tim says.

“I checked. Still banned.” Cass replies.

Duke puts a pin on that since that was a whole can of worms he did not want to tackle right now.

“I mean in the jaeger corps. They brought me in because they found me scavenging a carcass.” Duke says to no one in particular, legs draped somewhere over the tangle of bodies on the floor. He didn’t particularly keep track of it– despite knowing it’s on something too firm to be a pillow and too soft to be the floor. No one particularly cared enough to voice it out. In his head, he remembers the blue that tainted his fingers, searching for scraps to get by. “I had nowhere to go.”

“By carcass, you mean kaiju or…”

“Kaiju, God Dick what else would I scavenge?”

Dick just shrugs and grins.

“Mine was either fuckin’ jail time for being a street urchin or this– though I don’t think they knew I was a particular flavor of crazy until it was too late. I raise to one cleanup duty.”

“Don’t worry Jay, you make our neural handshake spicy .” Tim says, downing his gin shot. “Besides, I think everyone here’s a little bit fucked in the head to operate the way we do. I got here because I was apparently too manipulative for the military.”

“We can't all be high and mighty either, could we? Sense of duty my ass , I’m just here because dear old dad wanted me to direct my rage before I cut a bitch or start a gang war or something.” Steph nods over the cards in her hand.

“Are you okay?” Duke asks her.

“I’m just dandy, ranger.” She smiles brightly at him. Duke doesn’t know if the glint in her eye is because she’s laughing at her joke or at him. “And make that cleanup duty in the Drivesuit Jay, and you’re on. Call.”

Jason curses under his breath but nods and Tim deals out two more cards on Duke’s lap. One thing Duke learns is that there is no concept of personal space when it comes to these guys. Or for Poker.

“I didn’t want to share a bed in the orphanage after the initial strike. It was too crowded as it is, and then suddenly BAM! More orphans. Yay.” Dick says and Duke chokes on a laugh. “Apparently I had too short of a fuse and smiled too much.”

“Smiled too much?”

“I’d smile then throat punch someone. My bunkmate was an asshole.”

“Okay?”

“Even the Alaskan division is kinda weird with us, you know.” Tim continues, passing his shot glass to Jason who takes it without breaking eye contact with his hand. “I heard the Kents were adamant we kept to the South-Western Seaboard–”

“Yeah, yeah, they’re all just scared cause we got individual thought and shit and big bad Wayne can’t even keep us in line– whatever. I raise one full laundry day.”

“Fucking fine! I fold.”

Steph groans. Jason cackles. Tim looks on, bored with a glint in his eye and Duke could feel his lips twitch up.

“What is this?” Damian asks from across the room, sipping his drink and looking like he doesn’t particularly know if he likes it or not. “Why can’t you pass me the shot, Drake.”

“Kaiju milk.” Cass says, sipping her own bottle. “And you’re still underaged.”

“I’m eighteen. I didn’t know kaiju has milk.”

Duke plucks the shot glass from Jason’s hand– it was his turn already– and downs a shot. Dick wiggles from his spot on the ground and shifts the tangle of limbs.

Dick smiles. “Well apparently you’re not old enough to know what’s kaiju milk either.”

Cass looks over at Damian as he rolls his eyes and sends a wink. “It’s not really kaiju milk. You get it when you sneak up to the little Otachi types and you–”

“Okay! That’s enough discussion for today.” Steph says, jumping up and throwing half of the limbs off of her legs. Duke was pretty sure his left foot was on Steph’s thigh by how he falls sideways into Jason. “Duke, let’s ready up for patrol. Robins, relieve us after 5am, yeah? And Reds, just...behave.”

“It’s kaiju essence .” Duke stage whispers to Damian as the kid chokes on his drink and Steph throws him a half hearted glare. The rest of them– they just laugh and shoot him a grin.

He might feel a little out of place in this weird hodge podge of a battalion, but at least Duke knows he belongs.

–

“Negative Belting Robin, abort mission now. I repeat, abort mission now .” One part of the screen has Dick’s vitals flying everywhere.

On the other, Cass’ vitals are silent.

Babs types furiously on her desk. “Warhead is locked and ready to fire sir– proximity damage is inevitable– We can still retrieve the– Sir! Sir! On your orders!”

“Negative– Do not Ghost Drift, I repeat, DO NOT GHOST DRIFT DICK! ”

“Command I’m– Bruce. I’m sorry.”

An explosion rocks somewhere where Cherry Hill used to stand. Miles away, it rocks another person onto their knees.

“ Medic! Now!” Babs says but she looks on with dawning horror on her face.

–

Belting Robin passes them on their way back with a salute.

“So that was patrol, any questions?”

“Yeah, so why aren’t there kaiju during this time of night? Aren’t they like nocturnal?”

“No, they don’t really have a sleeping schedule that we know of. They just appear in the Breach and we couldn’t really get a chance to study them. As for the numbers… well we’re not too far off for another wave, all we’re doing now is just cleaning off the remaining ones from last month.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Steph says, stretching and making Duke and their jaeger stretch as well. Duke doesn’t know if the satisfaction was his own or Steph’s amplified one, but it did felt good. “Count your blessings Ranger, at least there’s haven’t been a Breach yet. If you want, we can even cut our patrol short and get us some chili dogs from the caf.”

“Uhm…”

“I’m joking. I’m really joking. Hey command, if you’re hearing this, I’m joking.”

A snort fills their earpieces. Duke was happy and tired that he might take the offer on after patrol–

Then the earth shakes. A Category-4 kaiju climbs out of the Breach.

“ Striking Onyx , pull back. You’re too inexperienced for a Cat-4. I repeat, Striking Onyx pull back .”

“Striking Onyx copies Command.” Duke says, eyes not straying away from the monster.

–

“Jason and Tim fought in the hallways. I think they’re benched.” Damian tells Dick. “So Striking Onyx is out for patrol now.”

Dick eyes the duo, who was lounging at the foot of Red Chemo , heads bent together in hushed whispers.

“You think they’re going to be a great team?”

Dick smiles as Tim catches him looking and doesn’t even have to tell Jason before the older man whips his head back and to their audience. With only one neural uplink between the two of them, it’s frightening how in sync they already were.

He’s been with Jason for years, training, learning, growing; and with what Steph has told him about Tim, Dick has a feeling they’re at least on the path to being a pair. Where Jason overflows, Tim catches. Where Tim lacks, Jason compensates. It’s, simply, basic math.

“I know so.” Dick tells Damian as Red Chemo walks nearer to them. “Hey guys, what’cha think about having a movie night? Cass has alcohol and we’ve yet to conquer Duke’s room.”

–

His arm bruns but Jason grits through it because Tim is a punch and a skip away from losing consciousness.

To be fair he’s got the longer end of the stick here– at least he still has his arm . The kaiju roars and Red Chemo snarls back, the pilots working in sync to punch back as hard as they took it. Red Chemo is a fucking tank built to last and goddammit they will .

“Shoulder blasters!” Tim yells and Jason grips the mouth of the kaiju open enough for the warheads to hit–

“Rest in fucking pieces!” Jason yells, adrenaline coursing through his veins. “You okay there Replacement?”

“We did it.” Tim whispers and promptly faints.

Jason was sure he was able to yell out for a medic one more time before his own vitals go crazy with the shut down.

We did it.

–

Tim remembers Glitter Chrome – he used to call her Glitz. He remembers it when he looks at Steph and smiles.

“Stop smiling and be somber.” She tells him. “You know, situations like these are why they call us crazies.”

“I know.”

The steady beeping fills the room, partly comfort in having retrieved both pilots from the wreckage of Belting Robin and partly dread for their future. They haven’t woken up .

The medic can’t give hope that they will. But Tim goddamn will hold on to it.

Steph sighs and leans back, letting her head drop over the backrest of her seat. “I remember when you were the one I had to visit in this room.”

“I know.”

“And I– I couldn’t feel you then.” Like I can’t feel you now , his mind supplies. “It was bad. But I’m glad you’re alive.”

“I know.”

“Do you think they’re going to push through?”

Tim smiles a little bit wider at her. Because he knows . He’s been there before. And that gives him hope, for Dick and Cass who’s yet to wake from their comas. For their own future. For their next jaegers .

They were siblings now by kaiju blood and their own tears, and the Wayne brotherhood were made of tougher things.

And in their team, their family, when hope is not given, they will take it by force .

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ms-starflower · 3 years

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Spook-tober Day 1 — Decorating

@maribat-october-rarepairs

So, technically, it’s October 2nd for almost two hour here, but it’s probably still the 1rst somewhere, right? Well, I don’t care anyway.

It’s my first time writing for an event (Maribat or otherwise) and I wanted to write both prompts for Spook-tober - Maribat Month and the Maribat Rare Pairs Month, but didn’t have time to start writing before 11pm.

This one's for Spook-tober, though it could also qualify as rarepair since it's a Stephinette (is that the correct shop name???), because Steph is my Queen (Cass too, but I wanted Steph today). Though they don't interact (yet) but I think I’ll write a follow up for other days' prompt, maybe (day 9 and 21, I’m looking at you,).

Anyway, let’s start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You sure you got the right address, miss?” The cab driver asked her with a skeptic expression. It would have been alright if the man hadn’t asked the same thing in at least twenty different ways during the ride.

“Yes, thank you Monsieur. I’m exactly where I wanted to be,” Marinette answered with a tight smile, like the twenty previous times. Giving him the money she owed him, she got out of the car to stand in front of the gigantic gate of Wayne’s Manor. The place was kind of intimidating.

Still hearing the car behind her when she reached the intercom, she turned toward it. The driver was shamelessly looking at her, probably waiting for her to get refused access.

“Are you waiting for something, sir?” She asked, tilting her head slightly.

“You’re gonna need a ride back, don’t ya? I’m already here, might as well,” he smiled at her with condescending amusement. Marinette was tempted to tell him that she would prefer to go back to the city on foot than to get into his car again. But her parents raised her better than that, so she only smiled politely.

“There is no need, sir, I really don’t know how long I’m going to stay here.”

“Yeah, right,” the man huffed, still staring at her.

Deciding to just ignore him, Marinette turned to push on the intercom’s only button. It took a minute before an elegant and accented voice responded.

“Hello, how may I help you?”

“Ah, hello sir. I’m Marinette, Jason asked me to come?”

“Indeed, Master Jason warned me to expect you.”

When the gate opened, Marinette made a point to turn around to smile and wave goodbye at the cab driver. She would cherish his dumbstruck expression for a long time.

Her victory was short lived, though, when she saw how long the march from the gate to the house was going to be. Jason better be on the brink of death. Or the world, she wasn’t picky.

When she finally got there, an old gentleman she thought might be Alfred was waiting for her.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, I’m Alfred, the family’s butler, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Alfred said with a kind smile and a nod.

“The pleasure is all mine, sir. And just Marinette is fine,” she told him kindly, walking into the house. “Jason is okay, right? He didn’t say why he wanted me here, and I have to admit that he got me worried.”

Jason had been determined to keep her as far away from his family as he could manage before, and the sudden change was really odd.

“I see,” Alfred said slowly, closing his eyes for a second. “Master Jason is alright, Miss Marinette, do not worry. He just… Well, why not let Master Jason explain the situation to you himself. If you would follow me.”

Marinette followed him for a couple minutes through a couple of corridors, before he opened the doors to… a battlefield.

She thought that, maybe, it was supposed to be a living room, but it was hard to say, under all those decorations. They were literally everywhere. Throwing on the couches, a couple of boxes were overturned in a corner, a couple of garlands of little cartoon ghosts hanging hazradly from the chandelier. It was a mess, but she could see that someone probably tried to… decorate? Maybe? It was a really bad job, though.

Jason and a man she assumed to be his brother were battling with a plastic pumpkin and a skeleton respectively, while two more men and a woman—probably also Jason’s siblings, she heard Bruce Wayne was kind of a serial adopter— were cheering on the sidelines and a brooding teenager was glaring at them. Everyone froze as soon as they realized that they weren’t alone anymore. Alfred only sighed, nodded at her before going back to where they came from.

“Hey! Pixie! Great, you’re here,” Jason exclaimed excitedly, letting go of the pumpkin he was shoving into his brother’s face and stauttered toward her.

“Jason, in the name of everything that’s holy, what the hell?” Marinette asked with a voice deceptively calm. She could see the woman and one of the men behind Jason wince at her tone. Good.

“Well, see, we wanna decorate the house for Halloween, now that it’s time—”

“Jason,” she interrupted incredulously. “We are in September!”

“Well, technically, it’s already October in Russia,” the man that had been fighting with Jason piped up.

“Yeah, what Timbers said,” Jason said with a serious nod while Marinette could only look at him in astonishment. “Anyway, Bruce said we can decorate all the room in the Manor like we wish if we can make this one presentable, without the help of Alfred. And I really want to make a cat theme for his bedroom, so I thought; hey, you know a designer…”

“I’m a fashion designer, Jason, not an interior designer!”

“Same difference, Pixie. You’re my only hope, all of them are hopeless in terms of good taste.”

Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose, ignoring the various protests from Jason’s sibling, before taking out her phone.

“So you proceeded to send me ‘Hey Pix,” she said, reading the message he sent her earlier with a bad imitation of his voice. “‘Need you at the manor asap, urgence lvl 3’ before ignoring me, making me think that the world was probably ending—”

“World ending is at least a lvl 5, Pix, come on,” Jason interrupted with an offended expression. She ignored him.

“—Forcing me to take a cab with a absolute jerk driver—”

“Why did you take a cab? You have a car!”

“Adrien took the car, he is visiting Chloé in New York. But that’s not the point. The point, Jason, is that all of that was because you needed me to help you decorate for a day that is literally in a month?”

“Hey, Halloween is a very important celebration,” Jason’s brother, the one that had been cheering the loudest, told her with a solemn expression.

“I’m French, I don’t care about Halloween,” she deadpanned.

“I’m sorry, what?” The one Jason had called Timbers, probably Tim Drake, looked pained at the very idea that someone could not be obsessed by Halloween.

“I mean, we used to make speciales and sales at the bakery, and I’ve been to a couple of costume parties, but we don’t really pay attention to Halloween until around the 25 of October.”

“That’s sacrilegious,” Jason said, and almost all the others agreed in a way or another.

“Maybe for you, Americans,” she told him with amusement. “But it doesn't change the fact that I’m not going to help you.”

What? Why?!” He exclaimed, his eyes widening.

“Because, one, I don’t have anything to gain from it,” she said, showing him one of her fingers before adding a second. “And two, do you know how long the walk between the cab and the door had been? And all of it just for decorations?”

“Aw, come on, Pix! Bruce is going to make Alfred judge, and I have projects for the cat theme!”

“There is nothing you can say that is going to make me change my—”

“Hey guys!” A cheerful voice suddenly interrupted her, the owner barging into the room like a whirlwind. The woman was slightly taller than her, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She had a beautiful smile that brightened the room and Marinette could feel the hearts that were making their way in her eyes. The girl was cute. Uh oh. “You are decorating already?! Cool! Be right back, let me just grab my stuff!”

Then she was gone, and Marinette could only blink slowly, before turning back toward Jason.

“Alright, I’m in.”

“What? Why— Oh, no, no, no! You’re not going to crush on Steph—”

“Oh, her name is Steph? What a lovely name,” she mumbled, looking back in the direction she disappeared. “But if you don’t want my help, I can just ask for her number and let you fend for yourself with the decorations, you know.”

“Pixie!” Jason complained, making his sibling laugh or snicker at him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fun fact: when Marinette says that France doesn't care about Halloween until around October 25th, I’m talking from personal experience. I don’t know if it’s the same in all of France, but I grew up in Paris’ region (It’s not Paris Paris, but it’s like, the places all around and we call it régions parisienne) and they don’t care about it. Where I live, the shops don’t start selling Halloween themed candy before, like a week (maybe two?? when they start early) before Halloween and the children rarely go trick or treating. (I lived in this house for ~five/six years, and I’ve never got a child knocking for candy on Halloween.)

Again, I’m not saying it was like that for everyone in France, maybe it was only my city, but I thought it funny to have this opposition between Marinette and the Batkids.

#MaribatHalloween21 #maribat #mlb x dc #platonic jasonette #stephinette

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

A Discowing at the Wayne Gala

Summary: Getting Jason to go to the Wayne Gala each year was more difficult than putting the Joker away in Arkham; he insisted the part was full of pretentious, rich social climbers who were horribly boring. As it turned out, all he really needed to persuade him was an upset, drunk girl rambling about how much she was going to deck her highschool enemies there to convince himself that he’d be in for a great show. (AKA the extremely chaotic and nonsensical salt/crack fic)

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“I, Mar--” she hiccupped, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng solemnly swear to rip Lila a new one with Discowing’s godawful costume.”

“You say it girl!” called some random person from across the bar.

“I will--” another hiccup “--use Batman’s Batmobile to run over Kim. And slam Red Hood’s ugly ass helmet onto Adrien’s stupid face.”

“Better yet,” Marinette pounded the table, “I will use their stupid utility belts to dismantle Gabriel’s empire. Somebody give me a yeah!”

“Yeah!”

All in all, the sight wasn’t that atypical for a bar in Gotham, if it weren’t for the fact that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was barely five feet, wore pigtails, and knocked five men on their asses when they tried to approach her.

“Take that, Hawkass,” she hissed. “Think you can pull a fast one on me when I’m drunk, do you? Well I’ve got news for you!”

Her words slurred together, and she leaned on the bar for support. “When I get my way, you’re going to be tied up into a pretzel and dumped into a volcano, then the tundra and then we’ll see how you like your stupid little jewlery touched.”

“Dupain-Cheng,” her blonde companion hissed. “Get yourself together. We don’t need another one of your breakdowns now. You know we’re going to be busy tomorrow night, and I don’t want to deal with you completely hung over all throughout the gala.”

“Aww,” Marinette squished her cheek onto Chloe’s “You know you love me.”

“Yes, yes, but I’m not going to tolerate this bullshit. If you want to make good on your plans, you need to be in tip top shape.”

“Ughhhh, why are they even invited to the stupid gala? It’s not even like they’re rich! Oh wait, I guess they are…” Marinette pressed her face to the bar, which was undoubtedly dirty. She reveled in it’s coolness, brushing her bangs out of her face. “And why do you have to be right? I guess I have to stop drinking if I want to make any of my plans work.”

“Your plans will work, hungover or not. It’s just a question of how much you’ll be able to enjoy them. I don’t want you complaining for months after the fact that you don’t remember half of what happened.”

“I guess you’re right. Revenge is a dish best served cold, and I'm feeling a little too warm to ice them out.” Staggering, Marinette got to her feet. “Call an Uber?”

“It’s already here.”

“What made you change your mind?” Tim frowned at Jason, doubtful that he wasn’t going to cop out at the last second. He was sure that he was only putting on his suit as some sort of deliberate ploy to get out of the Gala. Truthfully, it wasn’t required that all of them attend the Gala, but it was one of the few events that brought together most of the Wayne family.

Jason ran a hand through his hair and smirked. “Let’s just say I’m expecting quite the show.”

Jason kept a hawkish gaze on the entrance, waiting for the appearance of one short, pigtailed girl, and a taller blonde. They arrived almost forty five minutes into the Gala, which was good timing; not late enough to be considered rude, but most people have already arrived and have made their rounds.

Marinette looked different out of the dim lighting of the bar, and even though she definitely looks like she’s nursing a light hangover, she still managed to look stunning. With a matte-black floor length dress that attracted all light in the vicinity towards it, it’s hard not to look her way; Tim, for one, stared at the outfits that Marinette and her companion are wearing with stars in his eyes. Any moment now, he’s going to approach them. Or he would if he weren’t on Jason-sitting duty.

“I’ll play nice,” Jason promised.

“You? Nice?” Tim sounded incredulous, and it’s not like he can fault him. Whenever Jason did successfully get roped into coming to the Gala, it’s a sure thing that he gets at least one fist fight started, if not an everyone for themselves sort of situation.

“They’re the reason I decided to come. It’s not me you have to be worried about.”

Tim groaned. “Really? They’re trouble makers? But they’re wearing MDC!”

Jason chuckled, slipping a hand into his pants pocket. Tim was weirdly obsessed with the highly secretive French designer. Nobody ever saw them in person. “Wearing your fashion icon doesn’t mean they can’t kick ass.”

Tim rocked back on his heels, looking at the two girls calculatively. “That’s right. If anything, they’re more likely to kick ass, because that’s the kind of confidence that MDC inspires in their designs. Well, if you’re not going to fight them, I’m going to introduce myself.”

“And I can’t leave my little brother alone.” Jason said, watching the blonde girl point in the direction of, if he wasn’t mistaken, Gabriel Agreste’s son and his plus one.

Who knew that doing a preliminary reading of the guests would be so informative? He could only guess what kind of beef Marinette had with Agreste Jr.--Bruce had enough problems with Gabriel; even though Wayne Enterprises only dabbled in fashion, Gabriel was a ruthless man when it came to his competitors, and tried to edge them out of the market multiple times. Foolish on his part, not taking into consideration that both Bruce and Tim were very, very stubborn people who only get more difficult to face when dealing with a challenge.

Wayne Enterprise might primarily be considered with R&D and technology companies, but underestimating the amount of influence Tim could gather when someone pissed him off was just a bad idea.

“Hi, I’m Tim--”

“--and it’s lovely to meet you, but we’re on a mission right now,” finished the blonde girl, who Jason was now 98% sure is Chloe Bourgeois, daughter of Paris’ mayor and Style Queen Audrey Bourgeois. “Dupain-Cheng, it’s your time to shine.”

“God,” Marinette muttered underneath her breath, ducking her head. “I can’t believe you’re holding me to what I said while drunk last night.”

“It’s not just what you said drunk last night, it’s the most effective way of dealing with that liar. She’ll be so embarrassed she’ll hide away forever. Maybe get some plastic surgery and change her name. Daddy will make sure she can never step foot in Paris again.”

“Chloe,” Marinette groaned. “We all know how that panned out last time. Do you want a repeat performance?”

“By that time Hawkmoth will already be taken down. No need to worry about evil butterflies.”

“Evil butterflies?” Tim frowned.

“We can fill you in later, Marinette has a car to steal.”

“Chloe!”

“Oh stuff it, Dupain-Cheng, you’re no goody two shoes, even though you pretend to be one.”

Marinette whispers into Chloe’s ear, eyeing Jason and Tim. “Do you have to discuss that with other people around?”

“Well,” Chloe crossed her arms. “You boys aren’t going to rat us out, are you? They’re part of the infamous Wayne family. They’ll definitely be in.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You know they already reached out-- I can’t risk--” Marinette kept cutting herself off. “Fine, but if you-know-what falls through, I’m putting it all on you.”

“Like they’re going to pass you up just because of what’s going to go down at this gala. If anything, they’ll be glad to know that you’re as vicious as you are creative,” Chloe checked her nails and touched her hair, making sure it was in place.

“Sorry, what? I’m a little bit lost.”

“Keep up, Drake. I’m beginning to doubt your title as child-genius.You have the unique opportunity to watch history in the making.”

“Wait,” Tim’s jaw almost dropped at the display in front of him. “How did you even--”

“Trade secret. Marinette doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“But that’s the Batmobile.”

“Yeah, and?”

Jason laughed. He stole the hubcaps off the Batmobile, Marinette stole the whole thing. What a sight.

Here’s how the rest of the night went: Chloe plied Marinette with copious amounts of water, trying to get rid of her headache. Marinette hopped into the driver’s seat of the Batmobile (to which Chloe cackled, “And she doesn’t even have a driver’s license yet,” and Tim paled to the shade of freshly fired ceramic plate.) They ran over Kim, who, somehow managed to get into the event as a server of sorts, at which point Tim swore that the background checks would have to be upped again. Marinette landed the Batmobile in the middle of the gala, barely managing to avoid several innocents who were in her path. She reached into the convenient storage compartment that Jason was previously unaware of and pulled out the Discowing outfit and his helmet-- seriously, how did she get those?-- and slammed the car door.

Security, of course, was waiting for them. How couldn’t they, with that big of a disturbance? Half of the guests were up in a tizzy-- mostly the ones who were experiencing their first Wayne Gala-- and the other half were looking on, amused. Tim waved the guards off as Marinette made her way to Lila and Adrien, like a vengeful Valkyrie.

“You,” Marinette grimaced. “Chloe, say the words, I forgot them.”

“We decided that words were useless, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Marinette said, before promptly slamming Red Hood’s helmet onto Adrien’s head hard enough for him to fall to the ground, likely concussed. Lila, who started screeching and running away made for a surprisingly difficult target. Well, difficult in the fact that she was using other people as shields, but once she came across a group of Experienced Wayne Gala Goers, she got pushed out of her comfort zone.

In eight inch heels and with her hair down, Marinette stalked towards her prey.

“Lila Rossi,” Marinette intoned. “Your sins will be judged.”

“What are you going to do, Marinette? You have no power here. We’re in America now. No Ladybug to back you up. No public opinion in your favor.”

Marinette shuddered. “Ugh, your voice makes me want to vomit. In any case, I sentence you to life in Discowing’s costume.”

“You can’t make me wear anything!”

Famous last words, Lila.

“I’m still so confused. What just happened?”

“Don’t worry,” Chloe gave Tim a pat on the back. “You’ll get used to this kind of thing if you end up hanging around Marinette more often.”

“I think I’m in love,” said Jason.

“Get in the back of the line. The only thing Marinette has time for now are her plans to take down Hawkmoth.”

“I’m not opposed to joining you. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.” Jason paused. “By the way, has she already stolen the utility belts to take down Gabriel or does she need more? I’ve got contacts.”

"Fair warning, everything in Paris is at least twenty times crazier than what you’ve seen here today.” Chloe swiped through a few notifications on her phone. “And please, do you think someone who hotwired the Batmobile needs your help getting her hands on a couple utility belts? If she really put her mind to it, she could get the Lasso of Truth from Wonder Woman.”

“Yeah, Jason, I’m definitely not going to join you on that trip.” Tim turned his attention towards Marinette, who was currently passed out on the hotel couch. “Anyways, You two are wearing MDC, right? I have a meeting with them tomorrow!”

Chloe looked at the poor boy with pity. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

@jasonette-july-2k20

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i’m really churning out these jasonette prompts like butter (god butter is so freaking good you ever eat butter straight? i do. heart attack city & the next paula dean) even tho i only thought about joining in right when july was ending but here we are

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dccomicsimagines · 3 years

Text

What’s Lost is Found - Batfamily Imagine - Part Eleven

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Six.Five Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

***

“Now look at how beautiful it is today,” Dick said as he pushed your wheelchair out of the manor and into the gardens.

You covered your eyes, giving them a moment to adjust. “I guess.” You rubbed the AV fistula in your arm.

“Are you feeling okay? The dialysis didn’t make you sick again?” Dick rubbed your shoulder with one hand. You swallowed hard. How could your life have changed so much?

“I’m fine.” You smiled when Dick pushed you around a corner to find Kori and Alfred. “Hi.”

“(Y/N), my love.” Kori waddled toward you, kissing your cheek. Her belly was huge. The baby was supposed to arrive any day now. “Come, we decided to have a picnic outside.”

Alfred was setting the picnic table. “Master Dick, will you go get us more ice please?” Dick parked you near the picnic table before running back to the manor. Trees shaded the area, keeping it cool from the summer sun’s blazing gaze. You got to your feet and slowly walked to the table. Alfred watched you worriedly.

“I’m okay. I just have to get used to walking again.” You waved him off. Two months in a coma weakened you. Not to mention your failing kidneys and your bad arm. You eyed your thin, ghostly arm. The cast had come off the day after you woke up. They told you it took two surgeries to correct it.

Alfred hummed, pouring you a cup of lemonade. Kori sat across from you. She rubbed her belly. “The baby is kicking again.”

You perked up. “Can I feel?” She leaned over to take your hand and pressed it against her belly. The baby kicked hard. “Wow.”

Kori smiled. “They must know you’re here.”

“How are you such an imbecile that you didn’t know where the ice was located, Grayson?!” Damian’s voice came from around the corner. You pulled away from Kori’s belly.

“Damian’s here? I thought he’d be at the penthouse.” You took a sip of lemonade. Dick and Damian came around the corner with the ice.

“Master Damian said he’d stop by.” Alfred finished laying out the sandwiches and salads. “Master Tim, Miss Stephanie, and everyone else will be here for dinner.”

Dick put the ice in the cooler. Damian sat down next to you, glancing you over before he relaxed. You were touched by his concern. “Is Jon back from space yet?” You bumped Damian’s arm.

“TT, no, he is not.” Damian growled. “Don’t worry about him. He’s an idiot.” He piled food onto his plate.

You frowned. Alfred started to fill your plate for you, passive aggressively hinting that you should eat. Dick sat down next to Kori. “He’ll be back soon, sweetheart. Superman wouldn’t have sent him to space if he knew you would wake up three days after he left,” Kori said.

“Yeah, sure.” You picked at your food. Alfred sat down at the end of the table in a folding chair.

“Young Mr. Kent was here all the time. His parents sent him away to give him some distance.” Alfred patted your hand. “It hurt him to leave you.”

“Couldn’t get him out of the house,” Dick mumbled. “I can’t tell you the number of times we found him sleeping on the floor of your room.”

Damian huffed, rolling his eyes. You smiled. Your heart ached to see Jon. He was the one person you hadn’t seen yet. Part of you was afraid something happened to him and no one was telling you. “When are you moving back to your swampland?” Damian asked with a smirk.

Dick rolled his eyes. Kori answered for him. “We are going to wait for the baby to be born and for (Y/N) to receive their new kidney.” Your eyes widened.

“New kidney?!” You gasped. Alfred, Dick, and Damian winced. Kori looked at them, confused.

“What? (Y/N) needs to know they’re going to get a new kidney.” Kori shook her head at the men. She reached over to rub your arm.

“We were going to tell them at dinner.” Dick bit his lip, studying you. You sighed. A headache blossomed in your temple.

You felt sick to your stomach. “Who is it from?”

Damian swore under his breath. “Like it matters.”

“Master Damian.” Alfred glared at him. Damian blushed and looked away. You shook your head. Everything had changed so much.

“I need some space.” You slowly got to your feet and walked off.

Dick got up to follow you. “(Y/N), don’t walk off on your own.”

“I’m just going over here! You can see me!” You walked over to a bench a few yards away. “Let me breathe, will you?!” Dick stopped in his tracks. You made it to the bench, panting. Frustration formed a lump in your throat. You were so out of shape.

Dick hovered from where he stopped. You glared at him. His mouth twitched. “Don’t give me that look,” he snapped, marching over to you. “You don’t walk off. Do you understand me?” He grabbed your bad arm.

“Shut up.” You jerked away from him, but he gripped your arm tighter. You gasped in pain.

Dick let go, but he pointed his finger in your face. “Do you know how much you scared us all?! You walked off and literally handed yourself over to the enemy! We all thought you were dead until we received word about the auction!” Dick’s hand trembled. The guilt crashed down on you, soaking you with that terrible sinking feeling. “You don’t get to act this way! Not now! Not after everything!”

Kori came to Dick’s side. “Dick, sweetheart. Stop.” She pulled his hand out of your face. You looked away, hiding the quiver of your lips. Your eyes burned with tears.

Dick took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.” He walked off further into the garden. “Give me a minute.” Kori watched him go, tears in her eyes as well. She followed him after a moment. You watched them go.

“And you were saying I have no decorum, Pennyworth,” Damian retorted from the table. Alfred hushed him. You buried your face into your hands, leaning down over your knees.

Alfred approached with his short, slow steps. He settled on the bench beside you, rubbing your back. “Mx. (Y/N), try to not get too upset. Master Dick shouldn’t have exploded like he did. He was just expressing the worry we all had for you.”

“TT.” Damian wandered over. He stood in front of you. You sat up to meet his eye.

“Master Damian, you are not one to talk, so don’t even start.” Alfred shot Damian a look so cold, it almost made you think the warm summer day suddenly turned to winter. “You both were reckless and irresponsible. Too much like your father.”

You smiled sadly. “I know,” you said. Damian raised an eyebrow.

“I would like to point out if Jon and I did not do what we did, (Y/N)’s condition probably would be worse.” Damian nudged your foot with his.

“Once again reckless.” Alfred shook his head. “You both pushed Master Dick to the brink. With Miss Kori recovering from her injuries, to finding Mx. (Y/N) gone, then Master Damian.” He kept rubbing your back soothingly. “Try to not push him, Mx. (Y/N). He is coming to terms with everything.”

“I know, but he’s hovering again.” You blinked back tears, refusing to cry in front of Damian.

Alfred nodded. “I will speak to him. Just understand he does it all out of love and concern.” Alfred got back to his feet. “Now come back to the table. You both need to eat.”

Damian took your hand and helped you to your feet. “Do you notice he scolds me more than he scolds you?”

“It’s probably because you’re Batman.” You poked his side teasingly. Damian let you walk on your own, but stayed nearby in case you needed him. You made it to the table, exhausted. Damian, Alfred, and you went back to eating. Dick and Kori joined you minutes later and the meal continued peacefully.

***

“So it turns out, we’re a match,” Tim said from his seat across the dining room table. Steph sat down next to him, holding his hand.

“Tim, you can’t give me a kidney.” You shook your head in disbelief.

Damian huffed, leaning back in his chair. “TT, like (Y/N) would want your inferior kidney?” He glared over at Tim. “And why are you a match when I am (Y/N)’s blood brother?”

Tim pursed his lips, clearly holding back a snarky retort. Steph spoke up before Tim could. “(Y/N) and you may be biological siblings, but you have too much diversity in your DNA to be a match. Besides, turns out you, (Y/N), and Tim are sixth cousins.” Steph giggled, smirking at the shock on Damian’s face.

“I guess that makes sense.” You smiled at Damian’s dropped jaw. “I mean the Drakes are part of Gotham’s high society and they married each other all the time. That’s how we’re related to the Kanes too.” You reached over to close Damian’s jaw. “Besides, sixth cousins means we’re barely related anyway.”

“However, I’m still a match and I want to give you a kidney.” Tim smiled, leaning his elbows onto the table.

“Did I miss it?” Jason ran into the room, looking at Damian. “Damn it, I missed it. I told you to wait until I got here before you told him you’re sixth cousins.”

Steph rolled her eyes. “We can’t help it if you’re slow.”

Jason flicked her forehead before sitting down next to you. “So you’re taking Tim’s kidney? Guess that means you’d be blood siblings.”

You shook your head. “That’s not how it works.”

Horror dawned on Damian’s face. “No, I refuse to allow this to happen.” He pointed at Tim. “I will not let you pollute the Wayne bloodline with your fucking incompetence.”

Tim opened his mouth, but Steph stopped him. “Let me.” She smiled before laying into Damian. They argued loudly and within minutes, Damian was flying over the table to tackle Steph. Jason egged them on. Tim moved out of the way, coming over to your side.

“I think Steph is enjoying this too much.” Tim bit his lip.

“To be fair, Damian had it coming.” You blinked back tears. “Tim, you don’t have to give me a kidney.”

“I know I don’t have to.” Tim smiled, taking your hand. “But I want to.” He tapped your nose like he used to do when you were really young. “We’re siblings. Besides, I don’t think I could live with myself knowing you were on dialysis for the rest of your life when I could have just given you one of mine.”

You squeezed his hand. “But what about Red Robin? You’ll have to be careful with only one kidney.”

Tim chuckled. “I was actually thinking about retiring.” Your jaw dropped, making Tim laugh harder. “I’ll still investigate and help Damian out, but I won’t go into the field. With Wayne Enterprises, it’s just too much.” He ran a hand through his hair. A move you all inherited from Dick. “Yesterday, I fell asleep during a board meeting. Lucius had to kick me under the table to wake me up.”

You laughed. Steph and Damian broke a vase on the table by the wall. Dick ran into the room. “What the hell are you two doing?!” He pulled them apart, scolding them like they were two small children.

“I can’t believe Batman is wrestling with Spoiler.” Duke laughed, coming in with Cass and Alfred. They were carrying plates to set the table.

“Luckily, preparing dinner took shorter than expected. I would hate to have more casualties,” Alfred said, eyeing the broken vase. Cass clicked her tongue, smiling. She patted your shoulder as she passed. Tim got up to help them. You stayed where you were, startled by the warm feeling in your chest. It felt like you were home at last.

***

Two weeks later, you strolled the gardens by yourself. You were getting stronger. The doctors said in a week, you should be ready for the kidney transplant.

You sat down on a stone bench under the Northern Red Oak Alfred always told you had been planted when the first Waynes moved into the manor over two hundred years ago.

Closing your eyes, you breathed in the fresh air. It surprised you that you found you missed the humidity of Florida. Maybe it was a home to you after all?

A sonic boom cracked the air. You flinched. Birds went flying, squawking loudly. “What?” You stood up only to suddenly find yourself off your feet and in someone’s arms. Lips pressed against yours. Jon’s scent hit your nose. You kissed him, closing your eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re awake.” Jon was spinning you around. You laughed, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid getting dizzy.

“Jon, stop.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. He stopped to kiss you again. You melted into him. “I missed you.” You pulled away to get a good look at him.

His hair was longer. A glance at the ground told you he grew another inch as well. Did his shoulders fill out? Your face burned. You definitely didn’t grow any. Probably looked worse. Lost a lot of weight and so weak. Jon studied you. “You look so beautiful.” He kissed you again, sitting down on the bench with you in his lap.

“Now I know you’re lying.” You leaned against him, soaking in his warmth. “I look like I got hit by a truck.”

Jon blinked. “No, you’re beautiful.” He grinned, tilting his head like a puppy dog. You ran your hands through his longer hair. “I flew here as soon as they told me.”

“When did you get back?” You kissed his cheek, laughing when he turned to catch your lips with his.

“Five minutes ago.” He smirked. “We just arrived at the Watchtower and Dad met me in the hanger bay. I zoomed out of there so fast, I’m sure I gave the Flash whiplash.”

You smiled as you kept running your fingers through his hair. Jon smiled back at you before frowning. “Something is happened in the house.”

“What?” You glanced back at the manor curiously. “Oh, I bet Kori went into labor. She was complaining of back pain this morning.”

Jon paled slightly. “Dick is losing his mind.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah? He loses his mind at everything.” You nodded to the manor. “I suppose we should go see.”

“Do we have to? I mean what if the baby is coming fast or they want privacy...” Jon tightened his arms around you.

You got out of his lap and took his hand. “Don’t tell me Superboy is scared of childbirth? It’s really not that bad.” You rolled your eyes when Jon didn’t get up. “Come on, it’s early labor. Let’s just say goodbye before they head to the Watchtower for the delivery.”

“How are you not nervous?” Jon followed you, squeezing your hand gently.

“During the Joker infection a few years ago, I had to help a woman give birth. She was crying in one of the old apartments in the Bowery. I found her and had to keep her calm with thousands of laughing jokerized people outside.” You shivered. “Honesty, this is nothing compared to that.”

Jon stopped. You turned to look at him only to find him studying you in awe. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”

You bit back a smile. “Maybe. The woman named her kid after me. Robin Maria de León. She should be about two now.” You pulled Jon to keep walking. “They moved out of Gotham after the attack.”

Jon shook his head, kissing your temple as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. The two of you entered the manor and followed the noise to one of the dens. Kori was sitting on the couch, quite relaxed. “Oh Jon, you have returned. (Y/N) was missing you,” Kori said, flipping through a magazine.

“How is she so calm?” Jon remarked. You moved to sit next to her.

“Is it time?” you asked, leaving Jon to keep his distance. He was acting like Kori had an infectious disease instead of going into labor.

“It is.” Kori sighed when a loud bang came from upstairs. “Dick is not handling it well.” She set down the magazine. “(Y/N), will you go help him get my bag? Jon, stay here and tell me about your adventure to space.”

Jon swallowed hard. You patted his arm as you passed. “You’ll be fine. It’s just Kori.”

It took you a full minute to get up the stairs. You panted at the top, slowly making your way to Dick and Kori’s room. At least you weren’t as wiped out as you were a few days ago. Progress.

“Where is the damn thing?” Dick slammed a drawer shut before ripping open another. Clothes were scattered about the room.

“Kori is going to be pissed if she comes back to find the room like this.” You leaned against the door frame to rest. Dick looked up at you worriedly.

“I’ll clean it up. I just have to find it before we go.” Dick turned away once he was satisfied you were alright.

“Yeah.” You moved into the bedroom once you caught your breath, picking up and folding the clothes. “What are you looking for?”

Dick swore under his breath. “I’m looking for Sitka.”

You blinked, stacking the clothes on the bed. “Sitka?”

“My stuffed elephant that I had when I was a kid. I wanted the baby to have it right away.” Dick ran a hand through his hair, glancing around. “I thought I left it here, but maybe I did take it down to Florida.” He shook his head and grabbed Kori’s bag. “I guess I’ll have to go without it.”

“I’m sure it will turn up.” You smiled when Dick hugged you tightly, kissing your forehead.

Dick hummed. “I’ll keep you updated. Be good. Unless you want to come with us? It’s going to be a few hours at the least.” He pulled away to look you in the eye.

“I’ll wait. Jon’s here.” You bit your lip when Dick’s eyes flashed at your words.

“Tell him that if he sonic booms over the manor again, I’ll break out Bruce’s kryptonite ring.” Dick ran a hand through your hair.

You smirked. “Sure, you will.”

Dick chuckled before a shout from below made you both freeze. “Gotta go.” Dick rushed out of the room and back downstairs. You followed slowly, shaking your head at the chaos below.

***

“If you were a sentimental fool, where would you leave it?” You mumbled, glancing around Dick and Kori’s bedroom at their house in Florida.

“I would have probably left it on my bed or something,” Jon said, checking under the bed. He pulled out a box, opening it before quickly shutting it again. His face burned redder than you ever seen it before.

You frowned, crossing your arms. “What was that?”

“Nothing you would want to know about.” Jon gagged. “I can’t unsee it.” He covered his eyes with his hands.

Shaking your head, you opened the closet door and checked in there again. “It wasn’t at the manor, so it has to be here.”

“I know you want to do this for him, but shouldn’t we be going to the watchtower? Dick called you an hour ago.” Jon pushed the box back under the bed with disgust.

“No, not until we find it.” You hummed. “We still haven’t checked the attic.” You headed out to the hallway and pulled down the staircase. Jon followed, frowning. “Come on.” Taking out your phone, you turned on the flashlight and climbed up. You ran out of breath at the top.

“Rest.” Jon pushed you to sit on the top of the stairs. “I’ll take a look.” He took your phone and wandered into the dark attic.

“I know Dick put the Christmas stuff up here and some of my boxes.” You leaned back on your hands, closing your eyes. “It should be up here. He had stuff up here already when I brought up mine.”

Jon hummed, opening a box. “Decorations.” He closed it and went to another one. “Why couldn’t you label anything?”

You smiled, getting up to point to the side of the box. It was neatly labeled in your handwriting. “We did.”

“Damian’s right. I am blind even with supersight.” He shook his head and moving deeper into the attic. The attic ceiling was low. You both had to duck down uncomfortably just to move around.

After searching for a while, you found a box in the far back. It was covered in dust. No one had touched it in years. You wrinkled your nose, blowing off dust to read the label written in Dick’s messy handwriting. “Stuff. No wonder he can’t find anything if he just labels it ‘stuff’.”

Jon came over with your phone to give you more light. You opened the box, sending dust everywhere. Jon sneezed. “So much dust.”

You shook your head, peering inside. Right on top was Sitka. “Found it.” You took out the worn, old elephant.

Jon raised an eyebrow. “We probably should wash it before we give it to the baby.”

“Probably.” You handed it to him, frowning at the painting under Sitka. It looked familiar. “Oh my, he kept it.” You pulled it out. It was the painting you made years ago, back when Dick was Batman and you were his kid. “My ‘Jackson Pollock’.”

“Who’s Jackson Pollock?” Jon settled down next to you, wrapping an arm around you. You leaned into him, tired from moving around. The painting was just how you remembered it.

“A painter. I read about him and copied his work when I was little. I gave this one to Dick.” You shook your head. “I thought he would have gotten rid of it.”

Jon hummed. “Judging by what we dug through, Dick doesn’t throw things away.”

A frown pulled at your lips. Dick never threw anything or anyone away, even when they hurt him. You swallowed hard. “Yeah.” You dug through the box, finding more treasures from the year Dick was your parent. It hurt and pleased at the same time. ”I’m always mean to him. I don’t know why he cares.”

“Because he loves you.” Jon kissed your temple. “And you’re not always mean to him. I think you’re one of the kindest people I’ve met.”

“That’s a lie.” You closed the box. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“No, it’s not.” Jon kissed your cheek. “A mean person wouldn’t have spent all this time trying to find a stuffed elephant.”

You snorted. Dust got into your nose. You sneezed hard. “Okay, we got to get out of here.” Your eyes watered.

Jon nodded, helping you up. The two of you left the dark, dusty attic behind.

***

Hours later, you were alone on the watchtower. It was quiet and dark, being nighttime for most of the league members. Jon had went home after he dropped you off here.

A dull ache came back to your bad arm as it seemed to do every night. You wondered if it would ever go away. Space was so deathly silent. You felt like you had to hold your breath. Sitka was under your arm, dust free and clean for the baby.

It took you a good few minutes to find Kori’s room in the medbay. She was fast asleep with a bassinet next to her. You tiptoed inside and peeked inside the bassinet. “Wow,” you gasped quietly, smiling at the tiny little baby inside. Tufts of dark hair, same color as Dick’s, stuck out from under the blanket they was swaddled in. Their little hand twitched in their sleep was the same golden orange as Kori’s.

You stared at the baby for a long time. Of course, you had seen babies before. Even helped someone deliver one, but you had to admit, you never saw a more beautiful baby.

Carefully, you set Sitka in the far corner of the bassinet where the baby could see it when they woke up. You blinked, realizing at this moment you didn’t know if the baby was a boy or girl. Dick only said the baby was born and for you to come, nothing else. You glanced at Kori, who was still asleep.

After a few minutes of gazing at the baby some more, you pulled yourself away and slipped out of the room. You turned the corner to head back to the teleporter only to come face to face with Dick.

“Now you show up.” Dick took a step back, sipping a cup of coffee. Dark circles were under his eyes making him look older than his years. His hair was a mess. You resisted the urge to fix it. “I called you hours ago.”

“I was busy.” You bit your lip. His mouth twitched. Eyebrows furrowed. He was angry. Why was he angry?

Dick took a moment to swallow before walking around you and back down the hall. You followed, concerned. “I was waiting for you.” He spun around to face you. His lips pulled into a frown.

“I know, but I was busy.” You raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong? You should be happy. The baby is beautiful.”

Dick’s face softened. He glanced inside the window of the medbay at Kori and the bassinet. “We wanted you to be here, you know? To meet your niece for the first time.”

“She’s a girl.” You smiled, peeking around the corner. “I should have known. She has so much hair already.” You looked back at Dick, catching loss of focus in his eyes, the slight droop of his lower eyelid. “Oh, so you’re not mad? You’re sad I didn’t get here right away.” You smiled when Dick’s eyes widened. “I learned from the best, you know.”

Dick took a sip of coffee, sensing you were mocking him with the ‘you know’. Of course, you were. “I guess I’m worried what you would think of adding a baby to our little family. A baby changes things.”

You shrugged. “Not that many things.” Your eyes stayed on the bassinet.

“I suppose not.” Dick studied you. “Do you want to hold her? We’ll have to be careful if she’s asleep.”

Fear stuck you like lightning. It was one thing to look at the baby, but another thing to hold one. “I don’t...I mean...” You bit your lip.

Dick chuckled. “You won’t drop her.” He went into the room, setting his coffee down on a table before looking into the bassinet. You held your breath when you saw him pause, knowing he saw Sitka. He looked back at you, raising an eyebrow and holding up the elephant. Your face heated up. You looked away.

“Come on, Mar’i. You need to meet (Y/N).” Dick came out with the bundle in his arms. You froze, terror chilled you to the core. “Don’t be scared, (Y/N).” Dick nodded to your arms. You swallowed hard, copying his. He slipped Mar’i right into yours. You gasped. She was awake, staring up at you with brilliant green eyes.

“Hi.” You smiled bigger than you had in a long time. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dick taking a picture on his phone. You ignored him. Mar’i just blinked. “So her name is Mar’i?”

“Mar’i (Y/N) Grayson.” Dick smirked when you looked at him in surprise. “I mean it fits, don’t you think?”

You bit your lip, looking down at Mar’i. “I guess it does.” You rocked her. She dozed off in your arms.

“Thank you for getting Sitka for me.” Dick leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes. “I suppose that’s why you didn’t come right away, huh? That’s why I can never stay mad at you. Always sneaking up and doing something sweet.”

You sighed, leaning down to kiss Mar’i’s head. She smelled of baby powder and sunshine. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Dick raised an eyebrow, opening his eyes to look at you.

“Everything.” Alfred’s words echoed through your head. Guilt soured your stomach once again. “I shouldn’t have handed myself over to Bane’s son. I threw my life away and I know that hurt you.”

Dick blinked. “I forgive you, sweetheart.” He stepped over to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You leaned into him, using him to help support Mar’i‘s weight. It started to strain your arms. “Just don’t ever do it again.”

You snorted. “I don’t plan on it.” Dick kissed your temple, chuckling as you looked down at Mar’i’s perfect little face.

***

“Now don’t panic.” Jason poked at your arm as you laid in the hospital bed. Nurses moved around you, prepping you for surgery. “You’re going to have Tim’s kidney inside of you, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be a stick-in-the-mud like him.”

“Geez, thanks,” Tim said from across the room, where he was also being prepped for surgery.

You laughed. “Stop it.” You batted Jason’s hand away. “Dick and Kori will be here when I wake up, won’t they?”

Jason gasped, pressing his hand against his chest like you shot him. “What about me? I’m here, giving my support.”

“More like a headache,” Tim grumbled.

“Yes, they will be here. They just have to handle the baby first.” Jason kissed your cheek. “Little Mar’ionster.”

You smirked. “Don’t call her that. You don’t want Kori firing star bolts at you again, do you?”

“Like she could hit me.” Jason matched your smirk and leaned back in his chair.

“We’ll take them in now,” the nurse said, gesturing for Jason to leave. “You may wait in the waiting room.”

“Sure, sure.” Jason kissed the top of your head. “Be good.” He went over to Tim. Tim glared at him, daring him to do something. “Ah, don’t be like that, Timbo.” He ruffled Tim’s hair, much to Tim’s despair.

Tim knocked his hand away. “Get out of here already.” Jason left, laughing his head off. The nurses rolled your bed into the operating room across the hall. You frowned at the bright lights.

Tim was parked a little ways from you. “You okay?” He asked, smiling when he met your eye.

“Fine. You?” You swallowed hard, suddenly scared.

“Good.” He winked at you. “We’ll be fine. Once we’re out, we can laze around and watch cartoons like we used to.”

“Ninja Turtles?” You smiled. The tension drained out of you.

Tim nodded, turning away when the anesthesiologist spoke to him. You gripped at the blanket covering you.

“Relax, (Y/N). You’ll be fine.” A nurse rubbed your arm. You gave her a shaky smile.

The anesthesiologist left Tim and came over to you. “I want you to count down from one hundred for me,” he said soothingly as he injected something into your IV. You closed your eyes, counting only to pass out at ninety seven.

***

“I can’t believe I haven’t watch this before,” Jon remarked, sitting by your feet and leaning back against the couch. You lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders. He kissed the side of your knee, hugging your lower legs.

“You never watched Ninja Turtles?” Your fingers played with his hair. “That’s it. Can’t be together anymore.”

Tim snorted from his spot on the couch next to you. “If that was the case, I would have broken up with Steph a long time ago.”

“Did I hear my name?” Steph walked in with a tray of healthy snacks Alfred prepared. “Speak of the devil and she should appear.”

She set the tray down on the coffee table, handing a small bowl of popcorn to Tim and you. You munched happily. Jon tilted his head back with his mouth open. You fed him a piece. “Thanks,” he said, tilting his head back to the tv.

Your recovery was going good. You had only a little pain and your body was accepting Tim’s kidney the best it could. The medications weren’t fun and came with their own restrictions, but you were happy to not have dialysis three times a week.

Tim was recovering as well if not better than you were. He was still on the same healthy diet as you, but at least he didn’t have the same medications you did.

The four of you watched cartoons and snacked away. Eventually, Tim and Steph left to go back to their apartment. You and Jon kept watching until Jon fell asleep and your legs went numb from laying over his shoulders.

“Ouch.” You folded your legs back, wincing at the pins and needles. The remote laid next to you. You put on the news out of habit.

“Today, the court decided the fate of Tourne Wu-San, otherwise known as Bane. Two weeks ago, the court confirmed Wu-San guilty on charges of terrorism.” You froze, shocked that you didn’t hear about this before. Why didn’t anyone tell you? “Wu-San’s sentencing was held off after much conflict from Santa Prisca’s embassy. However, after confirmation of Wu-San’s dual citizenship, the court sentenced Tourne Wu-San to death by lethal injection.”

“What?!” You jumped to your feet only to fall back onto the couch. Your legs were still asleep. The blood drained out of your face. Jon jerked awake, looking around.

“What’s wrong?” He focused on you, frowning deeply. “Woah, hey. You look like you seen a ghost.”

Your hands shook. “They’re going to kill him.” Jon took your hand. His hand radiated warmth. You pulled away, unable to accept the comfort. “It’s all my fault. He’s going to die because of what I did.”

“Sweetheart, what are you talking about?” Jon kissed your arm, moving to sit on the couch beside you.

You shook your head, pointing at the screen. The TV was playing a My Pillow commercial. “Bane’s son. They sentenced him to die.”

Jon swallowed hard. His face paled. “That’s rough.”

“Rough? He’s going to die and it’s all my fault.” You jumped to your feet and paced the room. “I have to help him.”

“It’s not your fault, (Y/N). He made his own choices.” Jon stood in front of you, forcing you to stop pacing. “He has to pay for what he did. If the courts decided that, we can’t change it.”

Tears ran down your cheeks. The surge of emotions raged through you, but you knew you couldn’t live if Bane’s son was killed. “Yes, we can. We can break him out and free him.”

“Are you crazy?!” Jon threw his hands up in the air. “He almost killed you.” He leaned close to your face. “You had to get a kidney transplant because of him! People lost their lives and homes because of him!”

You screamed. Jon jerked away from you. “He’s like us, Jon!” You pushed Jon away from you. “He’s like Damian and me! All three of us lost parents that day! We can’t let it continue!”

“What the hell is going on in here?!” Dick burst through the door. “I’m trying to get Mar’i to sleep and all I can hear is yelling!” Jon blushed. You panted before storming past Dick. Dick caught your arm. “Hey, what’s wrong?” His voice dropped to a soothing whisper. You were confused until you realized you were still crying.

“Nothing.” You yanked your arm away from Dick. “Just leave me alone.” You ran upstairs and slammed your bedroom door shut behind you. Only then did you allow yourself to break down completely.

***

“Have you lost your mind? He’s a criminal.” Damian folded his hands in front of him as he sat in his batcomputer chair like it was a throne. You glanced around the batcave he had made for himself under Wayne Tower and admitted the chair was a throne in a way. This was Damian’s kingdom he built on his own.

“Damian, we can’t let him die.” You rocked on your feet. Jon hovered behind you. Despite the fact he hadn’t said a word, his disapproval burned into you. “We can’t let the cycle of death continue.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Bane killed Dad, then I killed Bane.” You swallowed hard. Those words would always carry a heavy weight for you. “Bane’s son almost killed me and if we allow him to be executed, what’s to stop someone from Santa Prisca to come after us and Gotham again?” You crossed your arms, shivering. “We have to stop the cycle. No more death.”

“Interesting notion.” Damian rubbed his chin. He spun in his chair and typed on his computer.

You waited, watching his screens. A smile pulled at your lips when Damian brought up the schematics of Blackgate Prison where Bane’s son was being held. “Damian, you can’t be serious,” Jon said, going to Damian’s side. “He almost killed (Y/N).”

“Yes, but he didn’t, did he?” Damian kept working. “He could have killed (Y/N) right after they handed themselves over, but he didn’t.” Damian glanced back at you. “He could have killed them during the three weeks they held them, but he didn’t. When he caused (Y/N) to overdose, he knew we would get to them in time to prevent cardiac failure.” You smiled. “I say he didn’t want to kill (Y/N) just as much as (Y/N) doesn’t want to see him executed.”

Jon glanced between the two of you. “Nope. This is not happening.” He crossed his arms. “I love you, (Y/N) and Damian, you’re my best friend, but I’m not letting you do this. I’ll tell my dad and Dick if I have to.”

Damian snorted. “I guess we’ll have to do this quickly then.” In a move so fast, you almost missed it, Damian landed a punch to Jon’s jaw. Jon fell like a rock. You gasped, running to him. “TT, he’s fine. Just repaying him for the time he did that to me.”

“He’s unconscious.” You felt the lump on his jaw. “Damn it, Damian. A bit more pressure and you would have broken his jaw.” Damian huffed, taking off the kryptonite ring and putting back into his belt.

“I know what I am doing.” Damian cracked his knuckles and walked over to his changing area. “Come along. We have to be done before he wakes up.”

You were torn between Jon and Damian, but you knew you had to save Bane’s son. Kissing Jon’s head, you got him a pillow and a blanket before following Damian.

***

Pursing your lips, you gripped the stirring wheel of Damian’s flying batmobile. It was in camouflage mode, hovering only a few meters above the prison. You held your breath, counting to ten, then releasing it. Damian entered the prison twenty minutes ago. Where was he?

You glanced at the clock. It was three in the morning now. At your best estimate, Jon would wake up in another half an hour. You had to be back before then.

A flash of red light came from the roof of Blackgate. You sighed in relief, lowering the batmobile until it was a few feet above the roof. It rocked as two forms climbed to the cockpit.

“I don’t understand why you would do this,” Bane’s son said, confused. Damian pushed him to sit in the backseat before climbing up to join you at the front.

“Shut up.” Damian growled in his Batman voice. You shook your head, feeling Bane’s son’s eyes on you. You hit the gas, flying the batmobile away from the prison. “I think we need to provide some more funding. Blackgate’s security has too many holes.”

“Says someone on the outside.” Bane’s son looked out the window. “Where are you taking me? Are you planning to kill me?”

You glanced back at him. He didn’t have his mask on. Your heart jumped into your throat. “We’re ending this.”

Damian huffed. “TT, now it sounds like we’re going to kill him.”

Bane’s son chuckled. “It does.”

“I didn’t mean that.” You smiled. It was odd to have the man who was your captor for three long weeks and forced you to overdose, sitting behind you, making a joke. “I meant that we’re going to end the cycle of death. All three of us have suffered enough. We couldn’t allow you to lose your life when you should get a chance to move on.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? They will search for me.” Bane’s son shook his head. “Not to mention they will know it was you who set me free.”

Damian glared at him. “What do you take us for? Idiots?” He smirked dangerously. “They may suspect we have something to do with it, but no one will know as long as they never find you.”

“That is not reassuring me that you aren’t going to kill me.” Bane’s son sighed. “I never wanted this.”

“None of us did.” You bit your lip. “But we can let it go now. No more killing, no more pain, no more death.”

You landed the batmobile on the shoreline in the outskirts of Gotham. All three of you got out. Damian helped you. He squeezed your arm, reminding you to take it easy. Bane’s son studied you as if he could already see the damage he had done to you.

“What now?” he asked, pulling his gaze away from you.

“TT.” Damian went to the shoreline. He pressed a button on his gauntlet to reveal a camouflaged boat. “Your escape.” He narrowed his eyes at Bane’s son. “It’s autopilot will take you to Canada. Inside is money and documents for your new identity.”

Bane’s son blinked in surprise. “You are really letting me go? After everything I did to your city and to you?” He pointed to you. “They told me I put you in a coma for two months.”

“Like I said. I’m letting it go and I hope you can too.” You held out a hand. “Go live the life you wanted to live before I forced you to fight your father’s battles.”

Bane’s son eyed your hand. He paused before taking it. “Let bygones be bygones.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

Relief washed over you. The tension you didn’t realized you had for so long drained out of you. “You’re welcome.” Bane’s son pulled his hand away. He nodded to Damian before running to the boat.

You and Damian watched as the boat disappeared into the distance. “We have to go. Kent will be awake soon.” Damian helped you back into the batmobile, taking the pilot’s seat this time.

“We did good.” You closed your eyes, exhausted.

“TT. Only time will tell, I suppose, but you are right.” Damian flew the batmobile back to the city. “It feels like we did the right thing.”

***

You sat on Damian’s couch with Jon’s head on your lap. Your hand lazily ran through his hair. He hadn’t woken up yet, much to your relief. You kissed his forehead. Tears filled your eyes. You knew he probably won’t forgive you for this.

“TT.” Damian walked by. “Stop being emotional.”

“Shut up.” You glared at him only to turn back to Jon when you felt him stir in your lap.

Jon groaned, opening his eyes. His hand came up to rub his jaw. “What happened?”

“Payback.” Damian retorted, tossing an icepack onto Jon’s lap.

You shook your head. “Damian punched you.” You took the ice pack and pressed it gently against Jon’s jaw. Jon looked at you, drinking in the tears in your eyes. He probably could feel the guilt dripping off you.

“You did it, didn’t you?” His voice was a whisper as he looked into your eyes. Biting your lip, you nodded. Jon sighed and closed his eyes. “You look like there is a weight off your shoulders.”

“What?” You twisted a strand of his hair around your finger. He opened his eyes.

“When I first saw you at Christmas, you looked like you had this backpack of rocks hanging off you at all times. Even when I made you laugh, you still had it.” Jon smiled sadly. “But now it looks like it’s gone. You seem...happier.”

Damian huffed, taking a seat nearby. “That was put as eloquently as you could manage, Kent.”

“Shut up, Damian.” Jon glared at Damian before looking back at you. “I’m sorry I tried to stand in your way.”

You grinned, leaning down to kiss his lips. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Jon moaned into the kiss. “You’re the amazing one.”

“Stop it! I’m sitting right here!” Damian threw a pillow at you. You caught it easily with one hand. Jon kept kissing you. You never felt so relieved in your life.

***

Time passed. You recovered from your transplant, thriving the best you could even with the side effects from all the medications. The rest of the family seemed to know you and Damian had something to do with Bane’s son’s escape, but didn’t act on their suspicions.

After three long months, you, Dick, Kori, and baby Mar’i were moving back down to Florida. Luckily, you were able to make up enough work to graduate from high school like you planned. You were going to a small college nearby for at least the first year. After everything, you did want to be near family for now.

The car was packed for the drive home. However, you insisted on one last stop. “Are you sure you want to go alone?” Dick asked, getting out of the car. You nodded your head.

“I’m good.” You walked into the cemetery. Dick’s gaze weighed on you. It brought you some comfort as you remembered how messed up you were when you came here the first time.

Mar’i started to cry in the distance. Kori soothed her. You walked past graves. Their noise faded until you got to the one you were looking for.

“Hi Dad.” You knelt down in front of the simple tombstone. The silence was deafening. “I’m doing like I promised. I’m living my life.” You smiled sadly. “And I repaired my mistakes. Damian, Bane’s son, and I are free from the events of that one night.” Your face burned. “Well, I will always carry the burden, but it won’t dominate my life anymore.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t come earlier. It’s still hard to think that you’re here.” Tears filled your eyes. “I’ve got to stop crying so much. I feel like that’s all I do.” You rested your forehead on the tombstone. “I’m being nice to Dick and Kori.” You sighed deeply. “Mar’i is beautiful too. You’d like her. She’s got your grumpy look.”

A laugh escaped you. “I love you so much, Dad.” You pressed a kiss to the tombstone before pulling away. “I hope I do you proud.” Slowly, you got to your feet. “Goodbye, Dad.” You let your hand rest on the tombstone for a moment. “Thank you for everything.” Almost painfully, you let your hand drop away and started back toward the car.

Dick and Kori were outside, waiting for you. Mar’i was in Kori’s arms, looking at you with those beautiful green eyes. You went to them, allowing yourself to be pulled into Dick’s arms. Kori wrapped one arm around the two of you. You sighed, enjoying the hug. “We can go home now,” you said firmly. You knew truly what was lost had been found.

#batfamily #batfamily imagine #batfamily x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson iamgine #nightwing #nightwing imagine #kori anders #kori anders imagine #starfire #starfire imagine #dc comics imagines #dc reader insert #jon kent #jon kent x reader #jon kent imagine #superboy #superboy x reader #superboy imagine

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cdelphiki · 4 years

Text

“Fuck.”

Jason’s spoon clanked into his bowl, as he dropped it and fumbled for the remote. He’d been watching Jeopardy! with the volume low. Half the fun of the game was answering the questions himself, and really, the idiots on the show were often just distracting.

But Jeopardy! wasn’t on the screen anymore.

The Joker was.

The Joker and the current Robin.

“—play a game, shall we?” Joker said, and Jason just cursed louder as he tossed his cereal on the coffee table and jumped up.

“Hrnn,” Robin groaned, when the camera panned to him, “Who’d want to play with you?”

Fucking brat.

The poor kid looked in rough shape. His mask was slightly ripped, showing off a massive bruise right under one of his eyes. His fat lip and the blood trickling down his chin didn’t help much, either.

Oh, yeah. And the fact he was tied up and inside a tiny little cage.

How the hell had Joker got his hands on Robin?

Never mind, Jason thought, as he kicked around the shit on his floor, freeing the various pieces of his Red Hood uniform, he knew exactly how Robin got himself captured.

Batman was out of town.

And he’d left Robin in charge of Gotham.

Like a fucking moron.

“Uh, uh uh,” Joker said, “That’s no way to behave. Be a good little birdy.”

Robin groaned, when Joker stuck a stick inside Robin’s cage, and jabbed him in the side. He pressed a button, and Tim’s groan turned to a scream as he was electrocuted.

Jason grimaced.

“Now,” Joker continued, through a laugh, “The answer is ‘Topeka.’”

Joker’s stupid fucking laugh.

Jason should not be helping the bats.

He did not help the bats. The bats hated him. And, sure, they had good reason to, but it just meant Jason shouldn’t be helping them out of principle!

Why help people who hate your guts and wish you were still dead?

The bats are out of town, his mind helpfully reminded him, they can’t save Robin. And like hell was Jason going to let Joker kill another Robin.

“Shit,” he mumbled, as he grabbed his helmet and shoved it on his head. All he needed was his guns, now.

“Come now, Robin,” Joker said, “You’re disappointing the viewers at home.”

“No, you’re disappointing the viewers,” Jason snapped, as he placed three guns into his holsters, and grabbed his spare magazines, checking to make sure each was full. “No one wants to watch the fucking Joker fuck with a little kid.”

Even if that little kid was Tim Drake. And annoying as fuck.

The camera zoomed back on Robin’s face, and Robin finally mumbled out, “Capital of Kansas.”

Robin screamed, again, when Joker jabbed him with the shock stick, and Jason growled.

He grabbed his tablet and hacked into the batcomputer in record time. He wasn’t sure if Bruce knew he could still do that, but at the moment he was fucking glad he hadn’t been caught yet.

“You didn’t phrase your answer in the form of a question! Haven’t you ever watched Jeopardy!? That’s what the good folks want right now.”

“Fuck, kid,” Jason mumbled, as he triangulated a location on Robin’s tracker, “Where are you?”

Only Robin’s tracker was listed in Gotham, too. No one else was around. Not Alfred. Not Batgirl. No one.

Why the fuck did Bruce keep leaving Robin all alone?

Hadn’t he learned his lesson the first time?

Tim groaned on screen again, making Jason draw his gun and unload the full clip on the screen.

Shit.

His neighbors probably hated him.

“Where are you,” he growled at the tablet, just as Robin’s location finished loading.

Warehouse in Crime Alley.

Not even five blocks from Jason’s safe house.

Good.

- - -

The Joker had almost no henchmen guarding his warehouse.

Usually Joker’s operations were more thought through. Right?

This time it was just pathetic.

How in the ever-loving-fuck had he got his hands on Robin, anyway?

It took Jason not even ten minutes to reach the warehouse, break in, and incapacitate all ten of his thugs. It took only another fifteen seconds to climb up into the rafters, into the main area where Joker was ‘filming’ with Robin.

“Now, Robin,” Joker said, his his annoying high pitched drawl, “You are down in the negatives. You need to get this next answer correct or—”

Jason didn’t let him finish the thought.

Because he shot the Joker in the ass.

“Shut the fuck up,” Red Hood snarled, as he dropped down from the rafters, right on top of Joker, “No one cares as much as you think.”

“Hood,” Joker said, grinning wide, despite all the blood leaking out of him.

Or, well. Not much. Jason should shoot him again.

Robin would get all high and mighty, if Jason actually killed Joker.

Fucking hell.

“How nice of you to drop by!” Joker said, laughing, “We could use a second contestant.”

Yeah. Sure.

Jason brought his elbow down into Joker’s face. Hard. Breaking his nose and knocking him flat out.

“How disappointing,” Jason said, as he stood up and turned toward Robin, “That wasn’t nearly as satisfying as shooting him in the face would have been.”

Robin stayed laying there, where he was, curled up in his cage, clutching his stomach tight.

Whistling, Jason crossed the room and tried to get Tim’s attention. “Yo. Half-pint, you all right there?”

Tim didn’t react, other than to curl up tighter when Jason approached the cage and put a hand on one of the bars.

“Shit,” he mumbled, “Okay, kid. I’ll get you out.”

Ridiculously, it took longer to figure out a way to get Tim out of the cage.

He tried to pry the fucking lock open with a crowbar he found laying around…

Joker and his fucking crowbars.

But the lock wouldn’t budge, and the stupid replacement Robin kept flinching every time Jason got too near. Which, should have probably made Jason feel bad.

If he were, like, a good person.

Instead it just pissed him off enough that he grabbed the crowbar and started bashing it against the lock, until the damn thing fell off.

“Okay,” Jason said as he opened the cage door, “Tell me what the damage is, kid.”

Robin didn’t respond, so Jason reached in and placed one gloved hand on his shoulder. All he was going to do was shake it, a little. Just to make sure the kid was alive. And like, just out of it.

But apparently Robin was super out of it, because instead of growl at him or snap some dumbass quip, he jumped up and punched Jason right in the stomach.

“Fuck,” he huffed. The little sucker packed a mean one, but he was too damn out of it for it to do more than make Jason wince. “The fuck, kid? Knock it off.”

Tim jumped up, however, on top of the cage, then wobbled there as he tried to right his balance. The second Jason tried to reach out to him, to catch him before he toppled over, or some shit, Tim pulled out a couple of his stupid R shaped throwing stars and started throwing them.

“Shit,” Jason growled, as he dodged, “Kid, knock it off.”

“What do you want?” Robin asked, and with that, apparently reached the end of his spike of adrenaline.

Because the next thing Jason knew, Robin was falling off the cage bars he’d been perched on, and Jason had barely enough time to dive the few feet between them and catch the stupid runt before he landed on the concrete ground, head first.

“Get off me,” Robin demanded, thrashing about in Jason’s hold.

All it made Jason do was squeeze his arms around Tim tighter.

“Stop,” Tim said, his voice getting a little more desperate, “Get off.”

“Ow,” Jason complained, when Tim kicked him in the knee, “Would you knock it off. Am I hurting you?”

Tim stilled, for a second, and seemed to evaluate the situation. Jason was still holding onto him, but he loosed his arms a little.

“No?” Tim asked, like he wasn’t sure if that were the correct answer, or something.

Stupid brat. And they accused Jason of shooting first, asking questions later.

“Then why the fuck are you fighting me?” Jason demanded.

“You’re…” Tim said, then paused as he put a hand up to his head. Shit. Jason needed to get him back to a safe house and checked out.

Letting go of Tim completely, Jason set him down and maneuvered, so he was kneeling in front of the stupid runt. He put a hand on Tim’s head and forced his head back, a little, so Jason could get a good look at it. He could see one of Tim’s eyes, due to his mask having so much damage on it, and it looked like Tim was at least making eye contact.

Or, at least. As much eye contact as he could when Jason was wearing a helmet.

“You’re the Red Hood?” Tim finally answered.

Jason merely huffed. “Yeah. And you’re the boy hostage. Where are you hurt?”

“What?” Tim demanded, “Why do you care?” and Jason rolled his eyes.

“Like I’m gonna let Joker kill you. That’s my job.”

Okay.

Wrong thing to say.

Because Tim’s eye grew wide, and he shuffled backward, out of Jason’s reach, kicking his feet.

Jason tried to grab his feet, to make him stop, but Tim kept kicking, and got Jason right in the ribs.

“Ouch, stop it. I was kidding.” Tim got him on the chin, and Jason snapped, “Just stop. I’m trying to help you.”

“Why,” Tim demanded, as Jason finally caught one of his legs and held it up high enough that Tim lost his balance.

It was kind of amusing, how Tim landed on his back, and just groaned.

“Why’s there gotta be a reason?” he asked, “Maybe I don’t want to see another Robin die!”

“You beat me near to death like two minutes ago,” Tim shouted, pulling at his foot, and not succeeding in freeing himself.

Because Jason was standing, and Tim was short. It would be no trouble at all for Jason to just lift Tim right up off the ground entirely by his leg.

“It’s been four months, stop being dramatic.”

“You expect me to believe you’ve changed enough since then that it matters?” Tim demanded, just as he pulled another throwing star out and threw it at Jason.

Too bad for Tim, Jason saw it coming a mile away. And just caught it.

“Yep!” he cheered, “You done now? You’re, like, super out if it and your fight sucks. If you couldn’t tell.”

Robin mumbled something Jason didn’t catch, so Jason dropped his foot, and tried not to grin too wide when Tim groaned when his body hit the ground.

He didn’t fall too far.

And Jason was sure his head and upper back had been on the ground, already, before he let go.

“Can you walk on your own?” he asked.

Once Tim stopped being all dramatic about everything, he grumbled out a, “No,” so Jason knelt down next to him and offered a hand, to help Tim sit up.

Tim glared at him with so much derision, it risked making Jason laugh.

Instead, all he said was, “Then stop fucking fighting me and let me help.”

“Fine,” Tim snapped, lifting an arm up so Jason could wrap it around Jason’s shoulders, “But if you try anything, I’m calling for Superman.”

“Whatever,” Jason said, as he hefted Tim to his feet, and started making toward the warehouse exit, “Just shut up and let me get you out of here.”

Tim was in pretty rough shape.

Jason already knew that, of course, but it became even more obvious as they made their way back to Jason’s safe house.

Mostly because Jason did all the fucking work.

Tim’s left leg was obviously fucked up. Jason was a little glad he hadn’t held that leg up in the air, because then he’d feel guilty.

And that wasn’t it. He kept clutching at his stomach, and Jason was willing to bet there was at least some pretty bad burns there from all the zapping.

Dragging Tim’s ass up the side of Jason’s building was easy, of course. But annoying. Because Jason had to hold onto Tim tight, because the stupid brat’s grip kept loosening whenever Jason jostled him too much.

“Shit kid,” Jason mumbled, as he pushed Tim through the window to his safe house, “I can’t believe Bruce leaves his fucking kid all alone to protect Gotham when he’s out of town.”

Because, seriously.

This was ridiculous.

Tim was fucked up. And it was all Bruce’s fault.

“M’not his kid,” Tim mumbled, as he stumbled a few feet inside Jason’s safe house, over to the couch. He collapsed down with an oof.

Jason rolled his eyes and closed the window behind him, after he jumped inside. “You are too a kid,” he said, unsnapping his helmet and tossing it down on the ground, “You’re like, thirteen.”

Tim followed Jason with his eyes, even as he sank into the couch a little more, and said, “I’m fifteen. And I said I’m not his kid.”

“Fifteen!” Jason shouted, tossing his gloves on the ground. His safe house was pretty small, so his kitchen was his living room. And he, thankfully, had a pretty good first aid kit sitting in the cabinet under his sink. “That’s how old I was. And obviously I meant his son, you idiot.”

“I’m not his son either,” Tim said.

Jason paused, as he was pulling his kit out, and looked up over the counter at the little brat.

“He didn’t adopt you?”

Hadn’t Talia said….?

How the fuck was he even Robin?

“No,” Tim exclaimed, “I have a dad.”

Is that why Bruce was more lenient on Tim? Because he wasn’t his son?

Bruce never let Jason out of his fucking sight as Robin.

He’d thought that was because he didn’t trust Jason, and clearly he trusted Tim.

But was it maybe because he’d adopted….

Nope. Not thinking about this.

“And he lets you run around with the bats?” Jason asked, finally crossing back over to Tim and slamming the first aid kit down on the coffee table.

Tim jumped, but then scowled at Jason and said, “It’s not like he can stop me.”

“Seriously, kid?”

“Look. It’s none of your business. Are you gonna let me go?”

In that state? Not bloody likely.

But instead of say that, and get Robin all fighty again, Jason said, “I’m not keeping you prisoner, but let me look at your injuries.”

Tim rolled his eyes, but sank back down into the couch and mumbled, “I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” Jason said, pointing toward the stomach Tim was still clutching, “lemme see.”

It took a second of Tim glaring, but he finally relented and lifted his shirt, and Jason could only wince in sympathy.

“Damn, Timbo,” he said, looking at the criss crossing scorch marks littering his abdomen, “Those look fun. I’ve got some burn cream that should help.”

Jason worked on Tim’s injuries in silence for a good ten minutes. He had so many burns, Jason kind of wanted to go back and shoot Joker in the ass again, just for inflicting them.

And maybe go find Bruce and shoot him in the ass, for leaving Tim all alone for this to happen in the first place.

“That one needs stitches,” Jason said, after he’d pulled Tim’s sleeves up, inspecting his arms for any more burns to treat. Instead, he found a jagged knife wound, that was still oozing a little. “Did you think you could hide it from me?”

Tim pulled his arm closer to himself, and mumbled, “S’not that bad.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and pulled out his suture kit. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Amazingly, Tim didn’t fight him at all, when he took his arm back and started cleaning the wound enough so he could apply the local anesthetic and start stitching it up.

Instead, all Tim did was stare at him, a little blankly.

It was actually unnerving.

“What?” he snapped.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told you,” Jason scoffed, readjusting his hold on Tim’s arm so he could get the last few stitches in straight, “I’m not letting Joker kill another Robin.”

And, sure. Stitching the kid up and treating all his burns was going a little above and beyond.

But Jason would feel a little bad if he, like, bled to death or whatever.

“Yeah,” Tim said, blinking hard as he ran his free hand through his hair, “But like, you coulda just took him out and left. Why’re you— ow.”

“Whoops,” Jason said, bearing his teeth a little as he grinned at the accidental needle prick he gave Tim outside the numbed area, “Are you seriously complaining? Don’t you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

Tim was rich, wasn’t he? Weren’t they taught that shit, too?

Jason was pretty sure Bruce never let him be ungrateful about gifts. Not that Jason would, of course. But even Bruce Wayne taught his kids to be thankful for what they had…

Then again. Tim apparently wasn’t Bruce’s kid…

“When that gift horse tries to kill us every other week, no,” Tim said.

“Shut up,” Jason scoffed, “I haven’t messed with you idiots in months.”

Which was, absolutely, completely, 89% true.

He hadn’t attempted anything fatal on them in months. Fucked with their cases for the laughs? Maybe.

Mostly just Bruce’s. When it didn’t get anyone hurt, of course.

Just because it was fun to fuck with Bruce.

Because fuck Bruce.

“Yeah, but— ow.”

Jason might have stabbed him again.

“All done,” he said, before Tim could get out whatever it was he was going to protest, “Congratulations, you’ll survive. You can sleep here. I’m burning the safe house tomorrow, though.”

He’d shot the TV. So it was pretty useless now, anyway.

“Next time you get captured by the Joker, I’m shooting you in the ass, got it?”

“Yeah,” Tim said, rolling his eyes as he settled back on the couch a little more comfortably, “Whatever.”

Jason watched as Tim pulled his legs up and clearly just… collapsed there. To sleep. And rolled his eyes even harder.

Like that would be comfortable.

On his way to the window, after he’d put his helmet back on, Jason grabbed the blanket and pillow from under the coffee table and threw it right at Tim’s head.

Tim scowled, but did readjust himself so he looked at least slightly more comfortable.

Satisfied, Jason nodded and said, “Kay. Tell Bats I said fuck him. Later, squirt.”

“Thanks, Jason,” Tim mumbled, just as Jason was slipping out of the window.

Heh. The runt wasn’t so bad, after all.

Maybe.

But Jason was not going to make a habit of this. No way.

If he did, he’d have to go shoot Batman in the ass, for letting his stupid little Robin get hurt.

That would be fun, actually.

#whumptober2020 #no.4 #caged #batman #batfam #red hood #robin #tim drake #jason todd #c writes #fanfiction #injuries #hurt/comfort #batbros #cross posted to ao3

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outoftheframework · 4 years

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characterization cheat sheet: the batfamily boys

Hey everyone! I had the idea to compile a comprehensive list of different traits and attributes for each member of the batfamily based off of both canon and fanon interpretations. I think this could be useful for new members to the fandom, or those looking to write and/or draw for these characters. Remember that these will have a slight bias considering I, a fanon creator, am creating the lists. But I’ll try to make them as accurate as possible.

Appearances vary from artist to artist, so I’ll try to stray away from general details and add more little things you can consider in your art.

Bruce Wayne:

Age: 35-45

Appearance: Extremely physically fit, but signs of aging and prolonged exertion can slip through. Has a collection of scattered scars varying from fresh to fully healed. Strong, dark features. Conventionally attractive, but can easily switch to be foreboding/intimidating. Well kept in public appearances, but can look like death incarnate when in private.

Personality: Dual personas: “Bruce” (at home, but not as batman) and “Brucie” (public appearances like galas, news interviews). Bruce is stoic, well-read and educated, well-mannered, and occasionally can be witty and laid-back. Smirks rather than smiles. Brucie is loud, spontaneous, charming, and sometimes oblivious. He is the womanizer and scandal-maker. Often the actions of Brucie are motivated by Batman’s interests.

Speech: Bruce was mainly raised by as English butler, so his speech patterns are proper and smooth. Rarely uses speech fillers such as “uh” and “um,” except when interrupted while concentrating. Despite living in Gotham his entire life, he has not picked up the accent. His voice is newscaster American, almost impossible to pinpoint to a certain region. His speech as Brucie changes to relate more to the audience he is addressing. Speeches to Gotham high society will sound different than those aimed to the general public.

Additional Attributes: Bruce Wayne in all of his personalities is fiercely protective, and can easily slip into a deeper voice to intimidate. Bruce can be extremely empathetic and slightly impulsive when it comes to children who have lost their parents. As learned through his training to become Batman, Bruce is disciplined and can work for hours straight.

Dick Grayson:

Age: 23-29

Appearance: Dick Grayson mirrors a young Bruce Wayne despite their not being blood related. This could be a subconscious action by Dick to absorb traits of his father figure. His lean acrobatic body starts to set him apart from Bruce’s image. Dick manages to be well-built but still limber and flexible. His feet and hands are rough and calloused. His hair can get long but usually stays at a length in between Bruce’s and Tim’s. His eyes are bright blue without even a hint of green or brown.

Personality: In one comic I believe it was Superman who said that Dick Grayson is a universal constant, meaning that on every alternate earth or timeline, you can always rely on him to be good and pure. I think this really sums up who Dick should be. He is kind to a fault, and can sometimes be naive and not think things through. He loves to love, be that in his family, in his romantic relationships, in his friendships, and even in strangers. He is a chronic hero who only wants to see the world as a better place. But it’s important to note that Dick can get angry when pushed, and holds grudges.

Speech: Dick is an extremely interesting study in speech patterns. As a child he traveled with the circus, until he lived with clear-spoken Bruce Wayne and a proper English butler. So influences to his speech and accent come both internationally and locally to Gotham and Bludhaven. As a child living at Wayne Manor, Dick picks up a slight Gotham tinge to his accent with some British flourish in his vowel sounds. He regularly speaks in slang. As Nightwing he is able to suppress his unique speech to sound more evenly American.

Additional Attributes: Dick acts differently around each of his family members as to be what they need in a big brother. For example, he is more fatherly to Damian while to Tim he is more an equal. Dick can fidget and has less of an attention span than Bruce. He can use jokes as a coping mechanism.

Jason Todd:

Age: 22-26

Appearance: Hair is often long on top and shorter on the sides, sometimes with a white streak as a side effect from the Lazarus Pit. Tallest and heaviest of all the kids, very physically intimidating. Has a lot of scars and burns, and in some fan works he has a “Y” shaped scar the length of his chest from his autopsy. Never skips leg day. Green/blue eyes.

Personality: Jason goes through a lot of character development, but for this list I’m going off a timeline of post-Under the Red Hood, where Jason is on okay, yet still a little shaky, terms with the rest of the family. Jason has a hard time separating vigilante life and civilian life; his death as Robin ended his life as Jason Todd, blurring the lines between the two. Jason is legally dead, so he is basically building an identity back up. He holds some attributes from childhood: brave, impulsive, loud-mouthed, and street-smart. But his experiences post-Robin have made him a hardened loner. He lives modestly and with some semblance of order. He’s hard to foster a relationship with, but can be a passionate friend/family member when he opens up.

Speech: Jason probably has the least influence from Bruce and Alfred’s speech patterns, seeing as though he spent a lot more time with his biological family/on the streets than he did as a preteen in the manor. He is the definition of Gotham vernacular, with a rough edge. So much so that as a child, the high society gala attenders sometimes had a hard time understanding him. Often talks in curt, short sentences.

Additional Attributes: He has trouble expressing his emotions, more specifically anger and/or grief. Can both love or hate furiously. Inherently good, but sometimes does “bad” things. Protective over children, especially those living on the street. Very much a believer in “the ends justify the means.”

Tim Drake:

Age: 17-20

Appearance: Pale skin, dark hair. Sharp cheek bones and jawline, mostly from how skinny he is. His body isn’t technically “built” to be extremely athletic, but he’s forced a nice lean build from stringently working out. Easily loses and gains weight as a direct result of his work, causing fluctuations in his build. Five foot something, will eventually be out-grown by Damian. Long hair that can still be styled to look professional.

Personality: Tim Drake is very passionate in pretty much everything he sets his mind to. He feels as though he imposed himself onto Batman to become Robin, so he works twice as hard to prove his worth. He can be self conscious and deprecating. Tim as Robin or Red Robin is very different than civilian Tim; his hero personas can be bolder and more confident. Despite dropping out of high school, he values education.

Speech: Tim grew up rich, and his speech reflects an intelligence gained from private tutors. Despite this, he knows how to interact with those his age in using less formal language and slang. Often quotes books and movies. Can be awkward and stumble over his words when teased by his friends/family. He can manipulate people easily in business settings by talking fast and confidently while explaining complex topics.

Additional Attributes: Tim’s demeanor is directly tied to his varying levels of confidence and anxiety. Tim is has above-average intelligence and is diligent in detective work, but can still act like a teenager. He can be stubborn to extremes and will patiently play the long con. He does not cope well with loss.

Duke Thomas:

Age: 17-19

Appearance: Short dark hair, shaved on the sides and/or the back. Often wears the colors yellow and black. Around the same height as Tim, but a little taller. Stronger and heavier build more alike to Jason than Dick, but he’s still light on his feet. Expressive face that can give away his feelings easily. Still a bit of a baby face, but he’s still well-proportioned and conventionally handsome.

Personality: In my works, I’ve often described Duke as having a “sun-shiny” personality. He is one to not even think twice about putting others before himself. Duke uses his own personal experiences to guide him as a hero rather than suppress his emotions. Duke went from being an only child to having a large family, so he can sometimes feel overwhelmed. He is on friendly terms with every member of the batfamily, as well as many other heroes. Duke is self-sacrificial and is still learning how to effectively work as a detective.

Speech: Duke grew up in a middle class Gotham family, so his speech is influenced by his parents as well as his city environment. Duke has a mild Gotham accent and speaks a lot in modern slang. He hasn’t had much influence from Bruce and Alfred, considering he hasn’t lived with them for long. It’s possible that as he grows he will pick up some influences from Bruce and Tim’s way of speaking, but will most likely hold onto the accent of his childhood.

Additional Attributes: Duke is a metahuman vigilante in a city where Batman typically bans them, which causes a bit of an insecurity and a perfectionist drive. These are exasperated by the long line of history preceding him, as well as the fact that he involved himself in the Robin movement rather than being handpicked by Batman. He and Tim can relate in that way. Duke is an ardent student of Batman and is dedicated to the cause.

Damian Wayne:

Age: 10-14

Appearance: Looks similar to Bruce when he was the same age, yet stronger and with tanner skin. His hair is expertly cut and styled, but still age-appropriate. He is the shortest of the batkids, but still has a lot of time and potential to grow. He pretty much won the genetics lottery with Bruce and Talia as his biological parents, and is made for athletics. He has some scars that stand out with their pale coloring against his tan skin.

Personality: Damian is slowly becoming less of a brat, to put it bluntly. He admires his family and tries to mimic them, but will never confess it. Damian is quick to judge and will voice his opinion no matter how scathing it may be, both as civilian and hero. Damian is slowly realizing he may not want the Batman mantle as quickly as he planned. Jon is a perfect foil to Damian, and often makes him a better person when they’re together.

Speech: His speech is proper and formal. Prefers formal titles: ex. “father” over “dad” and last names over first. Damian is at least bilingual (Arabic and English), and can switch between languages easily. Most of his speech patterns developed from his tutors in the League, and more recently, Alfred. Influences like Jon and Dick have introduced him to a more modern, laid-back way of speaking, which he sometimes utilizes when relaxed.

Additional Attributes: Damian has problems with authority, especially those that he doesn’t respect like his teachers at school. He can be arrogant and childish ever though he often acts like he knows everything. Damian is still a child and has much to learn from batman and family as well as unlearn from his time at the League. Dami was forged to be a ruthless warrior, but now has to find a balance between the hero Robin and the child Damian Wayne.

Hope this helps someone! Feel free to add on if you think I missed anything. Just please remember to be civil and respect different interpretations of these characters. Let me know if you want another one of these posts outlining the girls or other characters.

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mental-dilemma · 3 years

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DATPT part 5

The boys have a conversation with Bruce before all hell breaks loose.

we're gonna ignore the fact I haven't posted in months, for compensation can I give you an extra-long chapter? BTW yes I did finish editing this during class, I'm also not great with pranking siblings, and since this was the way to tell them bout Marinette/Ladybug I ran with it.

Read from the beginning:

“Ok, Damian, have fun.” Dick turned to his brothers. “Well, boys it looks like we’ll have the apartment to ourselves Damian’s staying with Marinette tonight.”

“And you're ok with that?!” Jason asked, shocked Dick would let their youngest brother stay over with his girlfriend.

“Oh don’t give me that they’re both eighteen now and something tells me Marinette’s parents will keep more than one eye on them. So what do you guys want to do tonight.” The three brothers had decided that this trip to Paris would also be family time, especially considering how they didn’t really get any of that during the year.

“Movie?” Tim asked.

“Which one.” Jason was not watching another

“How bout this one?” Tim picked up the box that Damian had left sitting out on the coffee table earlier that morning. Jason plucked it from Tim’s hands and began reading the title. “Night of the living statue. Are you sure this doesn’t even seem scary?”

“I mean there’s always the crowbar wielding clown we could watch.”

“Oh yeah, that one got burned a while ago.”

“Fair enough.”

“So Night of the living statue it is,” Dick said, already making the popcorn.

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

“No don’t go into the basement, oh come on!” Jason was yelling at the screen.

“Jason you know they can’t hear you right?” Tim said rolling his eyes, which were illuminated by the laptop screen sitting in front of him.

“I don’t care Replacement the fact they’re doing it goes against every bit of common sense, it just doesn’t make, well--”

“Sense?” Dick supplied walking back into the room with the third popcorn bucket of the evening.

“Exactly I just don’t get it!” Jason held out his hands and made a grabbing motion for the bucket Dick easily sidestepped him and plopped down between the two.

“Ok, Tim popcorns back computers off.” He said as he finished getting settled.

“But I’m almost in, five more minutes and we get authentic Wayne manor security footage, and that’s better than any movie.

“Rules are rules replacement you agreed to the trade so you have to deal with it,” Jason said munching on popcorn.

“He’s right, and anyway if you keep going at it we’re gonna get a call from Al-” Right on cue, the video call screen popped up on Tim’s computer. He groaned before hitting accept.

“Hey, Alf good to see ya ol’ buddy ol’ pal! How’s the good ol’ USofA?” He said in an overly perky voice.

“Master Drake if I might request you stop attempting to hack onto the Batcave system it would be much appreciated.” Alfred’s voice rang over the call.

“Just hacking into security footage, huh?” Dick said glaring at Tim, Paris was a no hero weekend and Tim just broke that.

“I uh… I’m gonna go.” He said ending the call, moving quickly he closed his laptop grabbed a handful of popcorn, bolted over the couch to the room he was staying in, and closed the door.

“Well, that’s the last we’ll be seeing of him tonight,” Dick said moving to grab his phone. He opened up Alfred’s contact at called him back. “Sorry, Alfred he’s just itching to get a case. He’s gotten really bored seeing Paris like a normal person, well as normal as you can get given we’re Waynes.”

“Don’t worry about it I have one of those as well.” He panned his camera over to where Bruce was sitting cowl down at the computer in the Batcave. Dick and Jason both gave a small laugh.

“How is he doing?” Dick asked.

“Oh same as usual, sulking during the night, acting like a complete buffon during the day.” Jason laughed, Dick heard Bruce mutter through the phone, and Alfred brought the camera over to Bruce.

“Hey, Bruce how ya doing?” Dick asked innocently.

“How am I doing? Let’s see Richard, my sons hijacked the plane to go to Paris on a whim with no planning whatsoever, I got a call from Damian’s school that he was absent today. I'm also dealing with a very angry Italian ambassador, oh and with all the girls out on other missions I’m dealing with the entirety of Gotham and WE by myself for who knows how long. How do you think I feel?” The bags under Bruce’s eyes were more pronounced than usual as he berated his two older sons for a few more minutes, “now do you two have a reasonable explanation, or am I going to be feeding your asses to Harley Quinn for therapy sessions this week.”

“Damian has a girlfriend,” Dick said smoothly, Alfred and Bruce both paused, looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

“Please Dick if you’re gonna come up with an excuse at least make it a plausible one,” Bruce said while Alfred was attempting to compose himself in the background.

“I’m telling the truth, her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s in his class and apparently, they’ve been dating for the last few months.”

“I’m going to search her up and if you’re lying to me it’s three therapy sessions with Quinn.” Dick shivered remembering the last time that happened, He had been suspended over a shark tank until he admitted he needed to start putting himself first. Bruce typed a few things on the computer and let out a sharp whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“See I told you,” Dick said smugly.

“That doesn’t change the fact that---” Bruce was cut off as they heard a scream come from Tim’s room.

“Sorry, Bruce gotta go check that out. Call you later.” Dick ended the video

following Jason to Tim’s room where they saw him sitting over his computer furiously banging on the keyboard.

“Woah Woah replacement if you keep that up then there won’t be any computer left to type with.”

“I don’t care! Someone cut the power and I was in the middle of checking Parisian crime records.

“Don’t freak out,” Dick said calmly, “I’ll go check the fuse box, you and Jason can go check the router. Ok?”

“Ok,” Tim said taking a breath. He put his computer aside and walked out of the room with Jason following him. Dick tried to call Damian to find out where the fuse box was, but for some reason couldn’t get a signal inside the apartment. He walked out onto the balcony waving his phone up wildly seeing if a bar would show up. He sighed as he brought his phone down. Nothing. As he turned to go back inside he felt a small pinch on his neck he moved to swat at it and he felt nothing. As he stepped forwards his eyelids began drooping, he stumbled and reached for the railing. He missed and before he slipped into unconsciousness he felt the bite of cold cement against his arms.

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

When Dick woke up the sun was streaming through the living room window. He felt a weight on his stomach and when he stretched his neck up he saw Jason was lying on him, with Tim lying on the top of the pile. He laid there a moment as the night caught up to him, he began formulating who would knock them out, and how he was going to get out of this dogpile when a sharp“Ahem” sounded from the doorway. Standing there was Damian in jeans and a shirt.

“Well, it looks like you guys had a blast last night,” Marinette said poking her head in. It was the first time Dick had seen her without pigtails, instead, she had her blue-black locks tied back in a messy bun and she was suspiciously wearing Damian’s sweatshirt.

“You want to tell me why Father called me last night wanting to know all about my girlfriend and why I hadn’t told him about her yet.” Jason and Tim gave simultaneous groans of annoyance as Dick hopped up.

“Listen Damian I can explain,” He said stepping forward. He felt something hook his foot. “What the--” he got out before red paint came crashing down on top of him. Jason and Tim, both awake now, shot up trying in vain to avoid the downpour only to stumble into more strings. Before anyone could blink glitter rained down from the ceiling sticking to the paint coating the boys. A camera flash later saw them giving the death glare to Damian as he and Marinette stood off to the side trying not to laugh.

“What. the. Hell.” Dick said as he wiped paint from his eyes.

“If you want to live Demonspawn you better hope that this paint comes out,” Jason said as he attempted to shake glitter from his hair.

“If Con ever finds that picture Jason isn’t gonna be the one you should be scared of,” Tim said dangerously low. Damian finally cracked and started laughing. Collectively the three batboys stopped and looked up in shock. They hadn’t heard Damian laugh before, sure they’ve heard the evil laugh and the Robin laugh but never his laugh, it was soft light, and infectious. Before long Marinette was laughing too, while Jason Tim and Dick were all smiling.

“Ok you were right that was better than anything I could think up,” Damian said as he composed himself.

“Hey give some credit to Luka,” Marinette said, “He was the one who suggested glitter.”

Jason’s eyes widened as he realized that not only did Demon spawn pull a nonlethal prank, but Marinette was in on it. Not just Marinette but some kid named Luka too.

“Wait back up, you’re telling me you guys decided that you should knock us out, and then dump red paint and glitter on us?” Tim said blearily.

“Well, we couldn’t just come out and tell you,” Marinette responded.

“Well we could, but this is revenge for your little family trip,” Damian interjected.

“Tell us what? That you hate us with a passion? You’re an evil psychopath?”

“You know for a family of detectives you guys can be rather slow.” Marinette slammed a hand over her mouth realizing what she had said. “I’m sorry I didn’t me--”

“I love you so much right now,” Damian said gawking at her, Marinette blushed.

“Ok, will one of you two please talk to us rather than whatever,” Jason gestured vaguely to the two of them, “that is.”

“What color is the glitter?” Marinette said as she turned her attention from Damian. She sounded almost like a school teacher would when talking to children.

“Black…” The boys responded in unison.

“And what color is the paint?”

“Red.”

“So what’s red and covered in black spots.”

“Lady----- Oh for fucks sake,” Tim said slapping his hand on his forehead.

“There it is,” Marinette said triumphantly, a smile spreading across her lips. A few moments later Jason and Dick both gasped as the information finally sunk in.

“Why can’t anyone in this family be normal.” The second youngest Wayne lamented.

“Well, at least this means you can join my team and me on patrols. I bet that’ll make Paris a little more interesting.” Tim perked up.

“Woah. Woah. Woah. We can talk all that out later but you need to go get cleaned up before the paint stains the carpet.” Damian interrupted, he didn’t like the fact Marinette was talking about patrol with his brothers.

“I would like to remind you that this was your plan, Damian,” Dick said.

“It may be my plan but it’s someone else’s carpet now go.”

The three boys were shepherded to the bathroom while Damian and Marinette cleaned up the mess left in the living room. All three of them were rather impressed with the way the two of them had revealed Marinette’s identity, although it went unspoken how if anyone revealed it there would be serious consequences.

It took them over an hour to even begin making a dent in the glitter-paint combination that covered their bodies. Dick having been directly under the bucket had it the worst, with Jason coming in at a close second. Jason thought he had at least gotten out the stuff in his hair during his shower, only to look in the mirror and let out a quiet fuck. Dick gave him a questioning look, in response, Jason just pointed to his hair. Where his white streak was now stained a deep crimson. “This means war.”

Tag list (closed):

@ur-average-reader @dast218 @allulily @acoursedprophetwithasmothie @k-laconia-bug1 @smolplantmum @g-arya @loysydark @mewwitch @itsemeanne @hauntedstudent99 @pawsitivelymiraculous @clumsy-owl-4178 @eeveeofstewjon @demonicbusiness @zotinha456 @t1dwarrior-of-earth @chocolateherringtacofan @abrx2002 @toodaloo-kangaroo @wannajointhecrabcult @miraculous-simmer7 @notmycupoftea26 @legodetectivemalsblog @fusser90 @ladyrwby @buginetye

#damian wayne x marinette dupain cheng #damientte #damianette #marinette dupen chang #Damian wayne #Maribat #Maribat au #Marinette #Damian #Jason todd #dick greyson #tim drake #ml fic

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bat-losers-inc · 3 years

Text

Song of Cassandra: Chapter 2

Warnings: Family Drama, Family Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotional Baggage, and Child Neglect

Summary: What is Batman without a Robin? Everyone in the family makes jokes about the ‘dead robins club’, but Dick and Jason really do have measures set in place for the day Bruce loses sight of what’s really important. They won’t let Bruce sacrifice another Robin for the cause, even if that means separating Robin from Batman for good.

Pairings: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, and Dick Grayson & Jason Todd

_____________________________________

Half a year later saw them performing a feat of brotherly bonding he’d never imagined possible: robbing Penguin together.

They’d left the Tricorner district behind in a streak of burnt rubber and a barrage of gunfire and ditched the getaway van in Chinatown at the first available 24-hour parking facility on the other side of the bridge. It was slower going on foot, but Chinatown’s busy night scene, combined with the heavy triad presence in this district, would make Penguin’s men hesitate before going in guns blazing. That was all the time they needed to slip away unseen.

Now, as they emerged from the darkness of the parking deck, Dick yanked the balaclava off his head. He grunted something unintelligible as he shouldered his way through the cluster of pedestrians that crowded the sidewalk.

“What?” asked Jason, pulling his own half-mask down from around his neck and jogging to catch up.

“I said, you’re a real bastard. You promised me this was would be easy!”

Jason glanced at him. He wanted to be sympathetic but he just couldn’t when Dick was glaring at him with that staticky mop of hair. He couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice when he replied, “You’re the one who said we shouldn’t leave a paper trail! This is about as easy as stealing from Penguin’s bagman gets.”

In truth, he thought they were complaining just for the sake of complaining. After six months they both knew that pulling off this heist was less a matter of choice and more a matter of necessity. Failure meant returning to the storage locker Dick had procured outside of Port Adams and staring down their measly little bat-trust-fund: six safehouses, fifteen rolls of Kevlar fabric, a small arsenal, twenty-seven contacts typed into a Word document, and $5,025 split five ways. But what use would kevlar suits be if their siblings couldn’t afford to keep a roof over their heads? No, without the cash it was worth fuck-all.

Dick looked like he wanted to argue the point further but at that moment a convoy of police vehicles shot past them, sirens wailing and horns blaring loud enough to deafen a person. No doubt by now Penguin’s men had informed their boss about the botched exchange and pinned the blame on their nearest rivals, the Ghost Dragons. If that was the case, then Chinatown was a powder keg ready to explode into a minor gang war at any moment.

A flash of light reflected off the windows of a nearby apartment building. Jason stepped in between two parked cars to get a better look and found himself staring up at the cloud-heavy night sky illuminated in the glow of the bat signal.

He gripped the heavy duffel bag full of stolen cash closer to his chest like he expected Gotham’s dark knight to swoop down at any moment and tear it from his shoulder.

“Hey,” Dick tugged at his arm. “time to go.”

Batman was on the way and like the best of Gotham’s criminals, Jason and Dick made themselves scarce.

It took nearly forty minutes and three subway lines to make their way back to the self-storage facility. By then a pale glow had crept up from the horizon and spread across the water. Around them, the street lights began to shut off one after another. In the distance, Jason could just make out a tugboat as it pushed a barge out towards the open ocean.

By the time Dick pulled the storage locker door down behind them, they were tired-eyed and footsore.

Jason threw the duffel bag onto a table and propped himself against it as he fished one-handed under his t-shirt to undo the straps of his protective vest. He sighed in relief as the weight lifted off his shoulders. “How the hell did you stand wearing these things when you were on the force? Even with the undershirt, the chaffing is god-awful.”

“You get used to it,” Dick replied, making quick work of removing his own gear.

Jason doubted it but he was too tired to argue his point further. Instead, he found the six-pack that he’d stashed under the table earlier that day and snapped off a can.

“Heads up,” he called, as he pitched a can underhand to Dick who caught it against his chest.

Dick held it up for inspection. “Warm beer. What I’ve always wanted.”

“Oh shut up and celebrate with me, you asshole.”

He extended his arm across the table. Dick knocked beer cans with him and completely failed at hiding the shy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, though god bless him he tried. “Cheers.”

Jason watched him crack open the top and chuckled as he hurriedly slurped at the foam that erupted over the rim. He knew that this morally gray lifestyle didn’t come easy to Dick but he couldn’t deny that he was happy he had stuck around with him for this long. He didn’t dare to say it out loud, but they actually made good partners.

He took a long drink from his own beer can before putting it aside. “Ok, come on. The faster we count this cash the sooner we can go to bed.”

Jason upturned the duffel bags, sending stacks of cash sliding out onto the metal tabletop while Dick pulled the banknote counter from the corner and lugged the machine up next to the pile. Together they started slipping the currency bands loose and feeding the stacks of cash into the machine, watching eagerly as the sum continued to tick upwards.

“Soo…” Jason drummed his thumbs on the table as the numbers continued to flash on the small screen, “How are things going with you and Babs?”

“What?” Dick’s eyebrows drew together. “Why?”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m a little curious about what she thinks you do when you’re out late all the time… also, I’m bored.”

“You’re weird, is what you are.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Seriously? We’ve only spent the past six months together moonlighting as vigilante survivalists and I can’t ask one time how your love life is going.”

“No, no. Sorry, you’re right.” Dick held up a hand. “I told her I’ve been helping you out with an undercover case for a couple of months now. Said I owed you a favor.”

Jason grinned at him. “Well, that’s not a lie. Quite a few actually, but who’s counting.”

Dick punched him in the shoulder. “Actually, I should call her. Reassure her you didn’t get me killed before she calls in a search party.”

Jason chuckled and went back to the task of feeding bills into the machine as Dick rummaged through the backpack and fished out his phone.

“Hey, uhh...”

Jason glanced up and took in Dick’s furrowed expression as he stared down at his phone. He put down the stack of cash he was holding. “What’s the matter?”

“Something happened while we were out. I — shit I don’t know how to explain it but I’ve got like 15 missed messages from Barbara and Alfred. Did you bring your phone with you?”

Jason grabbed his backpack where his own phone was stashed and opened it to find a similar mass of missed calls and incoherently excited messages cluttering the screen. Some of the numbers he recognized, Steph, Barbara, and Alfred were all saved in his phone, but a few were from unknown senders. If he had to venture some guesses he’d say Cass, Duke… maybe Harper? Fuck, he never realized this many bat brats had his number. “I don’t get it… something about Tim? What about hell?”

“I’m calling Babs.”

Jason was aware of how uncomfortably loud their breathing sounded in the small storage locker as they stood around the table waiting for Dick’s call to connect.

“Dick?” Barbara’s voice asked loudly through the speaker. “Thank God! Where have you been? I’ve been calling and calling you.”

“Sorry, undercover mission, remember? What’s the big emergency? I didn’t get anything from Bruce.”

“You need to get back to the manor. Bruce found Tim!”

That didn’t make any sense. “What? You mean Bruce found Tim’s remains?”

Jason smacked his arm. “His remains? Are you fucking serious? What remains could Bruce possibly find after a death like that?”

“I don’t know, bone fragments—”

Dick’s argument sounded flimsy the moment it left his mouth and they both knew it. Jason just really hated to be the one who had to say it.

“If the heat from that explosion didn’t finish him off entirely then the pounding impact of like a hundred thousand missiles definitely did in whatever remains might have been left.”

“Guys—” called Babs.

“Oh, so you’re a forensic scientist now? You don’t know that—“

“Yes, I do!” He slammed a hand down on the table, his anger flaring. He really couldn’t do this backslide back into denial with Dick again. “There’s a reason we buried an empty box. Tim is literally dust in the wind.”

“Jesus Christ!” Barbara’s voice erupted loudly through the speakerphone. “Kill it with the broody back and forth already and actually listen to me, would you? I’m not talking about bone fragments or anything like that. I’m saying Bruce found Tim. Tim! He’s alive.”

Jason met Dick’s eyes over the phone, confusion written as starkly across Dick’s face as it must have been on his own. “What? I— What?”

“I really don’t understand it all myself. But Tim said he’s been held captive by Mr. Oz in another dimension for this whole time. Can you believe it? All this time we thought he was dead and...”

Jason didn’t catch that last bit. He was too busy bent over the table as all the blood rushed to his head.

He was gonna hurl. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

They’d all given up on the hope of Tim miraculously surviving a long time ago and this sudden news felt like he was experiencing emotional whiplash. This had to be some kind of sick joke or a trick... a doppelganger sent by the newest enemy on the rise against Batman.

Dick’s thoughts were apparently spiraling in the same direction as his own for he ran a hand roughly across his mouth and asked, “You saw him yourself? You’re sure it’s him, our Tim?”

But it wasn’t a big cosmic joke. As much as Jason couldn’t believe it, it wasn’t and that was made clear with every new piece of information Babs gave them.

“Yes, he was standing right in front of me only an hour ago — crying and hugging everyone.”

Dick turned to look at Jason, but he was already rounding the table and yanking Dick into a bruising hug.

“He’s alive,” Dick cried into the shoulder of his t-shirt. His voice overflowed with the most contagiously hysterical mixture of joy. Jason laughed through his own tears. “You bet your ass he is!”

He couldn’t explain what had come over him. He and Dick had never really been close — and they definitely weren’t huggers — but the last few months had been so full of this gnawing air of anxiety — their family continuing to fracture, the resources running dry — that the full realization was starting to hit them that this plan might have been formed too late to do any real good. They could feel the clock running out and they were both expecting the other shoe to drop any day now but then out of the blue… this.

Dick pushed away from him suddenly and wiped at his eyes.

“Uh…” he tried to clear his throat. “We, uh, we should get back to the cave and go see him for ourselves. Babs, he still there, right?”

“Yeah, Bruce is debriefing him.”

And just like that, Jason’s joy seized painfully in his chest. It hurt the way a seatbelt does in a car crash, knocking the air out of your lungs and bringing you up short. He watched Dick rush around him, grabbing up his belongings in a disorganized fashion.

“Dick, I can’t come with you.”

“What?” Dick asked, breathless. He turned back from the door. “Yes, you can. C’mon, get your stuff, the money can wait till tomorrow.”

Jason shook his head. Fuck, how the hell was he supposed to explain this to him without looking like the one asshole member of this family who didn’t want to visit his little brother recently brought back from the dead.

Dick paused, his hand dropping from the door handle. “What? Because of what happened between you and Bruce?”

I was a fool for ever believing in you. Even now Bruce’s words lingered at the back of his head. An invisible brand that still held its heat.

“Jason, I know what went down between you and Bruce was… heavy, to say the least, but you’re still family. You do know that, right? You’re still my family and if you want to see Tim, Bruce can do fuck-all to stop it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Jason could only huff a sad laugh at that because God did he want to believe that too, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. Tim would always be his family, but Bruce… he’d crossed a point of no return with Bruce on the night that the fortress was destroyed. The violence of his assault had done more than break a few bones— it had finally shattered that last shred of trust he’d stupidly harbored in him that when push came to shove Bruce would value the son over the soldier. I broke his rules for the last time and now he sees me as nothing more than an unredeemable criminal that escaped Batman’s justice. One of his little soldiers gone AWOL.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… I can’t face him yet— I—” he trailed off. He’d been laying low since his return to Gotham, but even still Jason thought the only reason he’d survived this long was because Bruce was too consumed with Tim’s death to spend a spare thought on him. He wasn’t ready to walk into that cave tonight and find out what would happen now that Tim was back in the picture and Bruce’s anger focused back on him.

It felt like a horrible selfish thing to think about saving his own skin when his little brother had come back from the dead, but as his eyes lingered at the collection of items piled around the storage locker he was reminded that no one was going to do it for him. After all, that was how this plan had all started right? Someone had to be the one to craft the safety net for the next Robin to fall of Batman’s mighty pedestal.

“You should go. Tell Tim I’m glad he inherited my cockroach-like ability to not stay dead.”

“Jason…” Dick twisted the jacket he held in his hands.

“Go.” It came out sharper than he’d intended, despite his best efforts to push his emotions down. He was quick to try to smooth it over with a tight smile that he knew fooled neither of them. “I’ll stop by his apartment tomorrow once all the hype has died down. Besides, someone needs to finish up here.”

He nodded at the banknote counter.

The one thing he’d always valued about Dick, more than his caring nature, was that he knew when to stop pushing an issue.

“Alright,” Dick shifted his grip on his jacket again. His phone was chiming once more in the back pocket of his jeans. No doubt another family member asking where he was. “I’ll call you tomorrow to check in.”

“Sure.”

After the door to the storage locker fell shut, Jason let his gaze travel around the room again. So Tim was back, alive and well as far as any of them were concerned. A nagging part of Jason’s mind wondered worriedly if gaining him back would slowly undo all the plans they had made together. Would Dick continue to worry about the next crisis to befall their little family or would Tim’s return renew his neverending faith in the impossible until he eventually forgot what it was that drove him to his breaking point?

Jason picked up another stack of banknotes and slid it into the machine. As the numbers continued to rise once more he did his best to prepare himself for the idea that he would be alone in this mission once more. Another bitter pill to swallow but he couldn’t do it. It lodged itself raw and unpleasant at the back of his throat.

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is-it-art-tho · 3 years

Text

This is Chapter 9!

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8.

Summary: Dick begins the healing process.

By all accounts, Dick should not have survived.

That was what he gleaned from murmured conversations between nurses and snippets of news coverage. His medical records had filled in some blanks, too.

Concussion, multiple fractures, internal hemorrhaging, lacerations, cardiac arrest.

Cardiac arrest. The words had played on a loop in his head ever since his doctor had first said them, and even now Dick couldn’t quite make any sense of it.

The doctor had smiled at him afterwards, informed him of how lucky he was to be alive. “Usually when someone goes into cardiac arrest in the field, they don’t even make it to the hospital,” she’d said. “Good thing Batman was there, huh?”

“Batman?”

“Mhm. EMTs saw him. He must have been doing CPR before they got there.”

“Hm,” was all Dick had offered in response, but internally he had clung to those minor details like a drowning man grasping at driftwood.

The majority of that night was lost to him. Listening to the news helped somewhat, but reporters only knew so much. And none of the others – Barbara, Tim, any of them – had been very forthcoming, either.

Dick hadn’t pressed, though. The haunted look in their eyes whenever they came to visit him in the hospital had been enough for him to decide never to bring that night up again. He already hated that he might have inadvertently become added fodder for future nightmares; no need to throw gas on the fire.

He could live with not-knowing what had happened if it meant keeping them from reliving it.

“Richard?”

The young voice dragged Dick’s gaze away from the curtains he’d been staring at to the doorway. He’d been back at the manor for nearly two days now, in bed mostly, and in that time he had yet to see Damian except for the ride back from the hospital.

Now the boy was standing at the threshold with a tea service in his hands, his mouth curled in an uncertain frown. “Am I… interrupting?”

Dick smirked and made a show of looking around the empty bedroom. “Yeah. I’m pretty swamped here, as you can see.”

“You know what I meant.”

“I know, but it was a dumb question, anyway. You know you’re never interrupting, Damian. C’mon.” Dick waved him in with a jerk of his chin then froze and winced as a jolt of pain shot up his spine and into his head.

Damian entered stiffly and set the tray on the bedside table, shoving aside pill bottles and a glass of water.

“Damian?” Dick asked after what felt like a long pause. Damian’s eyes were locked on the tea set, his face scrunched in a way that made him look nervous and uncomfortable and young.

Dick reached out with his good hand and tugged on the boy’s sleeve. “Hey, you okay?”

“Of course, I am,” Damian snapped, pulling his arm out of reach. He scowled at a bookshelf. “Drake is having a difficult time.”

“Tim?” Dick tried to push himself more upright and quickly aborted that mission with a hiss when he felt a sharp tug at the sutures across his abdomen. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

“He blames himself for what happened. For not locating you sooner.”

“He told you that?”

“I overheard him talking to Stephanie.”

“Aw, Tim.” Tim had been noticeably distant, it was true, but Dick had interpreted it as general anxiety about the whole situation. Never in a million years would he have guessed that Tim had managed to convince himself this was his fault.

Damian muttered something, hands now shoved into his pockets.

“What?”

“I said he is a fool. To act as if he is the one who…” Damian swallowed hard, glowering at the carpet.

Birds were gathering and chirping in a bush by the open window, and though the curtains were drawn to protect Dick’s concussed brain from harsh light, hazy beams still found their way in, spilling across the floor and along the foot of the bed.

“He is not the one to blame,” Damian finished.

“No one is.” Dick couldn’t tell if it was the drugs or his injuries that were making this conversation so hard to follow, but he felt like he was missing something, straggling two steps behind. “At least, not any of you.”

Damian looked at him with open disbelief. “I failed you, Richard. If not for my ineptitude, you wouldn’t have– I should have gone with you when you left that night. None of this would have happened if I had just–”

“Stop.” Dick had meant it to be firm, but the word sounded more like a plea. His head was really pounding now, and keeping the pain out of his voice was becoming increasingly difficult. “You can’t let yourself start doing that or else you’ll never stop. It was a freakish, sucky thing that none of us could have anticipated and therefore probably couldn’t have avoided, either. And yeah, maybe if you had been there it wouldn’t have happened. Or maybe something worse would’ve happened instead. We don’t know and we never will, but what I do know is that you did the best you could in the moment.”

“And it was not good enough.”

“Damian–”

“It is my job to be good enough,” Damian maintained. “If I can’t protect you then…” He let the rest go unsaid, his lips pressing together as his eyes glistened. “I am supposed to be able to protect you.”

Oh. So that’s what this was about.

“Damian,” Dick tried again, and what was meant to be a sigh turned into a low groan as his ribs refused to cooperate.

Damian tensed, wide-eyed.

“We’re good. I’m okay,” Dick promised before the boy could sound the alarms. Then, “I’m not Batman anymore, Damian. You’re not my Robin. You don’t have to put that kind of pressure on yourself.”

And again, Damian gave him a look like Dick still just wasn’t getting it, like he missing something glaring and obvious and not worth explaining except to say, “Yes, I do, Richard.”

Dick started to say something, but Damian continued, “You are saying that excessive self-reproach is counter-productive. I understand the sentiment. And I appreciate it. Thank you.”

He turned to the tea service and begin pouring a cup, his entire demeanor changed, suddenly casual . “How is your pain?”

“I…” Dick paused, once again feeling off balance and too slow as the tone and subject of the discussion switched so suddenly. “A four.”

“So, a seven,” Damian deduced, taking one of the pill bottles from the nightstand and opening it after checking the label. “Alfred said if it is above a five then you are to take two of these.”

Dick considered fighting him on this, reluctant to lose the rest of the morning to a drug-fueled haze, but the pulsing ache beneath his skull and the one radiating through his ribs made it difficult. He let Damian tip the capsules into his open palm and threw them back without complaint.

“You got anything planned this morning?” Dick asked, accepting the cup the tea Damian held out.

“Nothing important.”

“Great.” Dick reached across his chest with his good arm to pat the open space in the bed beside him.

After a brief hesitation, Damian circled the mattress and climbed in, his movements so careful that Dick hardly jostled at all.

“What language are you on right now?” Dick asked, settling back into the pillows. It might have been psychosomatic, but already he was feeling drowsy.

“Hungarian.”

“Huh. What happened to Korean?”

“Too easy. I finished that a week ago,” Damian said dismissively, though there was a self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

Dick chuckled. “Show-off. How far along are you?”

“More or less conversational.”

“Nice.” Dick’s eyes were closed now. “Show me something.”

“I am not circus monkey, Richard.”

“Y’know, I grew up in the circus,” Dick mumbled. “The monkeys were my favorite. Miss those little guys.”

He thought he heard Damian sigh – or maybe it was a laugh – before the boy asked, “What do you want to hear?”

“That song Bruce hums all the time. The one he sings when he thinks he’s alone. What’s it called?”

Damian’s voice sounded muffled and far away when he answered, “Am I Blue.”

“Yeah. That.”

Damian cleared his throat and began to recite the lyrics in near-perfect Hungarian. He paused occasionally to search for a word, at times reversing to correct a conjugation before moving on.

Dick was almost completely gone now. The bed had fallen away, and he felt like he was floating through the air with Damian’s voice as a welcome backdrop.

He didn’t notice the quiet chatter had stopped until Damian asked, “Richard?”

“Mm…?”

“You’re not just Batman to me. I mean, that is not why I feel responsible for your wellbeing.”

“’Kay. Y’too…”

After a brief pause, the gentle half-singing began again, and Dick slipped away on the familiar melody.

______________

All of the lights were off in the den when Alfred breezed in with a tray of hot chocolate just as A Charlie Brown Christmas began on the TV. Cass and Stephanie’s arms sprang up from their spots on the floor like weeds, and he placed mugs in their waiting hands before circling around to the others. Tim, curled up on the sofa, accepted his with a muttered thanks without looking up from his phone. Bruce took one for himself and one for Damian who was smushed into his side, mouth hanging open in dead sleep. When Alfred got to where Barbara and Dick were sharing a blanket on the couch, he smiled and set their mugs on the end table.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Dick whispered, glancing over at Barbara’s head on his shoulder to find that she had fallen asleep.

“Of course,” Alfred said. He set the tray aside and took a seat in a nearby chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Dick answered, perhaps a bit too quickly because Alfred raised a dubious eyebrow at him.

“Honest,” he added with a rueful grin.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it.”

They sat in silence for a while, the only noise coming from the TV and hushed laughter and whispers between Cassandra and Stephanie on the floor.

The air was thick with the ghost of Thanksgiving dinner and fresh hot chocolate, creating a warm bouquet that was at once comforting and nostalgic. Bruce had a faint smile on his face as he watched the movie, colors and lights splashing across his face. He had one arm draped over Damian��s small frame as if holding him there.

At some point, Tim had stowed his phone and turned so that his legs dangled off the armrest and he could see the screen better, hot chocolate clutched between his hands.

It was one of those admittedly rare moments where there was no clock ticking anywhere in the background. There was work to be done, for sure, but it was not a looming obligation. Tonight, the city for once was quiet. Dick couldn’t remember the last time he had passed an uninterrupted holiday in this house.

“Something is on your mind,” Alfred noted, taking a small sip from his mug.

“I was just thinking about today.”

“Nothing short of a miracle,” the older man said, instantly understanding.

“No kidding. It almost feels suspicious. Like the calm before the–”

“Don’t,” he said firmly, his face illuminated just enough by the TV for Dick to register the stern frown there. “I will not allow you to sully this gift with your dark premonitions. Just enjoy this for what it is: a welcome and much needed respite after the events of the past few weeks.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Dick conceded, cringing a little in self-reproach. “Sorry, Al.”

The old man nodded, his face softening. “Now, would you mind telling me what is actually on your mind?”

Dick let out a breathy, half-hearted laugh. “You’re good.”

“I am indeed.”

With a sigh, he looked toward the TV. A Black Friday commercial was advertising half-priced gaming systems.

“Hey,” Tim whispered, waving his arm at Stephanie.

“What?”

“Get me that.” He pointed at the commercial, and Stephanie scoffed at him before resuming her muted conversation with Cass. After a few days and a much-needed conversation, Dick was happy to see Tim back to his normal self.

“It’s been a while,” he admitted now, returning his attention to Alfred who was watching him patiently, “since I’ve heard from Jason. Over a month, actually. Not the longest we’ve gone without speaking, but it’s the longest in a while.”

The cup paused halfway to Alfred’s mouth, his brow creasing. “Over a month?”

“Yeah,” Dick sighed. “We went on patrol together in October and things got a little rough. I said some stuff and we haven’t spoken since. I’m not even sure he’s still in the city.”

When Alfred continued to look at him, Dick asked, “What?”

“If you don’t mind my asking, how has your memory been as of late?”

Dick adjusted himself, gingerly repositioning Barbara’s head on his shoulder when he felt her beginning to slide off. “Fine now. I can’t remember much of that night. Or, pretty much anything, really. But otherwise I’m all right. Why?”

“And the others? What have they told you?”

“About what happened? I haven’t asked. I didn’t want to... Well, you know.”

“Indeed,” Alfred said with a somber nod, setting down his mug. “It is a night, or a week, rather, that I’m certain we would all like to leave firmly in the past. But even so, I believe there are at least a few details that you ought to know.”

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