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cipheress-to-k-pop · 3 years

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A Sister's Love

Pairing: Platonic Damian Wayne x Al Ghul!Reader

Warnings: Injuries and blood. Drugging, Trafficking and sexual assult but these are not the main themes.

Word Count: 4.9K

Summary: You realize you have a lot to learn about yourself outside of your little brother, Damian's, shadow.

A/N: Was originally gonna make this a Dick Grayson x Reader but realized it would be weird cuz of mixed families and stuff. And I don't wanna be pushing the boundaries of incest.

Growing up in the League of Assassins meant a lot of things for you. It meant that you were raised to be powerful and commanding. It meant you knew how to kill a man in 47 different ways and counting. It meant that you were raised to rightfully think that you were the best.

Although for every good thing there was always cons. Your schedule was rigid and your peers were unfeeling. Your mother most of all, but that didn't stop you from trying to win her affection. It was the reason why when your little brother was born you felt threatened.

That was until you met little Damian. Your mother had handed him to you with a smile of pride that she never showed you and you hated him. But then you saw his precious little face, a nose tinier than a button and adorable lips that were curled into a pout. He was so beautiful.

Since then, you put any differences you might have had with your mother behind you. According to Ra’s it would have been a mistake to show Damian such tenderness, to teach him about loyalty to your heart, instead of without it.

But Talia couldn't ignore the tug she felt in her heart seeing you and Damian together. You still worked hard, harder than she had ever seen before, now determined not to show that you were weak and have them take your brother from you. Damian followed your example, training to her approval, however taxing it was for him.

And more importantly, Damian loved you. You were the first woman he had ever loved and he was smart enough to know that would never be a mistake. You were his shelter in a storm, his fire in the cold. You were the best sibling that anyone could ever even dream of.

But then you had to part. At age 10, Damian went to live with his father, Bruce Wayne. You had never met the man when he was with your mother and you assumed you wouldn't need to, he wasn't your father.

Both you and Damian didn't want to leave each other. You'd miss your little brother and you'd miss the feeling in your chest whenever you'd look at him. Damian would miss home; he would miss your presence and he would miss the familiarity. But he couldn't stay.

That's something you learnt at the League. Damian couldn't stay, with you. He was meant for bigger things than you.

Another thing you learnt was that you didn't have to stay either. You wanted to see the world, see what everything else had in store for you. And your mother, bless her, gave you her blessing.

Of all the things the league taught you, there were things they missed out on. And a part of you was thankful for that. Because you enjoyed the feeling of wide-eyed wonderment when you stepped into a train station for the first time ever.

You had never tasted a chocolate muffin before, you realized as you stuffed your face at a local bakery. Coffee and chocolate muffins went well together. You liked sweet things better than spicy things, you noted when you didn't enjoy the tteokbokki you bought at a Korean food stall.

People were kind, not foolish. They smiled at you when you came in and genuinely asked you where you were headed. Like the woman you met on the tram who was heading to Washington DC. Even through the short ride, the two of you had bonded and she had left you with her phone number and a promise that if you were ever in DC, you would ring her up. Diana was trusting, too trusting. You could have assumed it was because she was stupid, but you wanted to believe it was because she was smarter than even you.

Some people were kind like her but of course, some were impolite and pig-headed. You of course didn't waste any time putting them in their place. Maybe that was why you shouldn't have any faith in humanity.

But isn't humanity just the thing you should be putting faith in?

It was fun at first, discovering new things, seeing how people really lived outside of books and things taught to you back at the League. You knew everything, you weren't naive enough to be oblivious but reading about something was miles apart from actually experiencing it.

After a while however, you got lonely, it was a huge world with people constantly moving and you've come to realize that unless you're with somebody, you can't really move from your place. Instead, you'd be stuck watching all of them. So, you sought after your brother.

It was easy enough to track Bruce Wayne, he lived in a house large enough to be seen from outer space. Getting to Gotham took longer than you expected. Time passed so easily when you didn't have a purpose but now that you had somewhere you needed to be, the train couldn't go any slower.

Gotham City was less gloomy than people made it out to be. The sun was shining and the city was bustling. In some ways, it seemed a little homey. Maybe that was because you didn't have to worry about someone hurting you. If anything, they should pray that they don't choose you as their next victim.

Of course, you could've gone to Wayne Manor and introduced yourself civilly but you wanted to see Damian more than anything and didn't want to delay it any longer. And more than that, you wanted to see Damian is his cute little school uniform.

That's what led you to wait outside of the well-reputed Gotham University, waiting patiently for the bell to ring and students to file out of it. You already knew that they wouldn't come out singing like in the movies but a very small fraction of you still hoped.

Your heartrate increased with every passing minute, excited to meet your brother after nearly a year of being apart. Eventually, the bell did ring and students began trickling out of the doors, looking like bumble bees, excitedly zipping around and talking to their friends.

'Would this have been my life if I was never born in the League?' You wondered, looking at a girl who was animatedly chatting with her friend, arms interlocked as they moved towards the parking lot where their parents were waiting.

When you finally saw Damian, you suddenly felt out of place. Like an outsider watching someone else's brother when you saw his eyes lock onto someone in the commons. Even though you weren't on the school campus, you could still recognize who it was.

Richard Grayson, oldest son of Bruce Wayne, waiting to pick up your little brother on a motor cycle.

And for the first time in your life, you experienced insecurity, watching them greet each other like brothers. The feeling was sour and you wondered if it was a mistake coming here, thinking that you still had a place here.

It was true, people didn't move from their place unless they had someone to go with. You hadn't felt fulfilled like that since your brother stopped being at your side. He was everything you knew. It was just your mistake for thinking that in the year apart your brother wouldn't have found anyone either.

***

"Drake, pull up the security cameras from today at my school parking lot." Damian ordered, stepping into the Batcave.

"No 'Hello', no 'How you doing?', it's always 'Tim, do this' 'Drake, do that'," Tim commented sarcastically but still pulled up whatever he needed, "And then as soon as I give you what I want, you're going to forget me again. And not even visit the kids."

Dick spared him a laugh at his dramatic scene, ruffling his hair as greeting and then turned his attention to the screen. The footage was played at double the speed until Damian's eyes locked onto just what he wanted to find.

It was just for a second, when Dick's motorcycle had zoomed past but that was all he needed. Damian had seen your face and it wasn't any mistake, he'd know you even if he was blind. Even though he was so sure it had been you, he still couldn't hide the way his body froze, eyes wide when he saw your face.

It was the same face he'd see every night before he went to bed and the very first person he wanted to see every time he woke up. Your image was what came into his mind when he thought of being nurtured, when he thought of being safe.

There was a time when he was younger, too young, there was a thunder storm. He doesn't remember much from the night, just hiding his face against your chest and you wrapping a blanket around him. His mother trained him even harder the next day, until he almost dropped but he'd never forget curling up to your warmth. Not even now, when he knew that thunder storms were the least of his fears.

It was as simple as that. With his father and brothers, he didn't have to worry about looking weak, he didn't think of love as a weakness, rather he considered it as the fuel behind strength. Yes, his father taught him well. And now he would show you just how much he's grown. So, you can be proud of him.

"We need to find her."

"Why? Who is she?"

"My sister."

***

Of all the things you wanted to experience, visiting a bar was one of them. Was the air really enough to intoxicate you? Were you really going to lose all sense when you stepped into it? Would be able to drink your troubles away?

You were sorely disappointed. The alcohol didn't taste good, it burned when you swallowed it and made your tongue feel fuzzy. The music was so loud that your brain began throbbing against your skull to the beat of the song.

Men were picking fights and women were having fun but even then, you couldn't find it in yourself to get up and actually have fun. I mean, how were you supposed to? How was cosying up against a drunk man supposed to make you feel better? How was getting lost in throngs of sweaty people who didn't know what personal space was meant to improve your mood?

If anything, it just reminded you of just how pathetic your life was.

You were realizing you had no purpose. Damian was all you had known for years now, knowing only to protect him with your life and love him with your heart. Who were you without him? What did you like? What made you happy outside from your duty at the league?

A man knocking into you brought you out of your thoughts, which had been happening all night. Except this man stopped in front of you and gave you a smile that turned your stomach upside down.

"Sorry about that pretty lady, let me buy you a drink to make up for it." He spoke with a voice that was trying to be smooth but instead sounded like metal scraping over each other.

"No, thank you." You said sharply, not yet done with your Manhattan anyway. You were barely enjoying your time here as it was and you were sure another drink wouldn't change your mind.

"Not a fan?"

You shook your head at him, choosing to humour the man.

"Then let me buy you another one, if you don't like it then you have nothing to lose."

You pretended to giggle at him and he swelled with pride. Did he think he was winning?

"One Boulevardier." He told the bartender who nodded and began preparing the drink. Until it was ready, you indulged the man in front of you who reeked of cigarettes and alcohol.

He placed the drink in front of you and if you hadn't known that it would burn going down and turn you into a shell of yourself, you might have been curious to what it tasted like.

"You see that dude over there?" He nodded to a man standing in the other corner of the bar and you turned to look at him. Another man, covered in tattoos who didn't look any different than the one standing behind you.

"He's my pal, owns the bar. Ask him and he'll hook you up with free drinks tonight. For a price, of course."

You turned back around to face the man and out of the corner of your eye saw something dissolve into your drink. It was only for a second but you saw the last remaining grains turn invisible and you definitely noticed the way the once steady drink was now swirling into a vortex in the middle.

"Drink up, princess."

You smirked. Tonight, might be fun after all.

***

This was boring.

You had been pretending to be unconscious for about 40 minutes while these men drove you to some undisclosed location. Their conversations were unbelievably dry and it's not like you had anyone else to talk to. Everyone else who might have been even mildly interesting were knocked unconscious.

Eventually they pulled up to some sort of holding facility and if your assumptions were correct then this would be a midpoint before they sold all the girls here to some sort of pimp.

Once they lugged you off the truck and threw you into a room with so many other people, you could hear their breathing did you open your eyes. It seemed like this was some sort of abandoned butcher or meat factory, judging by the ominous hooks hanging above your head and the metal walls. The door had been bolted shut, the only way to look through it was a small glass window.

Only after you finished taking in your surroundings did you even look at the other women who had been trapped in the room along with you. Your stomach turned.

There were so many unsuspecting faces who looked like they didn't sign up for this. Half of them looked under the influence of something, sweating profusely even in their sleep, faces scrunched up in pain. The other looked like they were forcibly taken, bruises covering their skin, hair and clothes in disarray and more than half of them had either a black eye or a swollen lip.

Maybe it was their fault for not being trained, that's what someone at the league would've said. But isn't it their captors’ fault for misusing their training, their strength, for something as vile as this?

You decided to wait, you couldn't assume that this small group of girls was the only one in the confines of the building. How many more were here?

You weren't feeling overwhelmed, not at all, not with the weapons that were littering you. A kunai hidden is either of your boots, throwing stars in your pockets hidden underneath your vest and a war fan in your pocket. You could handle these clowns without even looking up.

But it wasn't your life you were concerned about. It was the lives of these underaged, vulnerable girls who had fallen prey to these monsters.

While you were waiting a couple of the girls started to wake up. Some were still heavily drugged, still groggy when their eyes fluttered open and unable to focus onto anything. Others shot up straight as an arrow and began crying, screaming, begging for them to let them out.

They were ignored, by both their captors and you. Why try and reassure then when you weren't sure what was going to happen. More importantly, why throw off the monsters lurking outside the door that there was one woman who hadn't been phased.

Instead, you just stared blankly, trying to get comfortable and hear anything through the walls. Eventually, you heard the sound of footsteps coming towards the room. You covered the lower half of your face with a scarf, making sure that anyone who left here alive today, wouldn't be able to remember your face. Whether it be as a saviour or their punisher.

The girls whimpered and curled into one another, crying quietly and you felt sympathy. There was no way they'd be able to move forward from this without having fear stab at their heart with every step they took. You could only hope they had something in their life that would make them feel safe.

For tonight, you'd be that for them.

A few men opened the door with a cruel smile, stepping inside for a second before bolting it shut. They flaunted guns and other weapons to the girls, finding pleasure where there should be compassion and worry. You were disgusted watching their smirks twist maniacally when the girls cried harder seeing them brandish their weapons.

One of the men stepped forward and grabbed the girl closest to him who begged and cried to spare her. His disgusting hand might as well be made of acid because you almost felt the sick burn when it snaked between her legs and copped a feel while she sobbed and screamed, trying to fight him off.

You grabbed one of your weapons and returned their sick grins with one of your own.

It was going to be hard to cop a feel when he can't feel anything.

You were going to break each and every bone in his hand to ensure that.

***

"Can I borrow your phone please?" You asked the bloody and broken man by your feet. He glared at you and spat blood on your boots, unable to do anything else. You sighed and faked a pout.

"Is it here?" You wondered, holding the dirtied boot over his ribs and his eyes widened, catching drift of what you were about to do. You rammed your foot into his broken ribs, courtesy of yourself, and he screamed bloody murder. Music to your ears.

"Apparently not. Want me to check your pants?" You asked, raising a brow and he frantically shook his head, using whatever strength left to pull out his phone from his pocket and you smiled, thanking him quietly.

"Now, let's hope that one blow is enough to put you out of my misery." You sang, punching him right in the face and he passed out. Lightweight.

You took a look around the place, seeing bodies littered over the place like confetti. Blood was scattered on the ground and you're sure if people looked hard enough, they'd find someone's teeth. You on the other hand looked fine.

You sat on the floor, crossing your legs comfortably, tired after the fight and dialled a number onto the phone.

"Hello, police?"

"Yes, how can we help you?"

"Well, there's a sex trafficking scam going on at my location. Quite shoddy but they have a number of women trapped here and it would be nice if you could send backup to have them escorted home safely."

"A sex trafficking scam?"

"Well, it could be just a regular trafficking scam but I'm not too sure."

"All right, I'll have someone check it out."

"Good, and I realize you might get a lot of calls like this but please don't talk to me like I'm an idiot. Tell your people to send a couple of ambulances as well, you'll need them."

"Of course."

You could only hope the person on the other end of the line would eat their words when it was on the front of the newspaper. For now, your work was done.

In the meantime, how were you going to get anywhere from here? Where even were you? Was there anyone even conscious here who could give you directions? Or would you have to call the police again to find out where to go?

Not that you'd wait long enough for them actually arrive here. You'd return to the bar way before that for another drink. Maybe now you'd actually be able to enjoy one.

Just as you were about to leave, you heard a creak coming from the other end of the warehouse. It echoed through the halls and you leapt to your feet, soundless moving to hide in the shadows and pulling out a kunai.

The footsteps that followed it were light and airy, barely even touching the ground. They were trained, whoever they were. You kept your ears open in order to hear something.

"Whoever was here was trained." You heard someone comment.

"Are you really that stupid, Nightwing? It's obvious that my sister was the one who took out this ring and reported it." Came the snappy reply back and your breath caught in your chest. Make no mistake, that was your brother's voice.

"We must find her."

He was actually looking for you? He knows you're here? You're not entirely surprised, you haven't exactly been careful or stealthy when it came to concealing your face around Gotham. A mistake on your part but you couldn't have been more relieved.

You still remained quiet, not wanting to disturb the flow, not wanting to interrupt. You had the mind of a soldier but when there was no one to follow you seemed more like a sheep. It made you feel slight shame, that you were unable to stick up for yourself despite being so many things.

Maybe, the league wasn't the best thing for you.

Immediately you scraped the thought from your mind, berating yourself for even thinking that. The league had given you everything, everything you were today was because of them. You were strong and calculating, the leagues proud soldier.

You were proud of your roots, thankful that you grew up to be the person you were. They had given you everything, and your brother was just one of the gifts that you had been blessed with in your life.

"Damian." You spoke softly, stepping out of the shadows. His head snapped towards you, eyes widening when he took in your form. It really was you. His sister.

Damian wasted no time in bounding towards you and you knelt down to meet his eye level, catching him with open arms. A part of your heart sang when you realized he was still small enough to fit in your arms. He still held you close. He still loved you.

"I've missed you, Ya Amar." You spoke softly, cradling his head that was buried in the junction of your neck.

"I as well, Okhti."

***

Damian was ecstatic that you were in Gotham. Of course, it didn't look like it to anyone but everyone who knew him well could tell that he was happy that his sister was home with him. He didn't wait for even two seconds when you got to the Batcave (much to Bruce's surprise) to show you all his pets.

The next few days would be considered the best of his life.

Damian wanted to be as close to you as possible, sitting near you during meals, training with you, talking with you, even going as far to sneak into your temporary bedroom at night for cuddles. He certainly got more comfortable showing affection since the last time you were around.

He showed you his hobbies like painting and sketching and you were impressed. He had the skills to be doing something like this? Damian had picked up many new talents and many new stories since you last saw him and he was eager to share them all with you.

The next few days would be considered the worst of your life.

You had found Damian now, so why didn't you still feel fulfilled? Why did you feel like something was missing? Like this wasn't meant for you? Why weren't you satisfied?

Why did you feel envious that Damian got to experience so many things? Why did you feel resentment against him when you realized you never got the same things he has?

Your life felt like it amounted to nothing.

You loved your brother but so far you had just been living for him. And now that you realized there were parts of the world that you wanted to see. There were thoughts in your mind that were of your own and desires that you didn't have to explain to anyone. As long as it made sense to yourself.

And you realize one thing with an aching heart.

You couldn't stay here in Gotham.

"Does Damian know?" Bruce asked you one day when you had asked him a favour. Bruce so far had been a little cold and unfeeling ever since you had met him in the Batcave uninvited. His feelings towards you got more negative when you gave an offhanded comment about how you thought he was taller. But he was the only one you could ask for a favour. He was the father to your beloved brother and you could only hope he would offer you the same consideration.

You had asked him for a flight to Washington, to see if Diana really meant what she said. To take a leap of faith for the first time in your life.

You shook your head no, "Not yet. I'm hoping he will take the news well. It's not like I'm leaving forever. I just—I need to—" You trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Bruce nodded, "I understand. Just tell him before you go. I don't think I've ever seen him this happy before."

"It makes me feel worse." You admitted, feeling a little guilty. How could you not feel happy at your brother’s happiness?

"You need some time to figure out that your world is yours. No one else should determine how you feel about yourself."

"You are very wise," You said softly, "Thank you."

***

"I love you dearly, Damian." You tried to coerce him from his room where he had locked himself in only 5 minutes ago. No doubt he was sulking since he found out that you would be leaving for DC in two days’ time.

"If you did, you wouldn't be leaving!" His voice was muffled, as if his face was buried in his pillow or even Titus. You had been trying to coax him into open the door for 20 minutes now and had multiple offers from Grayson, which you turned down.

"Oh, for the love of—Damian Wayne, you open this door right now!" It was silent for a moment before you heard the lock click open and took that as the indication from him to step into his room.

It was large and from the moment you stepped in, it was easy to tell the space was his. There were swords mounted on the wall, paintings on the wall adjacent to it. His desk was tidy and in the corner of his room, there were multiple easels and sketch pads.

Damian was sulking on his bed and you sighed, feeling guilty. You sat beside him and ran your fingers through his hair. Even though he was upset with you, he still sank into your touch, feeling comforted by mere contact.

"It's not forever, Damian. Wherever I'm going, I'm going to come back. I just need some time to myself." You tried to explain.

"But why!"

"The league taught me well, Damian. But it taught me to live like a soldier, but not as a person. There are so many things that I don't know about myself. What do I like? What do I want to do with my life? And I need to figure it out for myself."

"Why can't you do that here?"

You gave him a pained look and realization dawned on him, "Because of me."

"Damian, in the time we spent apart you learnt so many things about yourself. That you like animals, that you like art. There are so many blanks in my life and I need the distance to figure it out. I need to understand myself." You explained wistfully.

It was true, there were so many blanks in your life. You didn't even know what food you liked better, what hobbies you enjoyed. You wanted to experience new things, without the influence of Damian, without relying on him. And more importantly, you were scared you would put Damian above yourself time and time again.

It was all you knew. Damian was worth more than your life, worth more than your heart. But if that was true, you wanted to know at least what your heart was worth to you. If you didn't hold any value to yourself, it would be foolish to think you would to anyone else.

You needed the distance. You needed something new. You wanted to dive into uncharted waters and figure out the magic for yourself, without anyone to help you.

"It's not forever," You reminded gently, "I'm going to come back, I can promise you that."

Damian began leaning until his head was settled in your lap and you chuckled, gently scratching his scalp and he nestled into your belly. Hard to believe this was the same boy who left only a year ago. You wondered if you would change as much as he did or if you were stuck in your ways now.

"Okay," He said, voice muffled and you smiled, "I hope you find what you're looking for."

"Thank you for your blessing, Ya Amar. It means the world to me. I love you; you know that."

"I do." He said, now wrapping his arms around your waist, "I love you too."

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lily-drake · 3 years

Text

Gifts

Any holiday or day where gifts were given was taken with utmost seriousness in the Wayne household. Or in other words, it was a competition to one up each other’s gifts. It all started when Jason came to the house and Dick had come back to visit for the holidays. Marinette hadn’t really understood what was happening when she happily opened Dick’s present, which was a new knitting kit with so many different materials. She ran over to him and hugged him tightly as Alfred took photos. Dick had glanced over at Jason and smirked at him, but Jay-Jay only rolled his eyes with his arms crossed. She still hadn’t opened his after all, and he was around her more now than Dick was, which meant he had a higher advantage of knowing her new interests and endeavors. So he watched as she pulled out a thick book of fashion design and her own embroidery set. Her eyes practically glowed as stared at the set. Jason hadn’t even seen her move because next thing he knew strong arms were wrapped around him. The 7-year-old had definitely been taught by Dick on how to hug people.

Bruce gazed lovingly at his children, but he knew about their competition, and he would not be outdone by his sons.

“Daddy, Daddy, look what Birdy and Jay-Jay gave me! They’re so nice! Feel the material Birdy got me, I can make so many things now!”

“That sounds amazing, Bluebell.”

Marinette smiled brightly as she showed Bruce the gifts that she got.

“Do you want to see what I got you?”

He asked amusedly. Marinette began to hop on her toes in excitement, because daddy’s always had the best gifts!

“Yes please!”

Bruce smiled and pointed out a small, thin, rectangular box under the tree. She leaped over to it and when she opened it her mouth dropped open and she squealed.

“You got me tickets to Sophie Theallet’s fashion show?!”

She was jumping with joy as she stared at the five tickets in her hand. Bruce looked over at and smirked at the boys. He won, again. They groaned and sulked in annoyance. Why did he always win?

________

Marinette was 9 when she finally figured out what her family was doing, and she knew that she would be the one to give the absolute best gifts to her family! Her family deserved something super special, so she went to work. Her Birdy was part of the circus and they had a lot of equipment he often used. But what could she do that would be super special and make her win the competition? Then it hit her, she knew exactly what she would do! She would need to ask Alfred for help, but it would be worth it!

Next was Jay-Jay. She didn’t know much about his past as he always told her that she had to wait till she was older, but she knew about him now. Jay-Jay loved to read and would often read to her, he really liked hoodies and comfy things, and he liked to bake with Alfred and her. So maybe…….yea! She would do that, it shouldn’t be that hard to do.

Daddy always got her such nice gifts, how could she ever beat him? There had to be something she could do to outdo him. He was Batman, he worked with the Justice League, he loved all of them, and sometimes if he finished his work early would watch movies with them! But he was always so good and knew exactly what to get. She would try though, she had an idea and she hoped it would work.

Alfred, he deserved the best gift because of everything he did for them! She already knew the perfect gift for her grandpa Alffie!

________

Christmas arrived and she stared out the window as the snowflakes fell onto the covered yard. Maybe they could go sledding today, that would be so much fun! She was so transfixed in the snow, and thinking of how pretty a dress would be with the same color and different designs, that she hadn’t noticed her brothers sneaking up on her. A squeal left her lips as she was lifted into the air and twirled around wrapped in the warm embrace of her Birdy. She giggled as he spun and squeaked as she was gently thrown into the air, only to land on the couch.

“Good morning Blueberry.”

Dick chirped happily. She giggled again and leaned into Jay-Jay’s hand as he ruffled her hair.

“Morning Pixie-pop. Sleep well?”

“Morning Birdy and Jay-Jay. I slept great, thank you. Did either of you?”

Jason shrugged with a small smirk,

“I slept fine, though I wouldn’t have minded sleeping a little longer. You missed Dick’s hallway caroling this morning.”

“I sounded amazing, thank you very much. And I was too excited to fully sleep. I’m going to win this year.”

Dick said pridefully.

“No way, I’m totally going to beat you.”

Jason deffied puffing out his chest slightly. Marinette giggled and called out,

“No, I’m going to beat all of you! I will be the champion gift giver this year.”

They looked at her and smirked.

“Only in your dreams Pix.”

“You’ll see,”

She replied, crossing her arms and lifting her nose in the air like she had seen some of the people at the galas do.

“Then you’ll have to agree with me!”

They all gave each other sceptical looks before laughing and continued to talk until daddy came down. When he finally did, the competition commenced. The first person to open presents was her, obviously, as she was the youngest. Dick had given her a really nice and fancy art kit, and she loved it! Jay-Jay had given her tickets and backstage passes to the theater for The Nutcracker, she had been wanting to see it for a while now. Alfred had told her that he would teach her how to make a super secret recipe, and she would be able to help him with dinner today too! Daddy, he was too clever, too cunning. He had given her a pet hamster, and it was beautiful! She couldn’t beat him now, her gift was nothing compared to-to this! She tries though, and maybe she could win second? Yea, she would be ok with second, if she got this adorable baby creature. She couldn’t even be mad or disappointed, because look at its cute little feet and adorable eyes!

Next was Jay-Jay. The others had given him some really nice things, but she felt that hers was the best! So when he opened it and his eyes shined, she knew she made the right thing! It had taken her hours to find it, and she had to ask Dad if she could get it since she wasn’t allowed to use the card without permission. It was one of the first books of Pride and Prejudice ever published, she even got him a fancy ink and quill set so he could better embrace his Harry Potter nerdom.

“This is amazing, thank you Pixie, I guess I do owe you an apology, this is amazing.”

She smiled up at him while gently petting the top of her new hamster's head as it laid on her lap.

“Told you!”

For Dick she had knitted him a collection of stuffed animals that he talked about from the circus. Alfred had helped her find the material and helped her when she made a mistake or needed help on a particularly tricky part. She thought she saw Dick’s eyes water for a second. The next thing she knew she was being tightly hugged, but he left enough room to not squish her furry child.

“Thank you Blueberry, it’s amazing.”

“Of course it is, I made them!”

He chuckled as he pulled away and ruffled her already messed up hair.

She had made Daddy a picture book and had decorated it with black and yellow glitter, bats, and different birds. Throughout the book were all of the pictures that she was able to get her hands on dated and labeled in order from oldest photo to most recent. He had a soft smile as he looked through the book and when he finally looked back up to his slightly nervous daughter he pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead.

“I think you won this year.”

“Nuh ah! You gave me a hamster! There’s no way I could have won!”

“Well, I think all the others would agree that you thought of and made some very amazing gifts.”

She turned to look at the others as they gave gentle nods and thumbs up. Her cheeks felt really warm and she smiled at them all.

“Thank you. Now Grandpa Alffie needs to open his presents!”

Alfred smiled at the small child and opened the gifts he had received from the others. Marinette had made and embroidered a new handkerchief for him. He seemed to like it as he immediately placed it in his pocket. She was the victor of this year's Christmas gift exchange, but she still felt that Daddy beat her.

________

As years passed and her family grew so did the competition. Sadly, it would be harder to her her family their most desired gifts as she had decided to study abroad in Paris that year, but she would be da*ed if she didn’t try her hardest. She had gotten better with her skills for making things over the years, and so much had happened. Jason had died and come back, that was the hardest time of her life. They had new people adopted into the family, and she even had a little brother! She was going to meet him this year when she went to visit for the winter break. She would have the glasses with her at all times in case there was an attack so she could quickly come back here and take care of it.

When she arrived at the Gotham Airport and saw her large family standing and holding a sign as they looked for her she ran up to them as quickly as she could.

“Pixie!”

Jason called out, catching the small girl and twirling her around. She laughed and when she was put down created the rest of her family just as happily. When she finally came face to face with her little brother she held out her hand. Her family said he was more formal and was very against physical touch that he did not agree to or initiate. He eyed her hand suspiciously before shaking it and giving her a nod.

“Damian Al Ghul-Wayne.”

“Marinette Wayne. It’s nice to finally meet you Damian.”

They both let go after a firm shake. She already had a gift for him, and Kagami helped her find the perfect one. It was a nice blade, the blade was completely black, but had a red tint to it and red gains that delicately ran through it. The hilt was of fine golden metal and a strong leather grip. She had made the sheath for the blade. With strong leather and an inner layer of Kevlar so the sword would be protected. She had carved in Arabic symbols to spell out “Son of Bat” and had sewn a few almost unnoticeable small robins along the bottom and top of the inky black material.

For Tim, she had gotten him the best coffee beans in all of Paris and she had made him new lounge clothes that identified with his hero persona of Red Robin that had many hidden pockets and two large to-go coffee cups, one on each sleeve.

For Jason she had made him a new leather Jacket with book quotes embroidered all over the inside of the inner material. There were lots of different pockets, and a few tailor made to fit his guns. She had put a few Jagged Stone concert tickets in one of the pockets too.

For Stephanie, she had made purple silk pajamas that had waffles all over it. She had even made sure that there was a hood connected to the pj shirt.

For Cass, just like Jason had done for her, gotten tickets for The Nutcracker. She had also gotten her ballerina shoes, the best one and most highly recommended ones from the Paris Ballet.

For Dick she had made him an elephant onesie. Why you may ask, well because for her birthday he had given her a mouse one. So was it spite for being called short, or was it her trying to match, nobody needs to know.

She had made Alfred a new apron with the words “Don’t try anything, I already know.” Neatly sewed in cursive into it.

She had gotten Babs a new eskrima stick infused with a bit of her luck in it so no one would underestimate her in battle as she would always have luck on her side giving her the upper hand. She may be disabled, but that doesn’t stop her from kicking butt.

Finally, her gift for her dad. This one was hard, because she wasn’t around to know what had caught his eye this year, and her siblings refused to tell her. It was fine though, because she would figure it out. And she did, or at least she had tried. She ended up making him a bee suit jacket with everybody’s names sewed into the inner lining, multiple pockets for convenience, and black bats that would only be shown in the right lighting. She would win this year, she would! Sadly, Dick had won last year, but she would regain her crown again this year! She would be the best gift giver of her whole family!!!

Taglist:

@queenz-z @aespades @fandomsaremylifeline @stainedglassm @toodaloo-kangaroo @prettylittlebutterflie @trippingovermyfeet @liquid-luck-00 @unoriginalmess

#Maribat #BDMWM2021 #bio!dad bruce wayne #marinette dupain cheng #marinette wayne #sibling au #sibling timinette #sibling dickinette #sibling jasonette #sibling daminette #gift giving is serious #to give or be given #mlb x dc #mlb x batman #dc x mlb #day 7 #fluff #maribat

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timdrake-yumm · 2 years

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Idk why anyone would pick Jason to be Stray (okay no, that’s a lie- he has the whole former thief and street kid thing going on, I get it), he has the completely wrong body type for it. Not to mention the fact that the whole reason he became Robin was because he got caught. Jason, as smart as he is, is more of an act first, think later type of guy, unless he wants to be dramatic and vengeful (see: Red Hood). He should stick to being a Crime Lord, it suits him.

The people with the best body types for Stray (in my opinion) are Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Wayne, and Tim Drake.

Now, Dick Grayson would make a wonderful Stray, if he weren’t such a show-off. He was born to be in the spotlight (literally, as he was born to famous circus performers). Is he capable of being stealthy and discrete? Absolutely! Is he happy being stealthy and discrete? Not really. It’d be better to let him be somewhere where he can shine and be a spectacle.

Stephanie Brown also has the whole “true Gotham blood” thing going for her, like Jason, but like Dick, I think she’s too loud. She’s not loud in the same way Dick is, but she’s loud nonetheless. I think her and Selina would get along great, but they wouldn’t work well as partners (side note- does anyone else think that Stephanie and Pru would make great friends?). If you took away the whole mind-games thing, I actually think her and Riddler run a similar vibe. Like, all Riddler really wants is someone to challenge him intellectually, right? He just wants Batman to solve his riddles! I think Steph would be similar if she were a rogue. Sure, she’d do the whole revenge thing with her dad, but after that, I think it would just be endless, harmless pranks on Batman.

Cass definitely has both the body type and skill to be Stray. She’d make a great Stray. She has neither the need nor desire to be in the spotlight, and she could go the whole Robin Hood route of stealing from the rich to give to the poor if she felt the need to redeem herself from her past actions under her sperm-donors influence (which she shouldn’t feel guilty for, in my opinion). The only reason I think it wouldn’t work out for her is because I honestly think she’d get bored. Cass is a fighter, not a thief, and while she’d make a very good thief, it simply wouldn’t satisfy her. (For that matter, I think Jason is the same way. Yes he was a thief, but that was really more out of necessity than actually enjoyment, which is why I don’t think he’d enjoy being Stray either). Cass needs to feel the flesh break beneath her fists, so to speak. (I also don’t think the Robin Hood shtick would satisfy her guilt either). Out of all of them, I think Cass is the one most likely to have eventually joined the Mission (and its rules) on her own, whether or not Batman was part of it. Not because she views killing in and of itself as bad, but because she’s probably sick of doing it but still wants to help people. It’s why Cass would be the best person to take over the mantle after Bruce.

Finally, Timothy Jackson Drake. I can see why some people might not think he would quite fit the mold of Selina’s apprentice. He’s already a trust-fund kid, why on earth would he become a thief? I believe the answer is simple: because he’d have fun. Tim isn’t a fighter, he’s a detective and a planner. Will and can he fight? Yes, and he can do so very well (Come on, he got trained by Lady Shiva and managed to beat/keep up with Ra’s al Ghul, of course he can fight). However, Tim has always enjoyed the hunt more than the actual capture. Each heist would be a new puzzle to solve, each escape an addictive shot of adrenaline. He found out the identities of Batman and Robin when he was 9 years old, and only went to Bruce to get trained after he saw his suicide campaign and Dick refused to return to help. He was content with just watching. Furthermore, he naturally has the skills to do it. He managed to follow and take pictures of Batman without getting caught for years! He may not be from the streets of Gotham like Jason and Steph, but he knows them just as well. I think he’d take a Robin Hood route to it as well. He admires heroes too much to steal for the sake of stealing, so I think he’d make an effort to only steal from certain types of people and help those he can.

Anywho, those are just my thoughts on Stray, feel free to let me know what you think!

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the-broken-truth · 3 years

Text

Broken-Style Remix: The Red Hood & Shadow Hunter (Jason Todd & Bellatrix Todd)

Broken: So, I happened to read one of @anxiousnerdwritings's works about Jason Todd and Damian's Twin sister being a team and going against Bruce and the Bat-Family who want Damian's twin sister with them. This idea came to mind and I thought you would like it. Let the words weave and enjoy!

@anxiousnerdwritings's version: LINK

Quick Note: Bellatrix's Name is Shadow Hunter - Her Armor is like Jason's but it is more wolf-like (My personal touch) and has a bit more tech to it.

Blue eyes forced through the magnifying glasses on the face of the Eldest Wayne Heir, yet the one who cast the name aside for one that better understood her and a family that would better understand her than the Dark Knight or his gaggle of infants ever could. She sat in the darkroom - well, not entirely dark; the sparks from the tools in her hand made occasional lights that illuminated the room every now and then, plus there was the desk lamp on the workbench - shining light on the hand & forearm model and the gadget in the making that Bellatrix was working on. It was an attachment to her suit - Claws that gave a lightning discharge. She could use it to knock someone out or remove them completely with enough voltage but she won't do that - she won't live on the Al Ghul Blood, she won't be like Talia Al Ghul or the boy she once called brother.

Speaking of brothers.

"Another all-nighter?" A familiar voice called out, causing Bellatrix to turn off the tools, placed them down, and turn in her seat while lifting the goggles off her face to look at the man in the doorway with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Yeah, I wanna make sure the claws are ready for our next patrol." Bellatrix explained as she pulled the goggles off her head and placed them on the table before getting up and walking over to Jason, who gave her the coffee cup once she was in front of him. "Thanks." She said as she took a sip.

"No problem, what are brothers for?" Jason asked with a smirk.

"Other than entering their little sister's workroom without knocking?" Bellatrix asked with a raised eyebrow.

"As your brother, I have a right to invade your privacy for the greater good." Jason said with a smirk.

"And to be nosy." Bellatrix added as she walked past him.

"And to be..." He stopped when he realized what he was gonna say, "Hey! I'm not nosy!" He yelled as he followed behind her to the kitchen where breakfast was waiting.

[Later That Night]

Shadow Huntress secured her clawed boots shut before standing to look at the modified claws before sliding them on and latching them closed. She then positioned her right hand as if she was going to strike with her claws and smiled as the light blue electric current waves ran flowed from the bottom of her forearm to the tip of her claws; the tried with her other arm and everything was perfect. She grabbed her sword in one hand and her mask in the other before heading out to see what Hood was doing.

"Anything?" Huntress asked.

"They're still moving - I think they might be hiding to the abandoned warehouse on the edge of town; you know, the one near the waterfront." Red Hood said.

"I think that's where they are heading. Look." Huntress hits some keys on the supercomputer and the cameras in that area showed the factory. "See those boats? They're new, no one has been in that district and it's the only place to do a deal uninterrupted because the cops don't patrol that area anymore." Huntress explained.

"Then, we have our place. Let's move out." Red Hood said as he placed on his helmet and Huntress did the same - both masks locked into place and the two of them were out of there.

[Gotham Rooftops]

Red Hood soared through the open spaces of the backstreets of Gothan while the Shadow Huntress ran across the roofs with the speed and prowess of a wolf on the hunt. She leaped for a high roof and used her claws to climb to the top before running and jumping to the next one while Red Hood attached his rope to another point and began to swing.

The two of them landed on the roof at the same time - a vantage point that showed the trucks driving into the warehouse and the men that stood out to keep watch; not seeing the two hunters crouching on the roof, waiting and watching.

"What do we got?" Red Hood asked. Huntress placed her fingers on the control pad of her mask's visor to activate heat-vision mode - seeing the heat signatures in the building.

"There's about 25 of them - not counting the ones that are waiting outside." Huntress explained.

"What do you think we should do about it?" Red asked.

"We take out the guys outside, then we find the generator and cut the power; under the cover of darkness, we take them out - one by one." Huntress explained.

"What if they see us or hear the noise?" Red asked.

"Then we beat the hell out of them." Huntress said as the two of them rose to their feet and jumped down.

Everything was going good until Jason decided the throw someone through the window, everyone was high alert - it was ass-kicking time.

Red Hood and Shadow Huntress were knocking thugs down left and right, showing the combos that brother and sister made together. Huntress saw one of the thugs pointing his gun at Red Hood and jumped in the way, taking the bullet in the side but she still stood. She cracked her hand in the claw formation and the lightning came to life, causing her to pounce on the thugs, knocking them out through electrical waves while Red just beat the hell out of them.

When the last thug fell, Huntress grunted as she held the bleeding hole in her side, causing Red to run to her.

"Huntress, you alright?" He asked.

"I'll be fine. Let's get out of here and we can get it patched up." Huntress said as she rose to her feet and the 2 of them jumped through the window. They scaled the wall of the roof to stop and breathe for a moment while Jason removed the bullet that got stuck and clean the wound before wrapping it. They were waiting when Huntress's Robotic Wolf Ears shot up at the sound of footsteps - 4 pairs of them, she groaned.

"They're here." Huntress groaned and just when she said that 4 Figures landed on the roof in front of them.

The Dark Knight - Batman, a.k.a Bruce Wayne; Bellatrix's Father.

The Latest Robin - Damian Wayne; Bellatrix's Womb Mate.

Nightwing - Dick Grayson.

Batgirl - Barbara Gordon; the Police Commissioner's Daughter.

"What the hell do you 4 want?" Red Hood said as he rose to his feet.

"We received reports about gunfire in this region, we came to investigate." Batman said to Jason, but his eyes remained on Bellatrix, who just glared at him.

"There was a Firearms Deal going on and we put a stop to it before it could have even begun." Huntress said as she rose to her feet and stood beside Red Hood; Nightwing looked over the edge and whistled.

"They put a stop to it alright - everyone is laid out." He said.

"Laid out? You killed them?" Batgirl asked.

"We're not above killing but we try not to, per Huntress's request." Red Hood said as he gestured at his sister.

"You don't kill but you partner yourself with a killer? How backward you are, Bellatrix." Damian said.

"It is no business of yours, Wayne." Huntress growled.

"You're my sister, so it is my business, and you're a Wayne too; as well as an Al Ghul." Damian countered but Bellatrix scoffed.

"I've never been an Al Ghul, that's why you and your mother cast me aside; the only one who saw any worth in me in that family was my grandfather. Just like you wiped your hands of me back then, I wiped my hands of you - you're nothing to me but a stranger I happen to share my blood with." Huntress said.

"Bellatrix, that's enough." Bruce said.

"You have no say over me, Bat-Boy; I don't have to listen to you." She said.

"I am your father, you need to listen to me." Bruce said.

"I may have your blood but I damn sure don't have to listen to a damn thing you have to say because I don't live with you, nor do I work with you." Huntress said.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Bellatrix, you've been hanging around Jason for too long, it's making you reckless and dangerous. I think it's time you came to live with me, with us, with your family. There is a room waiting for you at Wayne Manor and we can talk about patrols and missions once you get settled in but you need to be with us now; Todd is a bad influence on you." Bruce said.

"You're joking." She said.

"No, Father is right - you've been living with this brute for too long. You're a Wayne and an Al Ghul, it's time you started acting like one." Damian said.

"Let me tell you something: I stopped being an Al Ghul when I left that hell you called home, and I never accepted to be a Wayne. Last time I checked, my last name is Todd and I want nothing to do with you...and of you." She glared at all of them. "Let's go, Bro. I'm done with this." Huntress began to walk away with Jason at her side.

Jason was her brother.

Jason was her family.

Bellatrix was a Todd and there was nothing anyone could do it change that.

#jason todd #damian wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson #barbara gordon

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miraculous786 · 4 years

Note

I vote Damian to be Mari's Persephone because it would be hilarious to see him making flowers bloom when his wife is happy and when she's sad he brings out the hawthorns on anyone that made his Queen cry.

Note: Thank you so much Nonnies and @loveswifi for the help with this! Hope you enjoy it! ❤️❤️

Masterlist

A Hidden Hades Hunting For (Hopefully) Her Husband

Damian is son to Talia al Ghul, the goddess of harvest, sacred law, and the cycle of life and death. There are rumours that beneath her sweet exterior is a woman of high authority and challenge, but none have been confirmed.

She is believed to have wooed Bruce (Zeus) into having her child, however it is more widely accepted that she used her magic and power over fertility to have his offspring without him knowing. His wife Selina refuses to believe that such a brooding yet faithful man would cheat on her after he rid of his playboy-persona millennia ago.

In this AU, Jason is Ares, Dick is Hermes, and Tim is Athena.

Only those who know her well are aware of her true bubbly personality. They’re mostly the deceased souls of those who’ve died.

Marinette is Hades - goddess of the Underworld. She took visits to Earth in order to experience what life was like for mortals years ago, except stopped when gossip flew about around her being dark, despicable, evil.

Marinette laughed. Her domain didn’t need any worshippers in order to prosper, but she didn’t tell Lila that. She only sat back and watched, a grin on her face as students with glowing eyes accused her of unspeakable acts. It was only when one that she viewed as a sibling of sorts - Adrien Agreste - did as well that she decided to do something.

What happened was that a class of teenagers she came back to frequently were put under the spell of Dolos, or Lila who she took the form of. She sensed Marinette’s ichor and threatened to turn her followers against her if she didn’t conform to her will.

It was only after all of their deaths that they learnt what happened.

With a flick of the wrist, a crack formed in the ground beneath Dolos, soon enlarging into a crater as limbs made of fire pulled her screaming form down into the depths of the Underworld. The class watched, stunned, but then a fog began to clear out of their minds. They seemed to wake up, apologies on the tips of their tongues, only to realise that Bridgette and Adrien weren't there anymore.

Dolos was doomed to having to solve an infinite puzzle, whilst Adrien was allowed to live as an equal to Marinette in hell. The class, now adults, are sentenced to be souls who help them in their duties. They aren’t mistreated, however. On the contrary, they’re viewed as friends to her.

Now, we skip to present day.

Damian is sitting on a bench in one of the gardens that he is confined to on the orders of his mother, when he suddenly hears what sounds like a bark. He turns around, only to be met with something shoving him to the ground.

He whips out a vine, wrapping it around the creature to inspect its species. That's when he realises that it's a dog. A very happy dog that starts to lick his face all over and leave its saliva everywhere.

Despite his cold personality, Damian has a soft spot for nature and animals of any sort. He picks it up, stroking it gently and trying to fight off the urge to smile at the way it leans into his touch.

He's touch-starved himself, to put it simply.

Damian sits with what he realises to be a male dog for a few minutes more. He doesn’t bother to keep an eye out for Talia - he’s too busy creating vines that his new friend bats at with his paws. It explains why he doesn’t realise the person walking up to him until they put a hand on his shoulder.

A polite voice calls for him, asking if he found their pet.

He turns, only to be met with a beautiful face framed by a black hood. The woman smiles at him, then suddenly calls out, “Titus!” with a surprised expression.

The animal in his arms leaps forward, starting to lick her whilst jumping up and down happily. Her laughter causes Damian to freeze, since he starts to sense the magic surrounding her. She’s a diety, he realises. But how did she get in here?

That day is the day that a friendship blossomed between Damian and Marinette.

She convinces him that she’s a nymph of sorts, citing that the reason some plants wilt around her are because of a curse set upon her by Talia. It makes him cautious and understandably distrustful until she assures him that she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

They keep their meetings a secret for years, though it doesn't feel like that long because of their immortality. Titus is usually the communication between them, and leads Damian to where he needs to go within his mother's gardens to find Marinette.

She has earrings that preserve her identity and prevent nature around her dying - however, plants still wilt and weaken enough to be on the brink of death. They are brought back to life by Damian almost constantly when she is in his presence, meaning she can touch them without worry.

As time passes, the two become closer. Instead of words, they begin to trade flower crowns and daisy chains. They always have blushes on their cheeks when talking to one another, or even thinking about each other.

This doesn't go unnoticed by Talia.

She plans to figure out once and for all why her son's demeanor has changed, at least until she's called to Olympus by the higher-ups in order to discuss something. Something involving Damian.

This only makes it easier for the two to get away with their escapades.

One day, whilst her and Damian are sitting under a tree, Marinette pulls out a black ring. She shyly offers it to him, making him flustered as he slowly takes and slides it on his finger.

What he doesn't know is that there's magic laced within the jewellery.

They relax for a few minutes in silence, until she breaks it by calling his name. She takes a deep breath, preparing herself as she explains that she's not really a nymph - she's a diety. A diety that he wouldn't like if he found out about the domain that she ruled over.

A soft hand cups her tear-stained cheek. She looks up, only to hear Damian whisper, "I'm sure that's not true, Beloved."

That's all it takes for her to yank him forward into a kiss, which he returns full-force under the watchful gaze of her sibling Adrien in the shadows. It takes all of his will to not jump up and down from joy.

They officially become a couple that day.

Marinette returns to the Underworld in the evening with a dazed expression, causing Alya and her friends to grin and float up to her. She deals with their relentless teasing, trying to cover her face out of embarrassment whilst she hesitantly tells them all what happened.

Adrien is the first to suggest courting Damian, though she immediately shuts it down and expresses fear at being found out. Her reputation was tainted, after all - and maybe he would go back on his promise of still loving her true self.

He manages to convince her of his sincerity by reminding her of all their interactions (he may or may not have watched over them to keep watch and see his ship sail), and Marinette eventually comes to the decision to start courting.

As she prepares lavish gems to gift him in the future, she is unaware of what is happening in the skies way above.

She'd refused to give him up - saying that he was her pride and joy and the perfect soldier for them to use in battle against future enemies trying to overthrow them. That made him even more angry.

Bruce, after a long conversation with Selina and his many children, had decided to have a conversation with Talia about his youngest son not too long ago. He showed interest in wanting to have custody of Damian on Olympus instead of her having him on Earth, making Talia lose her sweet attitude and gain a scowl.

Lightning struck harsh that night, and the goddess of harvest had returned home with her tail between her legs and a newly-formed resentment towards Damian. He was too busy thinking about his 'nymph' friend to notice, however.

In Olympus at the current moment in time, Damian is kneeling before Bruce. The god tells him to stand, his sons and daughters at his side displaying various levels of shock as he begins to explain why he is there, and why he will be in the future.

Everyone had agreed that Talia wasn't a good fit for him, due to her revealed intentions for his birth. He doesn't have time to argue about the situation before he is whisked away into a room fit for a royal, high in the clouds and miles away from his girlfriend.

The next morning, a dinner is set up with all of the gods in Olympus, including Tim, Jason and Dick. Dick is enthusiastic, trying to make conversation with Damian as his brothers are eating (or drinking coffee...). However, he has none of it.

He's too busy thinking about Marinette. How she would think that he'd broken his promise, or had abandoned her, or forgotten about her. His demeanor switches to his defensive one - cold, cruel, uncaring.

Marinette returns to Earth with a crown in her hands the next day, which has a shining jewel in the centre and spikes with the finest of gems at their points. She looks around excitedly, smile on her face as she and Titus wait for Damian.

Hours pass.

Up in Olympus, said diety is being introduced to family friends and other gods, that all coo at him much to his displeasure. He growls under his breath after every new person he meets, only cementing in everyone that he is a child. A young one that needs to be watched over like a hawk lest he attempts to go back to his mother.

Just as he enters his room with a heavy heart, he senses something strange in the mortal world. Large fields of crops near to his old home had just been destroyed - their roots upended and ripped out. His eyes widen.

Damian rushes to Earth, taking a route that is unknown to most whilst trying to keep hidden from his new siblings. He reaches his destination in a matter of mere seconds, but it's too late. He only breathes out a shocked sigh as he gazes down at the crater in the ground.

There's a glint of something gold at the bottom of it, and he picks the item - the crown - up with almost invisible tears in his eyes. The ring on his finger burns as a reminder of Marinette's emotions.

Below him, a frantic Adrien is trying to calm her down, but it's no use. The goddess of the Underworld is hysteric, crying rivers of tears filled with betrayal as souls all around try to ease her too.

Damian spends the next centuries and millennia on Olympus, sometimes returning to Earth when he wants to remember Marinette.

He keeps her a secret from all of the gods except for one of his friends - Jon (Artemis) - though he only mentions that she was someone important that handed him the crown that is always on his head.

He reluctantly begins to view Tim, Jason and Dick as brothers when enough time has passed, but never admits it. Selina and Bruce, however, catch the glints of relief in his eyes when they're in his presence. He finally has someone to talk to without worrying about Talia, excluding Marinette all those years ago.

Speaking of which, she had slowly become closed off and harsher in her treatment of the dead in the Underworld. They see that she's spiraling, hiding her depressed state under a constant frown, but can do nothing about it. Even Adrien is unable to bring back her kind personality in the absence of Damian.

That is, until he catches word from the messenger, Dick, that he is up in the skies on Olympus.

It's a slip-up, of course, but he still manages to catch what Dick says and act like he didn't. He waits until he's gone before he rushes back to Marinette and tells her what he suspects.

A small smile spreads across her face. One that is cruel like the rumours say, yet happy like she once was. Of course he didn't want to leave her, she thinks. He was simply forced into doing so.

Damian is talking to Jon about another recent affair in the middle of a mortal forest, when suddenly, he freezes. He feels a familiar burn at the ring on his hand, along with fields full of nature dying in an instant miles away.

He uses a zeta portal to teleport to the area, leaving behind a confused Jon. He zips around, eyes wide as he senses the plants around wilting slightly, along with some of the nearby animals inching away from him.

Everything becomes quiet. That's when he catches a flash of black darting around in the corner of his vision. He turns there, his eyes widening in recognition when seeing a dog wagging its tail happily.

"Titus!"

Damian takes a step forward.

A large crack forms in the ground beneath him, revealing the depths of the Underworld in all of their glory. Just as he's about to fall down, a chariot of the darkest colours hovers below him, soon speeding off without a second to waste with him inside.

He tries to command vines to capture the person at the reigns of it, but can only muster enough energy to sag back. Strong magic fills the air around him, forcing him to stay seated on plush pillows.

The last thing he sees before his sight is shrouded with nothing is a glint of red at his kidnapper's ears.

~*~*~

More to come!

There will be a second part, which will include general headcannons and what happens after this. Feel free to send in an Ask if you have any suggestions of different legends in Greek mythology that could be included. :)

@northernbluetongue @moonystars14 @soupfilledboots @vixen-uchiha @starsshineandgivehope @professionalfangirl1738 @queen-in-a-flower-crown @pale-lady-dreamer

#mlb x dc #ml x dc #dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #daminette #maridami #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #damimari #maribat #adribat #ml salt #lila salt

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bloghcom305 · 2 years

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Boku no Hero Should Just Use Guns

Seriously, logically it makes sense to use guns, while not all characters are susceptible to them, a large part of the cast are.

Many of the most deadly villains wouldn’t stand a change against a wave of bullets or a long range snipe out of sight. And if the villains had them too, then a large part of the main cast shouldn’t even be heroes. And yes, I am aware of Japan’s gun laws, which I will go over later in the blog. However, guns are still seen in the show, so why don’t they use them more.

And to put it simply, it makes the show boring. If guns were accessible and acted as effectively as they did the real world, there wouldn’t be a show. The concept of heroes and villains wouldn’t really exist. Its why in military movies, the military are presented as being extremely powerful, while in super hero movies, the military is weak in comparison, as to shine more light onto the main focus, the heroes. Same thing applies to Boku no Hero. If the heroes had them, then like I said, most of the main threats of the show could be taken out by guns. Stain wouldn’t have a chance against a swarm of heavily armed police, let alone heroes with guns, Shigaraki and his goons would lose to a similar swarm, and while Overhauls group might bring more trouble. A large swarm with a trained professionals, armed with military-type weapons, would easily take them out especially if maybe few of the strongest heroes tagged along. Especially if the heroes that accompanied them in the raid, were also armed. Imagine instead of sending a bunch of heroes, a navy seal like team just pulls up, its literally over.

Not to mention snipers as well. Seriously, what are any of the character gonna do against a snipe from out of sight, they can’t, its literally just gg. There’s a reason Deadshot was mentioned by Talia al Ghul to be someone that scared the Injustice League even if he's technically cannon fodder because even in DC one good sniper shot can take out 60% of the cast. 95% of these characters aren’t fast enough or are durable enough to live waves of bullets or a snipe to the head. If the villains were to attack UA, like they did multiple times with guns, especially assault rifles, the villains would be done for.

Most of these characters are honestly kind of weak, they can only be considered decently strong when you compare them to other people fighting with only their quirks. There would be no 1 million percent Deku if roid rage over had a Glock, it’d be just dead Deku.

And no, this doesn’t make the show bad, I’m just pointing out something I think might have crossed people’s minds. I can feel your salt from here, so dw, I’m going to be addressing some of the main counter arguments towards the end of the blog.

However, I want to at least address the most common counter argument here, being Japan’s gun laws being too strict to even acquire guns. And if you live in America like me, you may or may not be aware that other countries have very strict gun laws in comparison. Attempting to acquire a gun in Japan is significantly more difficult when compared to the US. In 2017 the estimate of civilian firearms was .3 for every 100 people in Japan, while in the US it was 120.5 for every 100 people. So it’s unrealistic that every hero and villain will own a gun. However, it isn’t unrealistic that many of the villains would have these guns

Having these weapons, as I mentioned previously, makes many of the heroes obsolete. I see no reason for why these murderous villains would shy away from illegally owning guns to use to commit crimes. Overhaul and his men can be considered the anime equivalent to the real life Yakuza... who use guns. Anything from hand guns to full automatic weapons, have been used as seen in relatively recent Japanese news reports surrounding gang violence.

Now in terms of the good guys having them, the police are equipped with hand guns, as seen in the show. However, knowing the threats that Japan deals with because of these villains, it isn’t out of the question to equip the police with more powerful weapons. I understand that Japan in the real world doesn’t have a need for such fire power, but in a world like Boku no Hero's, I think that's reasonable. *interview*. Which is why I think I have a solution to adding guns in their world. And surprisingly enough, I agree with stain.

Let me explain, there are too many fodder heroes who can call themselves heroes, there's a huge power gap from I can make rock float in air to I can punch down a building. So knowing which heroes are qualified to give guns out to would be a real mess. The concept of heroes, should no longer exist. Instead, I think that the more reasonable option is to bulk up the Japanese military and police force. Arm the local police better so that they can deal with threats without the need of heroes. And for more serious threats send a SWAT or even Navy Seal like specialist team of well trained and efficient soldiers armed all the needed weaponry to take down the enemy.

Now, this is where “heroes” can come it. Those with quirks that can support and are just as useful as powerful weaponry can be part of a squad as well. Imagine Aizawa with a gun against someone who relies on their quirk, basically bringing fists to a gun fight. There won’t be any big fun battle, its in, and out, get the job done. And its mainly for that reason why guns aren’t as prevalent, cuz that's boring

Now, for the counter arguments, I’m not gonna spend too much time on each one because there’s a lot.

Lets start

Characters can out speed or are too durable to be hurt by bullets.

No, that isn’t true, I don’t think the majority of you have seen a live bullet fire, they are faster than sound and do crazy damage, especially if we’re talking about fully or semi automatic rifles.

People brought up power feats by some of the heroes and villains, however, 95% of the villains would go down to our previously mentioned specialist teams by a snipe to the head or rounds of bullets.

There’s armor that can block bullets and Momo can make them.

Unless your Tony Stark, I don’t know what type of armor is going to survive a wave of bullets that is also able to move swiftly in and you can use your quirk with.

What about Nomu?

I’m certain if Japan equipped its special forces as strong as the US, like they should if they live in a world like this, Nomu would struggle. And even if he did beat them, the special forces I mentioned earlier still include heroes, just the strongest ones like all might and endeavor, and its shown that they can solo Nomus.

Toya has the ability to take any equipment the enemy has so guns could be used against them.

When raiding overhaul, police switched to shields and batons instead of guns because of Toya, but against a large amount of people with assault rifles, they don’t have much chance. Also it was shown that other members had guns.

Mustard used a gun, and he still lost.

He used a revolver in combination with his quirk, which can be effective, but if he was just carrying around an smg type gun, then he would have for sure won

How come pro hero snipe isn’t just destroying everyone?

I don’t know, if I'm going to be honest, that just feels like an oversight by the writer

And that’s about it. I’m not saying that guns are the key to everything, since a solid amounts of characters will be able to counter the usage of guns

However, I still feel like the points I made stand. The police and certain villains should realistically have guns, guns of varying levels can eliminate most of the cast, the Japanese police force and military should be reworked, and if they did this it would be more effective, but definitely significantly less interesting to watch

And also no, not having guns does not lower the quality of the show

Hope you enjoyed.

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 4 years

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Beyond the Mountains - fic

Characters: Jon Kent, Damian Wayne, Ra’s al Ghul, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, bits of Tim, Conner, Terry Pairing: jondami Summary: There was a new Batman in town, but it wasn’t Damian. No, Damian returned to the League of Assassins with his grandfather. Jon married him anyway. A/N: A batman beyond ‘verse kind of?? based on the comics! Referenced the two arcs Damian are in in Batman Beyond currently (like, 10-13 and 43 through current) a few times in here, but also changed a few of the canon details. Since the current arc Damian is in in BB is not yet out, I bs’d the end and I’m sorry it sucks. I imagine Jon being the hot/dorky high school teacher so...that’s what he is haha. Also reminder that I am nooooooo good at sex scenes haha. I worked a fuck ton on this, so if you like it, please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon!

Jon was used to Damian breaking into his house in the middle of the night. He’d done it since they were kids. Jon had started breaking into Damian’s house right back when they began dating. It was a thing between them. Their thing.

But this time. This was different.

The bright light shining through the window woke him up first. It was blinding, and he had no idea what it was. Was it daytime? Did he sleep in? Impossible, his parents would have never let him, despite being nearly twenty-three years old, and a guest.

Next, he caught on to the wind, the sound of something hovering. The light was coming from an airship? Batman? Wonder Woman? One of the Lanterns? Was there an emergency?

But as he sat up, he saw a shape drop onto his windowsill. A familiar one, one that put his heart at ease almost always.

But…it didn’t this time.

Because Damian’s silhouette was wrong. There was no cape, or even pointy-eared mask like there should have been. In fact, he seemed to only be wearing what he always wore under one of those uniforms. Compression leggings and long-sleeved shirt.

“Damian?” Jon asked as he sat up, and Damian dropped to the floor. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. But I’m not staying.” Damian explained quickly as he came into view. His face looked hollow, eyes dark. “I just…I just needed to see you before I left.”

“Left?” Jon kicked his blankets off, stumbling to his feet. Damian wasn’t the type to throw words like ‘left’ around easily. “What do you mean? You’re…you’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Wha…where are you going? What happened?” As an afterthought. “Is your dad okay?”

“He’s fine. In Gotham where he belongs. I…” Damian looked away. “I’m going with my grandfather.”

“No.” Jon stepped forward, grabbed Damian’s biceps. “You are absolutely not going with him, and I don’t care what he said or who he threatened, he cannot make you do anything you don’t want-”

“But I do.” Damian whispered. “I…I want to go. And I’m going of my free will. No one is forcing me.”

“No.” Jon was shaking his head. “No. I don’t believe you. You would never-”

“What my father is doing isn’t working, Jon.” Damian pleaded. “And his scope isn’t wide enough. His vision is today, not the future. But that’s what we need to work towards. That’s what my grandfather envisions.”

Jon was still shaking his head, still squeezing Damian’s arms. “No way-”

“I didn’t come here to debate.” Damian sighed, closing his eyes. Carefully, he wiggled his way out of Jon’s grip. “I just came to say goodbye.”

Before Jon could say anything else, Damian took a soft hold of his face and kissed him. It was heavy, desperate, but gentle, and so clearly apologetic. But even as Jon began to shift his arms to hold on to Damian’s waist, keep him there forever, Damian slipped away and was back to the window.

He looked back only once, then disappeared back into the dark.

To say Jon was furious was an understatement.

It’d been weeks since Damian disappeared. Weeks. And when he first went back to Gotham to tell him what Damian had said to him, Bruce hadn’t been surprised. Said he knew, and that he was looking for Damian himself.

And for a while, he gave Jon updates. Called him every few days with his new leads or any evidence he may have found.

Then he stopped.

And when Jon showed up in Gotham a few weeks after, he saw some kid with Bruce, at Wayne Enterprises. Same dark hair, athletic build and eager face as the rest of them.

“You’re not looking for Damian at all, are you?” Jon snapped as he burst into the office, ignoring all security and secretaries. “You’ve already…moved on, haven’t you?”

“You know that’s not true, Jon.” Bruce countered, weakly standing in front of this new boy.

“Do I? You stopped calling me with your leads.”

“Because none are panning out.” Bruce promised. “I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jon huffed. “…All this time, I defended you to Damian. But here, it turns out he was right all these years. You never gave a shit about him.”

“Jonathan!” Bruce admonished, face filling with his own anger.

“Save it.” Jon waved him off as a security guard grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. “I’ll just go find him myself.”

Nanda Parbat.

He’d never heard of it before, not even from Damian. But this lead came from Tim, through Conner, and not Bruce, so Jon believed it. Especially with Tim’s own unfortunate ties to Ra’s al Ghul.

It was freezing here, and Jon was almost starting to doubt Tim’s intel of a secret village, when a barrage of arrows came out of nowhere in the fog. They barely missed him, just as he almost missed the bola swinging straight for his throat.

In the moment of being overwhelmed with weapons, he lost track of where he was going, and found himself bouncing off the sharp edge of a jutting cliff, falling out of the air like a crashing plane.

The landing was surprisingly soft, thanks to the snow that he plopped into. But when he rolled over and opened his eyes, he found himself surrounded by a circle of masked assassins, each one holding a matching sword to his throat.

“Um…ow.” He murmured, rubbing his head. Slowly he raised his hands. “I, uh…come in peace?”

“You should not have come at all.” A voice called further away. The assassins all backed up a step, and some shifted to allow him to see. An old man had spoken, older than anyone Jon had ever seen.

Damian stood behind him.

“Surely the Detective has told you.” The man – Ra’s, Jon assumed – said. “You are not welcome here, Superma-”

Ra’s trailed off as Jon sat up. As he slowly got to his feet and ignored the danger of death all around him.

“You are not the Superman I am aware of.” Ra’s countered. Damian, still silent behind him, let his eyes grow wide. Jon grinned back at him. “But the rules still apply to you, and you are as unwelcome here as the original Superman is…”

Jon tuned him out as he moved forward. One of the assassins stuck his sword in front of him, and Jon just bent it in half as his walk turned into a run, and he all but barreled towards Damian.

He hit him head on, like a freight train, almost knocked him over, really. But Damian caught him anyway. Wrapped his arms around Jon’s neck as Jon wrapped his around Damian’s waist.

“You’re here.” Damian gasped, shifting his hand to clutch at Jon’s hair. “You’re here, you…you…what are you doing here?!”

“Looking for you, obviously.” Jon smiled against his throat. “I mean…last I checked, you’re still my boyfriend.”

Damian’s fingers twitched against his head.

“Unless that lame ass goodbye you gave me was supposed to also be a breakup.” Jon smirked. “And if that’s the case, I didn’t get the message, and also don’t accept.”

“It doesn’t matter what you are to him.” Ra’s reinserted himself into the conversation. “We don’t allow visitors of any sort here, least of all unannounced ones.”

Jon backed up a little bit, but only enough to turn. He kept Damian in his arms. “I’m not leaving without him.”

“Then I’m afraid you won’t be leaving here alive, Little Superman.”

Damian was instantly between them. “A few nights, Grandfather. Please.” Ra’s narrowed his eyes at him. “He was unaware of the rules, and their strictness. He should not be executed for his ignorance.”

“We don’t make exceptions here, Damian. You know that.”

“I also know I am the heir to your throne, and as future Demon’s Head, can do as I please.” Damian countered. “I’m only asking as a courtesy, out of respect for you. Now, either you let him stay, or I let him carry me away, and decide later if I wish to actually return.”

Ra’s frowned. “Watch yourself, Damian.”

Damian merely raised his chin. It’d look regal, if he wasn’t still half corralled into Jon’s arms.

“…Fine. He may stay.” Ra’s spun away, waving to the nearby assassins to stand down. “This time. Inform him of the rules, and remind him that he won’t get this mercy next time.”

Damian glanced back up at Jon, who gave him his best grin. “…Yes, sir.”

“Who told you about this place?” Damian asked. “Or how to find it?”

“Tim, technically.” Jon hummed from the bed, watching as Damian slowly walked around the room, lighting candles as he went. It gave the space a warm, comforting glow. “Well, I mean, Conner told me. But the info was from Tim.”

Damian nodded. “Guess I have to kill him, then.”

Jon laughed and rolled to his side. He couldn’t stop staring at Damian as he moved. He was graceful, yes, but it was more his clothes. Loose pants under an open, deep green robe.

Even in his pajamas, he looked royal. Like a king.

(Like his king.)

He himself was just in borrowed clothes. Offered the same as what Damian wore, but only took the dark green pants. Robes were never his thing.

“Well unfortunately, I won’t let you do that.” Jon laughed, ducking his eyes only a little when Damian looked back at him. “…He misses you, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Damian said dryly. “He and Father both, right?”

Jon sighed. “…I don’t know what Bruce is doing, but Dick, Tim and them…they never stopped looking for you. In fact, I told them I’d contact them if I found you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Damian hummed.

“Why, want to hide all the terrible al Ghul secrets from them?” Jon smirked. “I mean, doesn’t Tim already know most of them?”

“He does I suppose, but that’s not why.” He finished lighting the last candle and blew out the match between his fingers. He carefully put the smoldering piece in a nearby ashtray and turned fully towards Jon. “I want to spend time with you.” Damian admitted. “Uninterrupted.”

Jon felt his cheeks heat up instantly. He suddenly remembered that he was, gloriously, only half clothed. And that the only extra piece of clothing Damian had, the robe, was light and easily rippable.

“And you know if you contacted them, they’d attempt some kind of rescue mission, and come in guns blazing, etcetera, etcetera.” Damian drawled as he waved his hand around, walked towards the bed, and sat on its edge. “And that would just waste our time together, wouldn’t it?”

Jon smiled and flopped his hand out for Damian to take. Damian did so instantly, leaning down to drape himself across Jon’s chest.

“…You sure it can only be a few days?” Jon whispered as Damian trailed his fingers along his cheekbone. “Sure you really don’t just want to come back with me?”

“Want to, of course. We could get that log cabin in the middle of the forest you’ve always talked about.” Damian lamented, even as Jon dragged their combined fingers to his mouth and kissed them. “But I need to stay.”

“Why?”

“I can do good here.” Damian offered. “I can…learn things. Maybe one day put them to good use, or, heaven forbid, tell them to my father. Work together to save the world, and all that.”

Jon kissed at his fingers again. “And where do I fit in that plan?”

Damian hesitated, then sighed, attempted to pull his hand away and sit up, but Jon didn’t let him. Clung to his fingers, and wrapped his free hand around Damian’s back.

“It’s just a question.” He promised. “Not an accusation.”

“I…suppose I had hoped you’d take my last visit to you as an ending to our relationship.” Damian admitted sheepishly. “Not because I don’t-”

“I know.” Jon smiled, kissed his hand again.

“…I’d hoped you’d forget about me. Move on. Find happiness elsewhere.”

Jon grinned, pulling Damian down farther. “Impossible.”

Damian pursed his lips. “Well, it would have made my plan a lot easier.”

“I’d say sorry if I was.” Jon released their hands to hold the side of Damian’s face. “But we both know I’m not.”

He felt Damian’s smile as he pushed their mouths together. Damian melted against him immediately, hands running up his sides to curl into his chest.

Jon’s heart pounded, and he could feel the fast beat of Damian’s through his jaw. His hand twitched, nails just biting into Damian’s skin.

God, he missed this. Missed him.

“How…many?” He gasped as one of Damian’s hands found their way into his hair. “Days? How many days can I stay?”

Damian hummed. “Three at most.” He answered when parted for a quick inhale. “Four, if I begged, perhaps.”

“You, begging? I’d love to hear it.” Jon laughed as he shifted to begin kissing along Damian’s jaw. Damian pinched at his collarbone. “Any way we can extend my visit indefinitely? Or gain unlimited visiting access without potentially getting murdered?”

Damian hummed again, pulling back to lean thoughtfully on his elbow.

“…There are not many, I don’t believe. At least, not many that would apply to you.” Damian thought out loud. Jon reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind Damian’s ear, then ran his hand down to his shoulder, where he began to subtly push Damian’s robe off. “Members of governments and armies we are having dealings with and spouses are all that come time mind.”

Jon’s hand stopped on the curve of his arm. “Spouses?” He blurted. “People are married here?”

“Not many, but a few. Higher generals and some of the scientists, maybe. My bodyguard, Koru. He is. I’ll introduce you to some of their children in the morning, they’ll enjoy you.” Damian shrugged. “At least two of Grandfather’s wives stayed here in their lifetimes.”

But when Damian looked back towards Jon’s face he frowned. Jon was smiling.

“…What?”

“There’s our solution, then.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We get married. I become husband to the next Demon’s Head.” Jon’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Problem solved.”

Damian scoffed, sitting up completely. Jon released him only reluctantly.

“That’s ridiculous.” Damian snapped. “You can’t marry someone just to have unlimited…as Todd would put it, booty calls.”

“One, rude that you believe I think of visiting you as purely earth-shattering sexcapades.” Jon pushed himself up onto his forearms. “Two, also rude that you don’t think I’d want to marry you because, I don’t know, I love you?”

Damian just glared at him.

“Don’t look at me like that, we’ve said I love you to each other before. Many times.” Jon countered. “I mean, I know we haven’t said it since, you know, you ghosted everyone for three months, but still.”

“Marriage is a big decision.” Damian countered. “And I’m not letting you make such a spur of the moment decision on my account.”

“Who said it was spur of the moment?” Jon demanded. “I’ve been thinking about this for ages.”

Damian snorted. “You have not.”

“Have so. Ask your sister.” Jon countered. “She was helping me for weeks to figure out what kind of design I wanted for a ring, and had scouted a bunch of jewelry stores in Gotham and Metropolis. We were planning on checking them out the weekend you disappeared.”

Damian just stared at him. But there was less annoyance in his face now, more wonder. His eyes glowed in the dim light from the candles.

“I mean, we never made it to the stores, so I don’t have a ring. But I’ll go fly out to one of the mountains outside and make one out of stone if you want me to.” Jon sat up completely now. “I’ll even get down on one knee if you want that too.”

Damian just stared up at him. His cheeks were rosy, and Jon wanted to kiss him again, but now that he’d started down this path, he had a feeling it would be awkward if he just stopped his weird admittance of adoration to make out some more.

“I always thought we’d have a giant wedding, you and me.” Jon whispered with a dreamy smile. “But…this is an opportunity. This is a good opening. We’re together, we’re alive. And it kills me to think about, but when is our next chance to be both those things together?” He looked down, and took Damian’s hand between both of his own. “I…forgot, until I saw you again, outside. How much I missed you. How lonely I was. How worried. How miserable. How much I…worship the fucking ground you walk on, Damian.”

Damian didn’t say a word.

“Is it a means to an end? Well, if the end is me not getting killed for just stepping foot here, then to some it may look like that. But it’s not.” Jon hummed, stroking his thumb along one of Damian’s knuckles. “It’s just…no time like the present, you know? Potentially getting murdered gives us a good reason to get it done. To not wait, or hesitate.”

Damian stared at their hands.

“And I…I realized. When I saw you again. I don’t want another day without you. I don’t want another day without being yours.” Jon squinted, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. “Even if marriage wasn’t a potential solution, and I mean, you said maybe, you didn’t even say sure thing. But even if it wasn’t, even if Ra’s locked me up for staying too long, or showing up again, that’s fine. I’d be here with you, so I’d be happy anyway.”

“…It’d have to be long distance.” Damian murmured, turning his hand in Jon’s grip. “I can’t leave here. But I refuse to damn you to stay in this place forever too.”

“I know. I have stuff I need to do back home, too. A job and hero stuff. I’m not going to stop helping people or anything like that. But hey, it might work in our favor. I can be your eyes and ears back home. Keep you in the loop in case anything serious happens, and you need to come back, if only for a day or two.” Jon tilted his head. “And now that I know where Nanda Parbat is, I can be here every week. Every night.”

Damian looked up at him, eyes wide and almost disbelieving.

“And it’s weird to say, but you’d be safe here. No one will be able to find you, except me.” Jon smiled. “My very own prince hidden away and guarded by an evil dragon.”

Damian quirked a smile at that. “…We’d have to do it quickly. The wedding I mean. Before your three day time limit is up. After informing Grandfather, of course.” His smile faltered. “You wouldn’t get the big wedding you wanted.”

“I didn’t say I wanted a big wedding. I just said I always imagined that’s what it’d be, with both of us knowing so many people, and, you know, being Superman and Batman’s sons.” He squeezed Damian’s hand. “I’m more interested in the act than the event.”

“Oh, the wedding night?” Damian teased, rolling his eyes. “Of course you are.”

“Stooop.” Jon drawled as he threw his head back with a laugh. “I do not want to marry you so we can have, as you put it, secret mountain village booty calls whenever I can come out here.”

He heard Damian laugh too. Felt Damian squeeze his hand. “…Yes.”

The answer was soft, almost inaudible. Jon lowered his head to look Damian in the eyes, the tears in his threatening to overflow. “What?”

“Yes, I will marry you.” Damian whispered. “It would be my greatest honor.”

Jon felt a tear escape even as he leaned forward and engulfed Damian in his arms. Felt Damian wipe it away as he twisted his head to kiss him. Felt Damian’s own tears drip onto his face as they fell back into the bed together.

In the middle of the night, he reluctantly slipped out of the warmth of Damian’s bed and tiptoed to the door. He slowly slid it open and stuck his head out, glancing around for the one Damian called Koru, the bodyguard.

“Pst!” He hissed when he saw him, just down the hall. Koru narrowed his eyes, but quickly pattered over. “Can you do me a favor?”

Koru frowned. “No.”

“Why no…oh. Right.” Jon whispered. “You can leave your post, I promise I won’t tell. And I promise I’ll protect him in the meantime.” He let his eyes glow red as he pointed at them. “I’ve got heat vision and super strength and all that. He’s in good hands.”

Koru’s eyes had widened slightly. “…What do you want?”

“Go out and find the coolest stones you can find. As many as you want, but at least two.”

“What for?”

“A secret, but I promise it’s not a weapon. And I promise you’ll find out tomorrow.”

Koru hesitated for a moment, then huffed. “Fine. But if any of his blood is spilled, I will have your head.”

“Perfect.” Jon gave him a thumbs up. “Knock twice when you’re back?”

“…Yes, sir.”

“Cool.” Jon grinned at him and slid the door shut once more.

In all his years, in all his fantasies of getting married to Damian, the one thing he never thought was that he’d be getting married by the one and only Ra’s al Ghul.

He was ordained. In at least six different religions, and all countries but Norway. Who knew?

Ra’s wasn’t thrilled when Damian barged into his quarters the next morning, Jon in tow, to inform him of their intentions. If anything, he seemed most annoyed at the fact that Damian had upturned his plans for the day, and entered the room without knocking or any of the formalities he was supposed to perform.

He didn’t seem surprised, though.

“His mother fell in love with the Batman, and he fell in love with the future Superman.” Ra’s sighed in answer to Jon’s question as servants suddenly swarmed the room, dragging Damian away for wedding preparations. “It follows a pattern. Why should I be surprised?” Another group of women came into the room and began pushing him out of it as well. “Your ceremony is at dusk. Don’t be late.”

He didn’t see Damian the rest of the day, but it’s not like he was given a chance to notice. He was fed and, awkwardly, bathed. He was presented with what appeared to be traditional robes, made of the nicest materials he’d ever seen in his life, and stood on a stool as the clothes were tailored and hemmed by some of the women – “Call us your grannies, little American boy.” The eldest of them said – for the rest of the afternoon.

It was…nice, though. The women were kind, and the assassins sent as guards were respectful. Jon even got a few of them to smile. The children who were following their working mothers chattered his ear off, in between drawing pictures of him and ‘Prince Damian’ as they jokingly called him, and creating colorful crowns and headbands for him from the scraps of fabric scattered around the room.

After a light dinner that, against the instructions and commands of all the adults in the room, Jon ate with the children, there was a quiet knock on the door before it opened to reveal Koru, Damian’s bodyguard.

His clothes were much finer than the battle-ready armour Jon had seen him in since he arrived, and he felt a sense of honor wash through his system at the thought.

“It’s time.” Koru mumbled. Jon stumbled to his feet, and practically ran after him. The women and the children cheered in his wake, sending salutations and well-wishes after him.

Koru led him outside and down a path that seemed to leave the small village completely. Suddenly, the path took a sharp incline into the hills surrounding them, and Jon felt like they were walking into the clouds.

The end of the path opened into a clearing of pure stone, a cliff jutting into emptiness. The sky around them was a deep orange, the sun, giving off rays of golden light through passing clouds, merely a sphere of blood red on the horizon.

It was beautiful.

But Jon didn’t even see it.

Because Damian was there, with Ra’s and Goliath, standing on the edge of the world. His hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the cold earth below him.

He and Ra’s were in similar clothing, both green with golden accents, but Damian’s seemed a little more formal. The golden patterns a little more detailed, a sword fastened on his hip with a sash.

He looked a like a king on his coronation day.

And he was breathtaking.

The snow crunching under their feet alerted the others to their presence, and Damian spun around instantly. His eyes widened at the sight of Jon, and Jon had a feeling he was just as enamored with what he saw as he himself was.

Koru didn’t go with him as he walked forward, but he didn’t notice. He didn’t notice anything, Damian was the only thing that existed. Not the cold, not the assassins, not their superhero fathers.

Nothing.

“Stunning.” Damian breathed as Jon reached him. Jon smiled as he reached for his hands. Damian grabbed at them greedily.

“Those ladies know what they’re doing.” Jon laughed. He looked Damian up and down, then blinked, and looked at himself. “Oh…oh, that’s cute.”

“Hm?”

“The robes.” Jon grinned, nodding down to his dark yellow clothing, with green embroidery. “Mine’s the opposite of yours. You know, minus the sword part.”

“…Indeed.” Damian hummed, seemingly just noticing it himself. He smiled. “Very…cute.”

Ra’s suddenly cleared his throat. “Are you two ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Jon answered instantly.

“Don’t expect anything overly sentimental, Mr. Kent.” Ra’s warned, pulling a notebook from his own jacket. “This will be quick.”

“The quicker the better.” Jon grinned, squeezing Damian’s hands. Damian smiled warmly back. “Honestly, we can say our personal vows later. You can just skip the to ‘I do’ part, Ra’s and it’d be – oh!”

Damian frowned. “What?”

“I forgot.” He turned. “Koru? You still have them?”

“Of course.” Koru scoffed, offended. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something Damian couldn’t see, dropping it into Jon’s outstretched hand. When Jon pulled his hand back, Damian couldn’t help but gape.

Two rings, made out of the black stone of the mountains surrounding the village.

“Told you I’d make you one.” Jon said sheepishly.

“When?”

“Last night, when you were sleeping.” Jon laughed. “You’re a heavy sleeper when you’re happy.”

Damian’s face reddened with embarrassment, but Jon paid it no mind. Instead, he reluctantly let go of Damian’s hand, only to slowly slip the ring on. Ra’s took the hint, and began reciting the vow for Jon to repeat.

Jon didn’t hear a word he said. Repeated on autopilot, waited until he had permission to say the two words he wanted to most.

“I do.”

And Jon could have sworn that Ra’s said the vows slower for Damian, just to torture them both. So instead, he focused on the warmth of Damian’s fingers as he gifted him with the second ring. Laughed as Damian then reeled Jon in, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist.

He was already descending as he whispered, “I do.”

The universe restarted when they kissed; the second coming of the Big Bang. It took all Jon had not to clutch at Damian as tight as he could, and float off into the sky like a runaway balloon.

When they parted, Jon leaned their foreheads together. Goliath shrieked happily into the darkening sky.

“I love you.” He murmured, running his thumb along Damian’s cheek. “More than…than…I don’t even know what. Everything.”

Damian chuckled as Ra’s stepped away.

“You’ll both catch your death out here if you stay much longer. And it would be rude of you to die before your own reception.” He called over his shoulder. Jon leaned back, staring after the old man in confusion. Ra’s grinned. “The al Ghul heir just married. Even I am not so cruel as to say that’s not a time for celebration.”

Damian took his hand, tugging him along a few feet behind Ra’s and Koru. Goliath stayed behind them. “Why do you think no one else was up here, Beloved? They were preparing the food for the wedding feast.”

The party was a blur. But the best night of Jon’s life.

There was music, and dancing. He danced with the women who dressed him, and even a few of the assassins who, literally a day before, had swords to his throat. Ra’s even shook his hand at some point in the evening, muttering a tender. “Love him properly, or I’ll rip your throat out with my own hands.”

He danced with Damian, and they both danced with the children. Jon watched in amazement as the kids swarmed Damian, presenting him with tiny gifts like a flower or drawing, or those cloth crowns they’d made him earlier. Smiled as Damian thanked each child individually, let them climb all over him and drag him this way and that.

He thought he understood why they called him their Prince now.

But the best part, the most magical part of the night, was when the party was over, and they went back to Damian’s quarters. When Damian lit all those candles again and then came to the bed and laid in his arms.

There was no sex. Jon probably wouldn’t have wanted it even if it were offered. There was just basking in the presence of each other. Staring at each other in the dim, warm glow of the candles. Holding hands that now bore matching rings. Holding each other.

“Beloved.” Damian whispered. Jon closed his eyes, and hid his face in Damian’s throat. Damian ran his fingers through his hair. “My dear Beloved.”

It was the best night of Jon’s life.

He stayed for another two weeks. He befriended many of those living in the compound, and helped where he could, where he didn’t think his morals would be tested. Painting the kitchen and planting in the greenhouse, not sitting in on treaty negotiations or looking over scientific blueprints like Damian was with Ra’s.

But two weeks still wasn’t long enough, and saying goodbye – that he’d call, that he’d visit whenever he could, that he’d still listen for his heartbeat every second of every day – still ripped his soul out.

And Damian had smiled, but Jon could see the pain behind it anyway.

Because they both knew that along with missing each other, it would be hard. Because Jon couldn’t tell anyone. Didn’t want to tell anyone. Because Damian was his, and he couldn’t let anyone know he knew where he was. Where the League of Assassins was. Wouldn’t put him in that danger. Wouldn’t put those families and children he’d met and come to already love in that danger.

(Knew despite the acceptance of the marriage, if Damian got out of line, Ra’s would threaten Jon. Use Jon against Damian any chance he got.)

So he couldn’t brag about his husband. Couldn’t tell his parents he was married, couldn’t tell Dick, worried out of his mind, where his brother was. Had to lie about the ring on his finger. Yes, it was where you put a wedding band, but if he was married, he would have said something! Obviously! Besides, who would he marry? His last boyfriend disappeared into the wind!

And then most obvious problem. Jon was still a superhero. Damian the heir to one of the largest underground crime organizations in the world. Emergencies arose. Schedules were changed. There was never a promise of when they would see each other next. Never a promise that either of them would be alive tomorrow.

And that just sucked.

It was about a year and a half later, and Jon was sitting at his desk. The final bell had just rung on a Friday afternoon, and his students were gone for a long weekend. He just had to finish marking down the grades of Wednesday’s tests, schedule a parent-teacher conference or two and then put in that maintenance request to Phyllis, then he could go enjoy the long weekend himself.

A three-day weekend in the mountains sounded great right about now.

So he was a little embarrassed when the gentle knock on his doorframe made him jump. But the embarrassment was quickly replaced by surprise.

“Dick?” He asked incredulously.

Dick Grayson, newly minted mayor of Bludhaven, stood there, a smirk almost hidden by the beard around it. Jon still couldn’t get used to that facial hair, no matter how long he’d had it.

“Howdy, Jon.”

“W-what are you doing here?” Jon scrambled to his feet. “Everything okay?”

“Fine, fine.” Dick waved off, leaning against one of the desks. “It’d just…been a while.”

“I suppose…” Jon trailed off suspiciously. “But I’ve known your family long enough to know that no one just stops by without reason.”

Dick laughed. “You always did spend way too much time with Damian. Sounds like something he’d say.” That smirk widened. “How is he, by the way?”

Jon’s heart sputtered, but he kept his face the same. “How would I know? I haven’t seen him since he disappeared, just like you. What’s it been, two years now?”

“Well, I mean. I just figured you’d seen him since then.” Dick shrugged nonchalantly. “With you being his husband, and all.”

Jon opened his mouth to respond, to give the same lies as always, when Dick suddenly reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it, and skimmed it before showing it to Jon.

A marriage certificate.

Jon knew there was one. Knew Ra’s and his League was able to pull strings and get one expedited for their cliff side ceremony. He’d signed it, Damian signed it, Ra’s and Koru signed it. Then it was discreetly put into the United States’ system. No fanfare, no newspaper or tabloid announcements, no one knowing it was even there to look for either.

Jon closed his mouth and gulped. “…How did you find that?”

“Being a mayor gives you some privileges, I’ve found.” Dick hummed, even as Jon came around his desk and took the paper from his hand. “And I found myself missing my brother the other day, so I looked him up. Thought I might find some more recent activity or sightings. And here this was, right on the first page.”

They stood in silence. Jon staring at the paper and Dick staring at him.

“Dick, I-”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dick asked instantly, the hint of pain in his voice. “Why did you lie about that ring on your finger? Hell, why didn’t you tell us at the very least where he was?”

“Because Bruce stopped looking for him.” Jon said coldly. “And don’t defend him, Dick. You know he did. He stopped looking when that McGinnis kid showed up. And I don’t blame the kid, it’s not his fault, it’s just how Bruce is.” A deep inhale. “And then you know how Bruce is with Ra’s. He already had a feeling Ra’s took Damian, or Damian went with him, or whatever, so even if he found Damian, you know he would have gone in pissed off and wouldn’t have listened. Would have jumped to conclusions. Would have potentially hurt him.”

“…Okay, I’ll agree to that potential.” Dick admitted. “But, Jon, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because nobody could know, Dick. Nobody.” Jon said. “My parents don’t even know.”

“Famed investigative journalist Lois Lane doesn’t know?” Dick asked incredulously. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well maybe she does, I don’t know. But she took my word and hasn’t pushed the issue.” Jon shrugged. “If she and Dad are playing purposefully ignorant, that’s fine. That means Damian’s safe.”

“He’s not safe with Ra’s, Jon. I know you know that.” Dick countered.

“I do. And so does Damian. But he’s biding his time.” Jon explained. “He’s working from the inside. He wants to save the planet like Ra’s does, but he’s trying to manipulate the organization from within, make their methods more like Batman’s. Kinder.”

Dick shook his head. “He can’t do it by himself. He’s crazy if he thinks he can.”

“Well.” Jon smiled. A sad, lovesick smile. “Then he’s crazy.”

Dick frowned, ran a hand through his hair. “…I have to see him, Jon.”

“You can’t.” Jon stepped forward. “And you can’t tell anyone either.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because even if Bruce doesn’t make a move, word will get back to the League that they’ve been found.” Jon’s eyes widened. “And they’ll know it’ll be through me. They’ll know it’s because I spilled the beans and then Ra’s will punish Damian for it.”

Dick pressed his lips together.

“You know he will.” Jon breathed. “And until…until Damian can change the League or until I can convince him to come back, that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.” A second to think. “And I’d hope it’s not one you would either.”

Dick turned his head away and closed his eyes.

“…On one condition.” Dick said after a moment. “You put me in contact with him.”

“What?”

When Dick looked back, he suddenly seemed like he’d aged ten years. “I just want to talk to my little brother again, Jon.”

Jon pursed his lips, spun that stone ring with his thumb.

Damian was going to kill him. It was a secure line for just the two of them. But…

“…Fine.”

Most of the time, people were sick of snow by mid-February. Jon wasn’t though. And despite the fact that his school district had called for a snow day, he was up at his normal time. Only instead of rushing to the school, he took a leisurely walk to a nearby coffee shop to give himself a little reward for once.

A nice caramel-chocolate latte with extra whipped cream.

He was just exiting the shop, deciding to go to the park to have his treat. Just glancing up into the gently falling snowflakes.

“Beloved?”

Jon spun around so fast, he almost launched his coffee into a nearby window.

“Dames?”

And it was, Damian stood right there, looking far too fashionable than any human had a right to be. A gray pea coat with a blue scarf wrapped neatly around his neck. Black leather gloves, one of which held a bouquet of flowers, dark jeans and black combat boots.

Jon’s heart soared.

“Dames!” He shouted, running at him and jumping into his arms. Damian chuckled, returning the embrace. “What are you doing here?”

“I had meetings in San Francisco yesterday, and decided to stop by on my way home.” Damian smiled as he pulled back, and presented the flowers. “It seemed that it would be…rude not to, given the occasion.”

Jon took the flowers. “Occasion?” He sniffed at the petals. “What’s the occasion?”

Damian blinked, then laughed. “Jon, I think you’ve been working too hard, if you’ve forgotten.”

Jon closed his eyes. “It’s not our anniversary, I know that.”

“You didn’t have a party with your students?” Damian asked. “Or, I suppose that tradition ends after elementary school.”

Jon racked his brain. “The…Super Bowl?”

Damian laughed again. “Valentine’s Day, Beloved.”

“Oh my-” Jon gaped. He glanced into the coffee shop’s window. Paper hearts adorned the walls in decoration. “Oh my god. I forgot Valentine’s Day.”

Damian laughed for a third time, reeling Jon into his arms.

“I can’t believe I forgot Valentine’s Day.” Jon lamented, leaning against Damian’s shoulder. “Divorce me, Damian. I forgot Valentine’s Day.”

“Never.” Damian said warmly. “I know your classes were cancelled today. Have any other plans?”

“Honestly, I was just going to watch cartoons all day.” Jon admitted sheepishly. “But now I just want to spend all day with you.”

“That can be arranged.”

“…How long are you in town?” Jon whispered. “How long can you be in town?”

“Two days.” Damian returned, with a kiss to Jon’s forehead.

“Then we better make it count.” Jon decided, leaning up and capturing Damian’s lips with his own. When he allowed Damian to pull back, he smiled. “Hope you like take out.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Because baby, you are not leaving my bed for the next forty-eight hours.”

Once more, Damian laughed as Jon clutched his flowers and coffee to his chest in one hand, grabbed Damian’s hand with the other, and all but dragged him down the street.

The phone rang in the middle of the night.

Jon didn’t jump, phone calls in the middle of the night weren’t new. And he didn’t bother to look at the caller ID. He supposed it didn’t really matter. If they had his number and they were calling now, it was enough.

Still, when he hit answer, he couldn’t help but slur, “Hm?”

“It’s me.” Damian whispered, his voice trembling. He seemed to hesitate, thinking what he was going to say next. “It’s done.”

Jon sat up. “Sweetheart?” He asked. “What’s done? What’s wrong?”

“Ra’s is dead.” Damian said simply. “I…I am now the sole leader of the League of Assassins.”

“Oh, Damian.” Jon cooed. He threw his covers back. “Give me thirty minutes, okay? I just need…I need to grab some pants and I’ll be there.”

And he was. In less than thirty minutes, really. Closer to twenty.

Koru was waiting for him at the compound entrance. He nodded solemnly, then silently led Jon to where he needed to be.

Jon could hear people wailing in the distance. Word must have spread already. And he’d forgotten – Ra’s was a monster. A villain. Evil.

But he meant something to the people here.

Koru led him to a large, ornate door. He opened it, and gestured for Jon to go inside.

The room was dark, but it didn’t matter. Even if he didn’t already see him standing next to that bed, the sound of his heartbeat would have guided him.

He only glanced at the dead body. It was Ra’s alright, and even without the lack of a heartbeat, Jon could tell by the color of his skin he was gone.

But he didn’t care, if he was honest. Never cared about that old man, never cared about what he was doing so long as it was held in check. He only cared about Damian.

Jon stepped up behind him, carefully wrapping his arms around his waist, pulled him back into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Damian shrugged. “We knew it was coming.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Jon tried. “You’re allowed to grieve.”

“There was no love lost between Ra’s and I, so there’s no need.” Damian pushed back. “I just…wasn’t ready.”

Damian pulled away and turned towards him.

“I…I didn’t have enough time to gain the loyalty I needed.” Damian sighed. “Many…many here do not trust me. Or do not believe in me.”

“I believe in you.” Jon offered.

Damian smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, Beloved, your opinion does not matter to the assassins now under my rule.” The smile disappeared. “I’ve already been visited by one of my grandfather’s most loyal scientists. He and I have never agreed, and he’s never trusted me. I sense that will get worse in the coming days.”

Jon frowned. “Do you want me to stay? In case he tries anything?”

“He won’t. He’d be stupid to do anything during these days of mourning.” Damian promised. “And Koru is more than capable. I am more than capable.”

“I’d feel better if I did, though.” Jon shrugged. “I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Damian’s eyes suddenly twitched over Jon’s shoulder. Jon turned and found an older man passing by the door. He had white hair, and wearing an odd metal suit of armor.

The man glanced in at him and frowned at Jon. Seemed to frown at Damian too. But he didn’t say anything, just continued on his way.

When Jon turned back, Damian was looking at him again, his face warm. “You’re too sweet, Beloved.” He gently took Jon’s hand. “Now come. Since you’re here, you can stay for the funeral at dawn.” A snorted smirk. “Superman attending the funeral of Ra’s al Ghul. Isn’t the world a funny place?”

Jon was woken by a rapid knocking on his apartment door. Damian must have heard it too, as he was suddenly trying to burrow into Jon’s side.

“I’m going to buy your building a doorman.” Damian mumbled as Jon reluctantly rolled away from him. “So then no one can knock on your door. Ever.”

The knocking continued. “I’m coming!” Jon shouted as he yawned. “I’m-”

“Hurry up, bro!” Jon froze.

That was Conner.

“Just give him a minute.” Another voice scolded.

Tim.

“Fuck.” Jon whispered, spinning around. Damian was still curled up in his bed, only half hidden by comforter. Jon quickly ran from the room, slamming his bedroom door shut behind him. He fell into the front door, opening it only enough for his face to show. “…Hey guys.”

Conner grinned. “Mind if we come in? We just had a killer patrol, and we’re starving.”

“Uh…” Jon hesitated. But before he could answer, Tim pushed his door open for him. “…Well, I guess.”

“Conner’s not lying. We’re starving.” Tim mumbled, bee-lining towards the kitchen. “I’ll reimburse you, I promise.”

As he shoved his head into the refrigerator, Conner smiled apologetically, clapping a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “How you been, Jonno? Feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’m…good.” As Conner went into the kitchen himself, Jon glanced back to his bedroom door. “Summer vacation and all that.”

“I’d say you’re lucky if you got paid more during the school year.” Conner hummed around a piece of bread Tim handed him. “Doing anything for a second job this summer?”

“Just more patrols as Superman.” Jon shrugged. And more time at the League of Assassins compound in Nanda Parbat he didn’t say. “Some travel, if I feel like it.”

“You meet the new Batman yet?” Tim asked as he poured some orange juice. “Terry. He’s not bad.”

“No. Haven’t had the chance.” Jon mumbled. Hadn’t wanted to was the real answer. Because Damian was Batman to him, he still had that hope. Still believed Damian would return to the title one day, permanently. “So much for World’s Finest, huh?”

“Well, you know Bruce.” Tim shrugged. “He’s kind of hogging him anyway. We only see him at galas.”

“None of you work with him?” Jon asked. He tuned into Damian’s heartbeat for a second, found it still slow, so Damian was still dozing. He could only pray Conner didn’t use his same ability, and hear the same thing.

“Not really. We’re getting old.” Tim laughed. “I’m spending more time at Wayne Enterprises. Dick’s a goddamn mayor. Cass works at Steph’s practice. Jason’s doing…whatever Jason does.”

“But you’re working with Conner.” Jon smirked.

“I called in an old favor. Timmy can’t say no to me.” Conner grinned.

“Please.” Tim snorted into his glass. “I was bored.”

The two began to banter, and Jon found himself glancing back to his room.

God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to tell his brother, and someone like his brother, that Damian was there. That they were married.

That Damian was fucking alive.

And he wanted to bring it up. Wanted to bring Damian up. Ask if Tim remembered his brother, if they’d been looking for him still, if he cared at all. Or at least more than Bruce.

But he couldn’t risk that.

So he smiled and nodded and partook in the conversation, and didn’t mention a thing. Entertained the two for a half an hour or so before, luckily, they excused themselves first before he had to start leaving hints for them to leave.

As soon as he closed the door behind them, he dashed back to his bedroom, only to find Damian still sleeping, only now taking up more of the mattress, arms spread side to side.

Jon blinked then laughed out loud as he walked forward and collapsed back into bed. Damian groaned as Jon twisted their legs together, and he began peppering kisses along Damian’s shoulder.

“…Has my brother left yet?” Damian whispered after a moment. Jon pressed his head against Damian’s.

“Mhm.”

“…Did you tell him anything?”

“If I did, do you think you’d still be in here peacefully sleeping?” Jon smirked. “Tim probably would have come in here just to kill you.”

Damian hummed.

“But alas.” Jon sighed dramatically, curling his arms around Damian’s one. “You’re still my dirty little secret, Mr. Demon’s Head.”

Damian never opened his eyes, but he smiled anyway.

“I think…I should feel insulted.”

Damian’s lips twitched up. “Most people would feel honored, I believe.”

“No, I mean.” Jon rolled towards the edge of the bed, glancing towards the drawing desk his husband sat behind. “You sent me a text that said ‘ASAP.’”

“I did.” Damian murmured, eyes following the tip of his pencil as he moved it across the paper.

“And here I came running because I thought you were in danger. That the mutiny you’re so concerned about finally happened.” Jon continued. He glanced at the candle nearest him, gently hovered his finger through the flame.

“That’s very kind of you, Beloved.” Damian glanced up, frowned. “Please don’t burn your finger.”

“But there was no emergency. You weren’t dying.” Jon sighed, flopping his hand down. He looked up through his lashes. “You just wanted to draw me.”

Damian smiled. “Like I said, most people would probably be honored.”

“I feel like I should be mad.” Jon muttered.

“In my defense, I did say as soon as possible, not right this instant.” Damian mused. “That was your interpretation.”

“Well, how am I supposed to stay mad at you, sitting over there looking like a…a goddamn angel in a wave of holy light?” Jon scoffed. “And you sit there worried about me burning myself? You bump one candle and your desk and drawings are all up in flames in an instant.”

“I doubt you’d let that happen.” Damian chuckled. “Now, despite your wiggling, I’m almost finished.”

“And what’s my payment?” Jon asked, stretching his leg in the air, curving his spine. He felt Damian’s heartbeat stutter a little. “For being your beautiful model?”

“Well, I hope some ice cream your so-called Grannies made when I informed them you were en route is satisfactory.” Damian suggested. “And…I can only hope my undivided attention is a suitable accompaniment.”

“I do love my Grannies and their cooking.” Jon agreed. He turned to his side and propped himself up on his elbow, gave Damian his most seductive grin. “And I definitely do love you a whole lot more.”

Jon watched the heat rise to Damian’s cheeks. The pencil suddenly began moving across the paper faster.

“I’m almost done.” Damian promised.

When he saw it was Bruce Wayne calling, his stomach dropped.

“Jon.” He’d murmured softly. “I…I found Damian.”

Jon blinked.

“What?” And it wasn’t a faked question. He felt his heart speed up. Because if Bruce, if Batman, found Damian and the League then-

“He’s…alive.” Bruce whispered gratefully. “He’s…leading the League of Assassins, and I’m working on that. But…but I just thought you’d want to know. He’s alive. He’s…okay.”

“I…I didn’t know.” Jon lied. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me, Bruce.”

“You were…you are so important to him.” Bruce sighed. “You deserve to know.”

“Can I…Can I see him?” Jon continued. “Can you tell me where he is?”

“I…don’t think that is a good idea. For now.” Bruce sighed. “But. One day, Jon. I promise.”

When they hung up, Jon immediately took to the skies for the Himalayas.

He found Damian on their wedding cliff. He was staring out into the emptiness again. Back straight, hands clasped at the small of his back.

Goliath stood nearby.

“Damian?”

Damian’s head lifted and he turned. Jon instantly took in the new cuts and bruises.

“Jon?” Damian immediately moved towards him. “What are you-”

“Your dad called.” Jon reached out when Damian got close enough. He ran his thumbs over a blossoming bruise on his cheek. “Told me…the basics.”

Damian smiled sadly.

“We…reconciled, I suppose.” Damian whispered.

“You suppose?” Jon asked gently. “You don’t sound very confident about that.”

“It’s…it’s what we’ve always said. He didn’t come after me. He didn’t care where I’d gone. He replaced me.” Damian breathed. “He…he only came here after McGinnis. When he thought I was going to kill him.”

“Well. You clearly proved him wrong. You didn’t kill anyone.” Jon paused, glanced back at Goliath. “Where’s Koru? He never lets you out of his sight.”

“He is…recuperating.” Damian sighed, trying to turn out of Jon’s hands. Jon didn’t let him. “He attacked my father for a grudge I was unaware of. I had to take him down. He then attempted to set off missiles that I’d decided against. He needs…time to think about some things.” Damian closed his eyes. “…I have no control.”

“You do.” Jon said. “You’re doing…amazing things here, Damian. I know it. Your dad knows it.”

He paused, to run his hand over Damian’s hair.

“I could tell when he called.” Jon offered. “He missed you.”

“He didn’t look for me.” Damian reminded.

“But he’s protecting you now.” Jon said. “He called to tell me you were alive. I played dumb, I asked if he would tell me where you were and he refused.”

“That’s not protection, that’s shame.” Damian countered.

“Damian, change takes time. You know that. I know that. Bruce knows that.” Jon squeezed his cheeks a little. “I don’t think he would have called me to tell me you were alive if he was ashamed.”

Damian shook his head. “I don’t know if I can change the League faster than the coming mutiny.”

“I know you’ll do everything you can.” Jon kissed his forehead. “And I’ll be right behind you. I won’t let them do anything to you. I swear.”

“…Thank you, Beloved.” Damian whispered.

“Mhm.” Jon murmured into his hair. “Now, come on. I’m making an executive decision. You need a break.”

Damian merely wrapped his arms around Jon’s neck as Jon lifted them into air and turned towards Metropolis. Goliath followed.

He should have been more alarmed when he heard the lock jiggle. Should have at least had his super strength ready.

But he’d had the flu all week. Him, having the flu. What the fuck.

“Just go ahead and kill me.” He whined as loud as he could. “Give the stuff in my fridge to my neighbor. I don’t want it to go bad.”

He heard the lock click and the door open, but didn’t even look.

“I might have some pizza you can heat up if you want.” He mumbled, closing his eyes. “If I even tried to eat it, it’s coming right back up.”

He didn’t hear anyone.

“If I puke on you, will you go away?” Jon drawled. “Oh wait, can you give me another blanket first? I’d like to at least be warm when you kill me.”

Suddenly there was a scoff, and blanket fluttering over him.

“Beloved, since when did you become so dramatic?” Jon looked up and felt tears well up in his eyes.

“Damian.” He cried. He reached a shaky hand up and Damian took it in his, kissing his knuckles.

“Hello Jonathan.” Damian smiled. “Still feeling bad?”

“Worse than when I called you.” Jon admitted. “You didn’t have to come all this way just because I’m puking.”

“Through sickness and in health.” Damian reminded. “It’s the same in all languages and religions.”

“Stop.” Jon called as Damian backed away. “Stop being so cute.”

Damian snorted. “You need fluids.”

“They won’t stay down.” Jon sighed. “…Wait, did I give you a key to my apartment?”

“No.” Damian hummed. “I could have just come in through the window, but I figured that might concern you. So I…called Grayson.”

“He has a key to my place?” Jon called. “Since when?”

“It’s Grayson.” Damian reappeared behind the couch, handing Jon a glass. “Probably since forever.”

“I hate your family.” Jon decided. “I barely even see them and I hate them.”

“I know.” Damian offered sympathetically. As Jon took the glass, Damian walked around the couch, and Jon found himself staring.

“What?” Damian asked when he noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re in your evil leader garb.” Jon mumbled, gesturing to Damian’s green robes. “You didn’t change?”

“I came as soon as my meeting was over.” Damian shrugged. “So…I suppose I didn’t think about it.”

“…The Demon’s Head is making house calls.” Jon smiled weakly. “The new Ra’s al Ghul is going to make me soup.”

“Eventually, if you can keep that drink down.” Damian smiled, smoothing Jon’s blankets.

Jon felt his exhausted tears fall as he took a sip.

It was like out of a movie.

He arrived in the middle of the afternoon, and gave a fake name to the hotel concierge. The man typed in the name, stared at the screen, then smiled, and handed Jon a key.

He took the elevator, inserted the key for the private floor, and stood in the corner. Smiled to the couples and families who stepped on and off on various floors. Tapped his finger against the lining of his pocket.

And when the lift opened into the penthouse apartment, Jon almost fainted. Almost swooned right then and there.

Damian sat in the breakfast nook, practically glowing in the early evening sun that shone through the window. He wore nothing but a silken robe, open at the chest, a book open on his crossed knee and a cup of tea in his hand.

“Damian.” Jon whispered carefully. Damian looked up and smiled. Sweetly, welcoming. “You’re going to need to put that tea down.”

He barely gave Damian the second he needed to that before he crossed the room and swept him up in his arms, all but throwing him onto the nearby bed.

Damian grunted as he bounced, but gave a laugh as Jon crawled up his body. “And here I thought you’d want to eat first after your flight.”

Jon just grinned and kissed him as hard as he could.

And that’s where they’d been now, for hours. The sun had set, but Jon had never gotten off of Damian. Not that Damian had let go of Jon himself.

“One more.” Jon whispered into Damian’s neck, remarking a hickey on Damian’s next that was already dulling. “One more round.”

“Oh?” Damian hummed sleepily, fingers locked on and tugging at Jon’s hair, the other arm was tight around Jon’s waist, just above where his ankles hooked together. Jon glanced up at Damian’s amused eyes. “I didn’t realize the last round ended.”

Jon bit at his throat, and thrust his hips at the barb. Damian groaned, his leg twitching involuntarily in pleasure, digging into Jon’s spine. He released Jon’s hair and ran his hand down to his chin, tipping Jon’s face up until he could kiss him properly. Jon smiled as Damian tried to devour him, tried to act like he was the one in control.

Well, that just wouldn’t do.

Jon shifted his weight upwards, changing the rhythm of his movements, drinking in every sound Damian tried to hide. He carefully took the hand Damian had under his chin and intertwined their fingers, pushing the hand into the mattress. Damian tried to push back, but Jon decided he wanted to cheat, just a little, and used his super strength to keep his hand down.

Damian noticed. Growled quietly, “You asshole.”

Jon looked down at him with half-lidded eyes. “You like it.”

Damian bit his lip, lowered his eyes. Jon felt him dig his nails into his hip. That was as much of a yes as he was going to get.

And that was fine. That was good. Because Jon wasn’t lying, he wanted this to be the last round. He was getting a little bit tired, and he could tell Damian was too.

Besides, sex was cool. Sex with his husband was great. But it wasn’t even his favorite part.

The afterglow. The cuddling. The staring into Damian’s eyes and seeing the universe. The warmth of his skin as he held him in his arms. The gentle sounds of them saying just how much the other means to him.

And they’d been at it for hours. They were slow, they were fast, they were desperate, they were sensual.

So he’d hoped he’d be forgiven for rushing now, ready for it to end. He bucked quickly, bordering on faster than the speed of sound, needed to stay in his head enough not to do that, not hurt Damian beyond pleasure, but he kissed slowly. Carefully.

Adoringly.

When Damian tugged his hand away, Jon let him. Felt his heart pound as Damian wrapped his arms around Jon’s neck, held him as close as their skin would allow.

They came together.

Jon collapsed onto Damian’s chest, shifting only enough to pull out. Damian kept his arms tight around Jon’s shoulders, his hand returning to stroke at Jon’s hair.

“There is a warm bath ready for whenever you’d like it.” Damian whispered. “And room service. We just have to call the front desk.”

“Hm.” Jon smiled. He found himself pressing more kisses to Damian’s throat. “I’m good right here with you.”

Damian laughed. “Jonathan, we’re disgusting.”

“I’m okay with that.” Jon hummed into Damian’s skin.

Damian snorted and rolled them to the side. He held the side of Jon’s face, staring into his soul.

“Happy anniversary, Beloved.”

It was silly, and he was ashamed of himself.

Like, jeez, he was almost thirty, and here he was in the middle of the night, drowning in insomnia because he missed his husband.

Well…there were other things. But it was mostly that.

He rolled to his side, grasping for his cell phone even as guilt coiled in his gut.

The line rang only once. “Hello, Jonathan.”

“Hi.” Jon muttered. “You busy?”

“No.” Damian sounded amused. “It’s only seven in the morning.”

“Oh. Oh yeah.” Jon sighed. Timezones sucked. “Can you…video chat?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Hang on.” Jon said a little too quickly than he meant. He pulled the phone away and tapped a few buttons. An instant later, Damian filled the screen.

He was still in his pajamas and dressing gown, but he sat at his drawing desk, the phone propped up on the top corner. When he realized the connection was made, he smiled. “Hello.”

Jon gave him a tight smile. “Howdy, handsome.”

“Is everything okay?” Damian asked immediately. “You sound…sad.”

“I miss you.” Jon mumbled into his pillow. “It’s been months.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Damian sighed. “I’ve been swamped.”

“It’s not all your fault. I could fly out there any time.” Jon flopped back. “But being Superman…”

“Is far more important.” Damian finished for him. “I understand.”

“Cases haven’t been great lately.” Jon continued. “I haven’t really been saving the day real well.”

“But I know you did your best.” Damian soothed. “…Is there anything I can to make you feel better?”

“Come here?” Jon tried.

Damian laughed. “Anything reasonable?”

Jon glanced around his screen. “Are you drawing right now?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Jon smirked. “Draw me a picture.”

“And what would you like a picture of?”

“I don’t know.” Jon sighed. “A puppy.”

“A puppy.” Damian snorted. “Alright.”

He flipped over whatever he was working on and instantly the pencil started flitting around the page.

“I really do miss you, though. More than being bummed about the bad cases.” Jon sighed. “I think I’m just lonely.”

“It happens to the best of us.” Damian agreed. “Would you like me to have Grayson come visit you?”

“Nah, he’s busy.” Jon waved off. “I can call my own friends. Eventually.” He paused, listened to the pencil. “…What do you do when you’re lonely?”

“Call you.” Damian smiled. “And when you don’t or can’t answer, I call Maya while I draw you.”

“You draw me? When I’m not there?”

“Of course. I have an entire folder.” Damian admitted, turning his page. His hair, still unkempt from sleeping, fell into his eyes. “Koru calls me obsessed.”

“You’ve never shown me this folder.” Jon pouted.

“Because I was embarrassed.” Damian admitted. “And sometimes the children take the sketches as coloring pages.” Damian’s eyes widened a little bit, a blush dusting his cheeks. “The…less lewd ones, anyway.”

“Oh my god, if you want me to sext you, just ask.” Jon teased, the tension in his heart releasing a little.

“I prefer the real thing.” Damian chuckled. He made a few more lines across the page, then picked it up, twisting for the camera. “How’s this?”

It was a Dalmatian, with large dark spots and big eyes. Floppy ears and a doggy grin.

“It’s perfect.” Jon smiled. “Send it to me so I can color it?”

Damian snorted. “Sorry, it’s only available for pick-up.”

“Okay. I’ll come get it soon.” Jon yawned. “…Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You need your rest.” Damian hummed.

“…Draw me to sleep?” Jon asked. He felt pathetic, like he was begging.

“Of course.” Damian nodded, reaching for another piece of paper. “Want me to tell you a story as well?”

“Sure.” Jon sighed. “Tell me about your day yesterday.”

“Not that exciting, but if you wish.” Damian nodded.

Jon closed his eyes, and drifted off to the sound of a scratching pencil and Damian’s soft voice.

Jon was in the middle of class, when he got the sense something was wrong. He tripped over the cord of his overhead projector, and his students laughed, but he told them to get an early start on their homework as he scrambled to his desk.

He checked all the news sites, but there didn’t seem to be anything urgent. No mention of his parents or friends. No catastrophe or apocalypse. Everything was fine.

But then he tuned in to Damian’s heartbeat. And everything was not fine.

It was slow and weak. And Jon had heard that sound before.

He’d heard the sound of someone dying before.

He jumped to his feet and out of the classroom, ignoring his students’ calls after him. He ran to the principal, rambled about a personal emergency, then was gone before his boss could ask any questions.

Jon waited until he was off campus before he took to the skies.

But there was a problem, he realized, as he neared Nanda Parbat. He could still hear Damian’s heartbeat, he was still alive, but it…it wasn’t here. The heartbeat was far away. Faint.

He slowed above the League compound, hesitating. He could see men running around, shouting, loading into airships.

He could also see a trail of blood, leading away. He could see where the trail ended, at a mess of claw marks.

Goliath.

There was blood. There were marks from Goliath. Damian was dying.

Where would Goliath take him?

It took him two seconds to realize.

Gotham.

Jon spun around and took off for a second time.

He knew he was on the right path when Damian’s heartbeat got louder. But it didn’t bring any comfort, because it didn’t sound like it was getting any stronger.

As he reached Gotham airspace, he got a glimpse of Goliath, flying behind some black dot, heading towards Wayne Tower. So he didn’t think. Didn’t decide. Let instinct take over and followed them.

He saw the assassins coming in the distance, and he felt his anger grow.

The mutiny must have happened. Damian’s worst fear.

He balled his hand into a fist.

He would not let them hurt him.

He burst into the building, hot on Goliath’s tail. He landed and slid across the tiles, destroying them completely. The black dot, Batman, spun around, stepping in front of Bruce, who had appeared in the room.

“What happened?” Jon bellowed.

“Jon?” Bruce asked. “How did you-”

“What. Happened?” Jon repeated. He glanced at Goliath, Damian limp in his arms. Blood oozed from wounds all across his body. He was unconscious. “…Can you save him?”

Bruce looked over. “…Yes. Goliath, over here. To the recovery tank.”

And Jon never felt so helpless as now, as he watched Terry McGinnis help Goliath lower Damian into water that looked far too much like Lazarus. As little robots swarmed his body.

He stood next to the machine, wishing more than anything that he could stick his hand in the liquid and hold Damian’s.

“…How long?” Bruce suddenly asked. Jon twitched and looked up at him. Batman and the little boy who Jon only just now noticed were tending to Goliath.

“What?”

Bruce pointed to Jon’s hand, to his ring. He pointed to the matching one on Damian’s hand. “How long?”

“…Seven years.” Jon murmured tiredly. “We eloped in Nanda Parbat.”

Bruce closed his eyes. “You never told me.”

“I never told anyone.” He tilted his head in a wince. “…Dick only found out on accident.”

“Dick knew?” Bruce asked. Jon nodded.

“I swore him to secrecy. I’m…kind of surprised he followed through.” Jon admitted. “I…you two were on bad terms. I didn’t want you going in there and potentially starting a war. Potentially hurting each other.”

“We saw each other last year.” Bruce whispered.

“I never stopped him from telling you. That was his choice.” Jon added. “…How did you not notice the ring then? Damian said he never takes it off.”

“He wore gloves the whole time.” Bruce shrugged. “It wasn’t something I was looking for.”

Terry reappeared then, and he and Bruce began to talk about the situation at hand. The city currently being overrun with assassins.

Jon didn’t care.

He had just crossed his arms, was tapping on his forearm, when suddenly, Damian burst from the water in a frenzy. He was screaming and disoriented, and he set his sights on the new Batman.

“Kill.” Damian hissed. Bruce tried to grab for him, but he was too slow in his old age, and missed. But that was fine. That was cool.

Jon was between Damian and Terry in a millisecond.

“I’ll…kill…” Damian breathed, fist still ready. Jon just smiled, and took his face in his hands.

“I’d like to see you try.” Jon mused, leaning down to kiss him. Damian instantly became putty in his hands.

“…You’re with family.” Bruce offered behind them, as Damian’s mind seemed to catch up. His spine straightened, and he reached out to hold Jon’s waist. “You’re safe.”

Jon pulled back, but continued to hold his face as he repeated, “You’re safe.”

“Well. For now.” Terry interjected. “Mind telling us what the hell is going on, so we can maybe save the world?”

Damian sighed, stepping away from Jon. But not too far. Not far enough where Jon couldn’t immediately hook their fingers together. “His name is Zeh-ro. But some call him Mr. Zero…”

It was kind of cool, if Jon thought about it. There was a short ice age. Dick showed up, his daughter too. Damian played well with others. And Zeh-ro was taken down, his plan destroyed.

The Earth saved. Millions upon billions of people were saved.

“The League is yours again.” Jon hummed, watching Matt jump around the roof with Goliath. “…So, I take it you’ll be leaving again soon?”

“…Well, not necessarily.” Damian shrugged. “I mean, Nanda Parbat was turned into a launch pad, and is currently unlivable. The families there have been moved to safer ground, and those remaining loyal to me are all here or protecting the families, so.” He looked at Jon. “You’re stuck with me for the time being.”

“Great.” Jon smiled. He stepped to the side, winding one arm around Damian’s waist. “Better than great, actually.”

“Oh?”

“In fact, the longer you’re here, the more time I’ll have to think up a plan to keep you with me forever.” Jon smirked, bouncing his nose off Damian’s cheek. Damian laughed, and leaned into him. Jon looked across the roof. He could see Dick glancing their way as he spoke with Bruce, a warm grin on the old man’s face himself. “And I don’t think I’m the only one who might be happy with that.”

Damian looked over himself. “…You’re all a bunch of old, sentimental fools.”

“…I’m younger than you.” Jon reminded.

Damian pursed his lips. “Old, sentimental fool.”

Jon laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the city. Goliath responded with a happy roar of his own. Damian smirked as the McGinnis brothers, Graysons and Bruce laughed too.

It was a good day.

“…Welcome home, Damian.” Jon whispered.

Damian sighed, taking hold of the hand Jon had on his hip and leaning into his chest. “Thank you, Beloved.”

#jon kent #Damian Wayne #jondami

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dukethomas · 4 years

Text

Summary: Duke and Damian, over the years.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m sorry, what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then teach him non-lethal methods.”

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

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

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

Unfortunately, his dreams are less than pleasant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinks, his eyes drooping.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shadow,” he blurts, lurching forward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely not.”

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

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

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

Damian is dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He flees.

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

And Duke remembers why another name was given to Gotham.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He needs you!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course, that’s when Damian returns.)

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

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

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

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