#Dick may have been doing what he considered best but Tim was hurt by it too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justcourttee · 3 years

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hiiiii i don't know if you take prompts or requests or anything, but would you maybe consider writing a sequel to A Moment Too Late? maybe with a happy ending? i love your writing!!

I tried for what I’ll call a happy-ish ending, but I hope you still enjoy it!

*WARNING* This piece and part 1 mention attempted suicide and can be difficult for some. Please, please, please be sure you feel comfortable reading about this topic before clicking below the title.

In The Nick of Time

Damian took his first step into the city of love at 4:00 pm.

He had a general idea of where to begin, but the combination of no sleep and jet lag was taking its toll. He had tried reaching out to her several times on the flight over, but she ignored his every effort. It could have just been the fact that she was in her classes. She may have been suicidal, but maybe she still took her education seriously?

It wasn’t likely, but it helped put his mind at some ease, hoping he still had time. His first order of business was renting a car. Technically speaking, his father had a villa on the outskirts of the city with a multitude of cars to pick from, but seeing as no one knew where he was, he wasn’t eager to tip them off.

He gazed over the taxis lined up, eagerly looking to take advantage of the tourists piling out of the airport behind him. He didn’t want someone to eager, he just needed someone who looked on the brim of exhaustion. His eyes landed on a poor man propped against his car, his eyes drooping like Tim before his first cup of the day. Perfect.

“Excuse me sir, but I’d like to rent your car from you for the day.”

The man peeked one eye open as he glanced warily over Damian.

“Scram kid, it’s a package deal, me and my car. You can’t just rent one or the other-”

Damian smirked as the man snatched the bundle of money from his hand, popping off the taxi light that stood on top of his car. As Damian slipped into the driver’s seat, he motioned for the man to step back over.

“Here’s a couple of extra bills to catch yourself a taxi home.”

The man’s mouth gaped as if he was searching for air underwater. Damian didn’t even bother to see if he would step back from the curb as he pulled off. The one benefit of the agonizing six-hour flight was Tim’s laptop. Damian had managed to hack into each of the high schools around the city until he narrowed it down to three Marinette’s. After looking at approximate ages and distance, he assumed she had to be the first; one Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Her family owned a bakery a little less than a mile from the high school and on the off chance she hadn’t stayed for any clubs or activities, she should be arriving there at any moment. Damian tapped the address into his phone ignoring the multitude of messages he had between his father and Dick.

It was a simple fifteen-minute drive from the airport.

Damian exhaled sharply as he sped down the exit. Fifteen minutes was enough time. It had to be enough time. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Welcome to the bakery! Is there anything I can interest you to today?”

The woman’s face wore a mixture of fake smiles and exhaustion. It might’ve been enough to fool the average customer, but to Damian, she simply looked one gust of wind from collapsing.

“Uhm, I’m looking for Marinette? Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Is she here?”

Instantly her fake smile dropped and the exhaustion settled into the creases of her face. There wasn’t even a hint of worry at the mention of her daughter’s name from a stranger’s mouth. It irritated him.

“Look, whatever she did now, we don’t have any money for a settlement. Maybe you can work out a deal with her, but we have nothing more to give.”

The woman offered him a half bow before pointing him to a small door at the back of the store. He assumed she meant for him to go through it and without another word, he stepped past her. As he made his way up the countless stairs, his irritation only grew.

He was well aware that there were parents out there indifferent to their children, but his soulmate wasn’t supposed to have one. She was always so happy and carefree when they were younger, abusing the bond whenever she could. He assumed it was because her parents had drilled into her that it was within her right too. But after that short interaction, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Finally, a white door came into view. Hesitantly, he reached out the knob twisting without resistance. Inside was a moderate flat with what appeared to be an attic access. As first impressions went, he thought it seemed like a warm and gentle place to grow up in. Very different from the windowless stone building he began in.

He slipped out of his shoes, placing them beside a pair of light pink ballet flats before taking his first step. Someone was home and by the looks of it, it should be his soulmate. Damian contemplated on whether to call out or not. He didn’t want to frighten her, but he thought it might be worse if he just opened random doors instead. Finally, he settled on attempting their soulmate link once more.

“Marinette? Are you there?”

There was no answer, but he couldn’t be sure if that was just the continued strike from his earlier efforts. Tentatively, he took another step forward, his eyes scanning the apartment. It was pretty much an open concept, so he could see everything quite easily. The only thing that eluded him was the staircase leading above.

That had to be where she was.

“Marinette? That’s how you pronounce your name, right?” Damian sucked in a breath, resisting the urge to hit himself. No matter how he intended it, he sounded like he was some stalker here to kidnap her. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just wanted to talk.”

It didn’t sound any better. Maybe he should've stuck with a gentle introduction through their bond. Speaking out loud only reminded him how terrible he was with people. Animals were easier. Everything that needed to be said could be expressed through body language.

Biting the bullet, he decided it couldn’t get any worse than barging straight up the staircase into the attic. As he pushed open the access, the first thought that crossed his mind was-

“A mess,” clothes were strewn across the floor, remnants of paper scattered within the piles. The walls were a soft pink at one point, but it looked as if someone had taken a paint scraper to them, mere flakes hanging on by a thread. For such a well-put-together apartment, the room almost seemed abandoned.

Pulling himself into the room, Damian left his legs to dangle, his toes longing for the security of the stairs just below him. It didn't seem that she was in here either. He remembered passing another floor, perhaps that was also part of their apartment? Just as he decided to plant his feet back onto the sturdy steps, his fingers brushed over one of the scraps of paper he had seen earlier.

Instinctively, he pulled his hand away from the floor, his eyebrows furrowing. Damian was fairly certain that wasn’t how paper should feel. Reaching back out, he gathered a few nearby scraps. Turning them over one by one, a picture began to form. A group of girls, all laughing completely lost in a moment of time. His curiosity bested him as he pulled himself into the room, gathering each of the scraps he could find.

A half dozen photos was all he could form by the time he collected the larger pieces. Most were group shots, but two were of a blonde guy. Upon further analysis, he determined that he was the son of the fashion dictator Gabriel Agreste. He had seen the boy at a couple of Bruce’s international parties.

Perhaps she thought he was attractive? After all, the photos seemed to be ripped from a magazine, unlike the other four. As he glanced around the room once more, he felt like he had finally found a straw to grasp at. A reason she dropped so far, so fast.

But as much as he gathered from her room, he still had no idea as to where she might be. Her shoes were at the door, but it didn’t seem as if she was anywhere in the apartment. Standing slowly, Damian took a step back toward the access he had entered through when a breeze tickled the back of his neck.

His entire body stiffened as his hand moved slowly to where he kept his emergency kunai.

“Is that you, Marinette? If so, you’re pretty good at masking your presence. I didn’t even sense you approaching.”

There was no response, but now that he knew she was there, it was easier to pick up on her shallow breathing. In one swift movement, Damian flicked his wrist backward, ducking to avoid any retaliation.

A soft grunt earned a glance backward, his eyes widening a bit at the sight. She hadn’t even tried to dodge it. Lodged into her right shoulder was his kunai, and just below it, centimeters away from her heart, was a pocket knife. A bright pink light blinded him and instinctively his arms darted out. When he could see again, a petite figure rested against his frame.

“Marinette?” She was unresponsive, a deep ruby dripping from her wounds. “Marinette!”

What was this panic he felt rising? He’d seen comrades die on the battlefield before, wounds more deadly than this. So why couldn’t he move? Logically, he knew he had to act fast, but his body wouldn’t inch.

“You’re her soulmate, right? Do something!” Damian’s head snapped up, but he couldn’t find where the voice came from. Whoever it was, it was enough to break whatever daze he had fallen into.

“Okay Marinette, I have basic medical training and I can patch you, slow the bleeding, but I can’t remove either blade. Do you understand? I’m going to have to move you, quickly and as stable as possible.” Her breathing was shallow, but her eyelids flickered in what he hoped was a response. As gently as her could, he lifted her into his arms, attempting to avoid moving either stab wound. Her soft grunt pulled at his heart. “Hold on a little longer Marinette, please, I need to apologize.”

The stairs were one agonizing moment after another and as he laid her into the backseat of his rented car, he felt winded himself. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Damian quickly pulled out his phone, cursing as it slid through his hands.

“Dammit, where did it fall?” He frantically searched, his heart rate rising with every passing moment. Was this the world’s way of punishing him? He killed and fought and argued every passing moment of his life. He pushed her away and now that he thought he was making a change, he could just waltz back into her life as if nothing had happened? He wasn’t going to make it.

“Just drive, I’ll guide you.” Had he finally lost it? It was the same imaginary voice he had heard before. Perhaps it was his subconscious, a guardian angel? Could he really trust it? “Drive boy, take a left at the stop sign.”

He couldn’t afford to wait another moment so he did what felt most logical; he drove. The drive was killing him, each painful breath becoming slower, a dagger to his heart as they escaped from her mouth.

“Just leave the car in the front, save my friend.” The only thing keeping him going was the voice.

Damian had barely parked, his feet already slamming on the pavement before the engine had stopped. Gathering her into his arms, he burst through the sliding doors, the fear rising in his throat.

“Help! I need help!” He knew his French was rusty, but he had to try. The nurse tentatively approached him, her gasp needing no explanation. A stretcher was rushed, and as they ripped her from his arms, Damian couldn’t help the anger he felt.

“Be careful with her! She’s going to die if they shift too much!” A security guard stepped over, his hands raised as if he meant to calm Damian. He took another step forward, trying to grip Damian’s arm. “What are you doing? I need to be with her! Marinette I’m right here! Can’t you hear me? I need you Marinette! Please don’t leave me!”

Damian watched as they placed the stethoscope on her chest, grim expressions hastening their step.

“Don’t look at her like that! Help her! Please!” It felt as if his lungs were collapsing, his vision blurring. Why was he reacting like this? He barely knew her. In fact, this was his first time ever seeing her.

“Sir, please calm down. They are treating your friend right now, the best thing you can do for her is sit and wait.”

The man led him to a couch where his legs finally caved, his back sinking into the chair. Damian lifted his hands to his face, wiping the tears he hadn’t even realized he had cried, but it only left his cheeks damper than before. Slowly, he pulled back his hands, his stomach plummeting. There wasn’t an inch of skin left uncovered by the red.

“Oh, oh,” Had he really not noticed how much blood she had lost? He was so focused on getting her here that he didn’t even consider if she would make it. “I thought I could make it, I thought I still had time.”

Damian recognized this feeling rising in his chest. It was the same as when he collapsed on the roof, the same as when he heard from her after so many years of silence. Was this what his mother meant by a soulmate bond being a distraction?

He had never understood why people took the insane challenge of fighting his Grandfather for a chance to leave the league in search of their soulmate. If he was honest, he thought it was a pointless endeavor and he couldn’t begin to imagine how someone believed they could pull it off. But, as his chest tightened with the rising waves of nausea, a realization washed over him.

A soulmate bond was so powerful that even if you just met them, you felt the need to protect them, to care for them. You became vulnerable for them, scared to lose them, terrified of how the world would be without them. It was a terrible weakness and a strong ally.

“Can you walk to the bathroom?” Damian felt his head stir, but it was as if it were being pulled by strings, out of his control. “I’ll explain everything if you could just meet me there.”

How could this voice be so all-knowing? Hadn’t it just surfaced from his subconscious as a way to kickstart his movement again? Yet, if that were the case, why did he find himself rising, stumbling toward the bathroom in a daze?

He slipped into the closest stall, collapsing against the door, the minute it locked. Why did he feel so drained? It was less than 500 feet.

“Do you need to sit down? I know that this must be hard on you.”

Damian’s eyes scanned the stall in search of a source for the voice, but alas, he came up with nothing. Sliding to the ground, he chuckled to himself, his hand clutching his shirt.

“I’ve finally lost it. Todd told me this day would come, but how could a dumbass like him even know?”

“You haven’t lost anything, I’m right in front of you, you just have to push through the veil.”

Damian perked up, squinting his eyes at the space directly in front of him. Slowly, but surely, his eyes focused on a red blur until the floating object came into full view.

“Holy shi-” Two paw-like things pressed his lips together, a disapproving look monopolizing its small face.

“Can you keep it down? And what’s with all this foul language? I can’t say I approve of you being my Chosen’s soulmate with a mouth like that.”

It floated a few inches away, crossing its arms as if trying to push the point across. Damian tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. He was positive that he hadn’t had anything. Perhaps this was one of those sleepless hallucinations that Drake constantly rambled on about?

“I know that look, I’m not a hallucination, I’m a kwamii! My name is Tikki and I am Marinette’s partner. Together, we merge to become the superheroine of Paris, Ladybug.”

Ladybug? He had heard Bruce mention a Parisian team. They asked for any heroes to stay out of Paris as their villain was one that manipulated emotions, turning his victims into puppets of his own bidding. No wonder Bruce and Dick were blowing up his phone. They weren’t just worried about him running off, they were also worried about him breaking an international treaty.

Damian blinked slowly as he processed the image in front of him. Kwamiis. He had heard the legend of them back when he was apart of the League of Assassins, but he had no idea they truly existed. Why was his soulmate in possession of the most powerful being in the world?

“It’s a long story soulmate of the Chosen. I have traveled long and wide and have had many wielders before, but never one as capable as Marinette. When I first found myself as her partner, she was clumsy and shy, but so friendly and kind, always going out of her way to help people. Together, we defeated the original Hawkmoth, but in the battle, his kwamii was reclaimed by one of his partners and a new Lady Hawk emerged.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The kwamii shot him a questioning look as if the answer was obvious.

“I’m trying to give you the full picture of where it all began. You blame yourself as the catalyst, but you were only a small stepping stone in her downfall, almost not worth mentioning.”

Damian felt an odd swelling in his chest. It almost felt like, relief? Had he really been this worried that he had pushed her down this path? A lonesome tear trickled from his eye, but he was quick to snatch away.

“Marinette had friends, a boyfriend even. She wasn’t completely lost without a soulmate. After all, her parents weren’t soulmates, and her best friend was rejected by their soulmate too. She was happy.” The kwamii paused, her smile reminiscing before it slowly morphed into a frown. But it all changed when a wretched girl transferred into her middle school.”

“Just one girl changed everything?”

The kwamii nodded, small tears forming.

“She was the real catalyst. The reason everything fell apart.”

Damian lost track of how long he sat listening to the small God. When he stood to return to the waiting room, he couldn’t help but clench his fist in an attempt to calm himself. Marinette had to pull through, she just had to. Damian had to show her that there was more to life than this shitty one in Paris. He had to rescue her like his family had for him.

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

It was 36 hours before he was allowed back to see her.

She had been lucky, the knife had missed her vital organs and even though it had punctured her lung, she seemed to be on track for a full recovery, one that she needed to take slowly. Damian dealt with the police on her behalf and thanks to Tikki’s information, he was able to help them identify the mugger.

Tikki had gone ahead to talk to Marinette and to give him time to freshen up. He didn’t have much, but the little he had packed at least got him fresh clothing, clothing not stained with her blood. Alfred would not be happy with him once he returned.

Damian was unsure how to approach her. He had found some flowers in the gift shop he thought were nice and some chocolates as well. But as he stood in front of her hospital room, he realized he hadn’t figured out the first thing he should say to her.

I’m sorry? No, that sounded too arrogant after everything she had been through. My name’s Damian, I saved your life? No, that would be condescending. God, he really hated talking to people.

“Are you going to come in or just sit outside all day?” Her voice sent shivers down his spine. She hadn’t always been this cold, but he couldn’t blame her.

Hesitantly, he reached out, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. She looked angry, slight red emphasized on her pale skin, the dark circles under her eyes protruding as if they dared him to comment on them. There were a million and one wires and tubes poking out in different directions, some hooked to machines, some to random bags of fluid.

Yet, despite all of it, she still looked absolutely stunning.

“Well, sit down or something. You’re creeping me out just standing there.”

Damian shuffled awkwardly to the opposite side of her bed, his legs wobbling as he lowered himself into the chair.

“Uhm, I brought you some flowers-”

“I hate the color white.” Damian felt his eyebrow twitch, but he tried his best to hold back the expression he felt. Gently, he reached back, setting the flowers on the windowsill.

“I-Uhm-I also brought you some chocolat-”

“I’m on a liquid-only diet for the next two weeks.”

Damian could feel the red rushing to his face as he breathed deeply. He knew there was a chance that she would be spiteful, but he hadn’t been completely ready for it. His fuse was short, even if it was his soulmate, he wasn’t sure he could contain the explosion.

“Are you feeling any better?” Marinette scoffed, her eyes never leaving her hands.

“Did you fly all the way to Paris for small talk Damian?” He wasn’t sure how to respond, knowing his next words might be his last. “Ask what you really want to. Like why did I detransform before trying to face the mugger? Or why have I tried to kill myself multiple times even if each time ended in failure?”

“I-”

“Ask me why all my friends left me. Ask me why my master chose the easy way out, forgetting everything before passing on weeks later without even a single message about his death from him or his girlfriend. Ask me why I hate life so much that I just don’t see the reason in living anymore. Ask me if I think you’ll change my mind! Spoiler alert! You won’-”

“God woman, do you ever shut up? Give me five damn seconds to get my thoughts together.”

Damian instantly felt the eyes of Tikki fall upon him, the anger draining from his body only to be replaced by his rising fear. He felt the apology building up, but before he could even let the first word spill out, a bitter laugh cut him off.

“Yeah, I do shut up. But only sometimes. I figured Tikki told you everything. I also figured you’d have questions. I’m not interested in telling my sob story over again and I’m not interested in some knight in shining armor swooping in to save me, Got it?”

Damian tried to speak, but it was as if his voice were caught in his throat. What could he say to her? He wasn’t trying to be her knight? He didn’t need her explanations? Everything sounded so thoughtless, but he couldn’t string together one coherent and earnest sentence to save his life.

“What I am interested in is your nonsensical shouting. You ‘need me’? You just met me, how do you know that you need me?”

If he wasn’t already as red as a tomato, he was certain that was how he looked now.

“I,” he cleared his voice, praying to whatever was listening to keep the crack away, “I just had this feeling swell up in my chest seeing you like that. I was terrified and it scared me. It scared me to feel that way about someone who I had just laid eyes on. I had heard about soulmate bonds and how they affect you. They can strengthen you, but they can also be your downfall. I needed to get to know you, to know how our bond would affect me.”

He paused, the feeling of her eyes on him choking him up.

“I, uh, I know it’s selfish, but I couldn’t let you die. You don’t have to believe me, you don’t even have to listen to me, but I have been where you are before. But before I could even make my first attempt, I had a group of people come into my life, people who lifted me up and saved me. I was scared that you didn’t have that and I arrogantly believed I could do that for you. I’m truly sorry Marinette, but I refuse to apologize for saving your life. If I could, I would do it over and over and over again as many times as it takes until you decide to keep living.”

The silence was deafening. Even if she just yelled at him and told him to leave, he would take it over this quiet. He didn’t dare look up, he barely felt the urge to breathe. It was as if everything fiber in him was holding their breath, waiting to hear her response, any response.

“You’re really not gonna leave me alone, huh?”

Her voice sounded tight as if she were holding back tears. The urge surged through him to reach forward and pull her into a hug, but he contained himself, defaulting to a simple nod instead. Again, the silence followed, but he was patient. He would wait all day if it meant hearing her speak again.

“Fine. I’m not guaranteeing a damn thing, but I can offer you a start.”

“A start?” Damian risked a small glance up, his heart racing at the sight. She was smiling, a genuine smile. It looked out of place among her tear-stained face, but he would be lying if he didn’t say it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

“Yeah, apparently I’m going to need someone to stay by my side 24/7 when they release me. Someone to take care of me. A stay-at-home nurse if you will. So, I nominate you, Damian. Your response?”

“Absolutely, it would be my honor.” His reply was instant, his smile unwavering even after she chucked her pillow at him, cussing him out in a manner that Todd would be proud of.

Yes, it was just a start. Yes, it didn't mean anything was fixed. But, there was one thing that put his heart at ease.

He wasn’t too late.

No, in fact, he was just in time to save her life. And at that very moment, he vowed to never wait till it was almost too late again.

Despite everything that had happened, he decided he could live with that.

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#marinette x damian #maribat #daminette

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jinmukangwrites · 3 years

Text

Whumptober 2021 - October 1 - Bound

Fandom: Nightwing, Batman - All Media Types

AO3

Warnings: Kidnapping, Panic Attacks, Isolation, mentions of IV/needles

---

It’s been hours since Dick’s woken up… here.

“Here” is hard to describe, yet incredibly easy. He can say for sure that at least within the 180 degrees ahead of him, it’s all white. White walls that, if arranged in a mirrored-image behind him, might make a hexagon. The ceiling above him is bright and unforgiving, LED lights dotting the space above him like freckles on Barbara’s cheeks and shoulders. He can’t see any sign of a door ahead of him, and the gray-speckled white tiles that make the floor aren’t particularly enjoyable to look at.

Yeah, describing what he can see about the room is the easy part. The hard part is that behind him? It’s all guess-work. For all he knew, there could be nothing behind him, or a cliff, or… or something ridiculous. There could be a whole manner of things behind him, but it’s impossible for him to get a look because his head is strapped to the cushioned chair he’s forced to sit on.

He hates this. It’s been hours. The chair, while cushioned, isn’t even that comfortable. The way his arms lay on the armrests and his feet come together near the end of the chair suggests a dentist’s chair and a therapist’s sofa had an evil love-child who was into bondage, considering how many straps were buckled in to keep him trapped down.

He’s going to lose his mind. Did he really just make a bondage joke about a chair?!

Anyway, he’s stuck here, his arms pinned down by the wrists, elbows, and under his armpits. Two heavy straps run over each shoulder and cross in the middle of his chest to connect back to the chair near his hips. And speaking of hips, there’s another strap around them too like an old Volkswagen seat belt. More straps around his thighs, knees, and ankles keep his legs locked together and down. That’s not even mentioning the binds that lock around his neck or the one around his forehead that’s fitted to the headrest that seems designed to not let him even attempt to rotate his chin to the side.

It’s horrible, and awful, and cruel, and unusual, and he’s not even that sure why he’s here. All he can tell is that he has a massive headache, his Nightwing mask is on but his suit is gone—replaced by some sort of nightgown that definitely doesn’t seem friendly, and whenever he tenses his arm he can feel a tug in his wrist.

Must be an IV of some sort? It’s strange though, from what he can see he can’t see any medical equipment hanging around him. But it has to be an IV. With his night job, he’s become familiar with the way his lips go dry and how his fingers tremble when the damn needle gets put in his arm.

But… if it is an IV, it must need changing by now, surely. It’s been hours, and those things don’t last that long.

Hours. Sitting here with the feeling of a needle in his arm, not sure where he is or what he’s doing here, nothing to look at besides those Barbara Gordon freckles on the ceiling and those gray speckles on the tile.

He tugs on the restraints for what must be the thousandth time, and growls when nothing happens, as unsurprising it is. All his attempts to slip out of or break the restraints have left him with nothing but bruising and irritated skin. However, he feels so restless and bored out of his mind that tugging on the belts seems to be the only productive thing his brain can think of to do.

He tugs again, and nothing happens. He sighs. Relaxes back. And… tries to think of how he got into this mess.

It’s just as successful as breaking the straps.

-o-o-o-o-

“Okay, I’ll bite,” he calls out to nothing. His eyes hurt, he’s exhausted, he needs to pee and that’s something he doesn’t want to deal with. “What do you want from me, eh?”

Silence. His hands bunch in angry fists and he pulls against the straps hard enough for him to feel the edge bite into his skin.

“Batman’s identity?” He tries, because it’s always about Batman’s Identity (TM). When there isn’t any answer, he continues. “Police secrets?” Nothing. “Superman’s identity?”

Nothing. He growls and glares at the empty walls ahead of him.

-o-o-o-o-

He’s using the pain in his wrists, focusing on the warmth running down the cuts the straps have finally created, instead of the pressure in his bladder.

It only lasts so long.

Great, so now he’s bored out of his mind, stuck, and the room smells horrible. Or, the room smells horrible until whatever unseen vent takes away the reek and the chair dries, leaving him being the only one who’s smelling.

He hates this. He hates this. He hates this.

He jerks against every restraint and snarls in impatience and restlessness. He can feel the cuts tear more, but he’s close to not caring, he longs to move.

If his snarling eventually fades into howls, then he’s almost positive no one is around to hear it other than himself.

-o-o-o-o-

Bruce’s cape settles around his feet as he lands, launching droplets of questionable sewage water up to his knees. Damian lands beside him, the whites of his domino mask narrowed in fierce determination.

It’s been nothing but a series of long hours since the Riddler kidnapped Dick with the clues to his whereabouts left carved into the pavement with abandoned Wing-Dings. During Bruce’s search, a few things became apparent: Dick was trapped, alone, and Bruce had until Dick died from malnourishment once the crude IV he was apparently attached to ran out. Riddler is already behind bars, has been for several hours, but interrogation wont get him to give up his games, and Bruce may be a vigilante and “above the law”, but he wont stoop so low as to torture.

At least, not until things get desperate and Damian’s not around to see. Dick would never forgive Bruce, and will probably never talk to him even in any kind of afterlife.

But it hasn’t come to that, Tim solved the riddle through emails delivered from wherever he’s located with his Young Justice friends. They’re always changing spots, and even if Tim were to come home and solve the riddles in person, it would probably be too late.

It isn’t too late, he reminds himself as Damian takes off down the sewers. They know Dick’s exact coordinates. Bruce almost kicked himself when Tim revealed them, because of course lead to Gotham’s abandoned sewage system.

The way to Dick’s location is a tough one, one riddled (as Dick would say) with traps. But they’re nothing compared to a worried father and a determined brother. They find the door nudged neatly behind a section of brick, and when Bruce opens it he’s almost blinded by the night vision in his lenses adjusting to the sudden attacks of bright lights.

Bruce sees before he hears. His eyes were always one of his favorite senses, which is probably why Damian—a boy who’s had to hear to save his life many times—ran to the chair in the middle of the hexagon-shaped room before him. White walls, white tile, white LED’s to sit in a white ceiling. The back of a padded chair in the center of the room faces him, revealing nothing of what it contains.

And then Bruce hears the screaming. Weak, clawing screaming that sounds like what sandpaper would feel on dry skin. He knows this scream, the tones to it, and within moments he’s running to the front side of the chair with Damian.

Dick’s there… writhing. Blood stains skin and cloth around almost every strap holding him down from struggling that must have been continuing for hours. As Damian tears an IV—the tube feeding him nutrients disappears within the chair; there must be some sort of mechanism keeping it working within its structure—Dick’s struggles like he doesn’t notice the change. His eyes are squeezed shut, tears drip down his cheeks, and his screams are so so hard to listen to. Does he even know they’re here?

“Dick,” Bruce says, knowing there’s no one to hear him with Riddler behind bars and his goons scattered. Dick doesn’t respond, just continues to yowl like a wounded stray cat. Already, Bruce can see the symptoms of prolonged use of an IV and of exhaustion. Has Dick slept at all since being kidnapped?

Damian begins work on one of the straps around Dick’s jerking wrists. Bruce follows suit, quickly, desperately wanting to get his eldest out of here, but he’s forced to abandon his task when the loosened strap on Damian’s side allows Dick to tug his wrist free and move to hit the boy. Bruce catches his hand before the hit can be met.

“LET ME GO!” Dick screeches.

“Dick, we’re helping you,” Bruce shouts back wearily, but Dick doesn’t listen as he begins to babble all kinds of demands similar to let me go. Bruce gives Damian a look. “He’s exhausted and most likely delusional. Our best course of action would be for me to hold him down, and you undo the rest of the straps. Maybe we can get to him without having to risk drugging him once he’s no longer restrained.”

Damian looks all parts of his age as he takes a second to give a shockingly vulnerable stare Dick’s way. The vulnerability only lasts a moment before Damian’s nodding. “Got it.”

The next several minutes are filled with events that will reveal themselves in bruises with the coming days, even through the kevlar. It’s tough work keeping a Dick Grayson down, especially when it’s a Dick Grayson who absolutely refuses to be kept down in the first place. However, eventually they release the last strap around Dick’s other wrist and soon enough, both Bruce and Damian are jumping back and Dick launches himself out of the chair, stumbling to the floor and then falling to his ass when his knees give out. Dick looks pitiful, trapped between wanting to curl up and cry or stand up and run, yet curling up seems to win out as Dick must have no energy to lift himself back up.

“Dick,” Bruce calls again when Dick’s hoarse breathing calms, and this time, hope flutters into his belly when Dick’s shoulder’s tense in response.

“… B…?” comes a horribly weak response, but a response nonetheless. Bruce rushes around the damned chair to where his eldest still sits, curled up and shaking. He reaches out unconsciously, kneeling down to scoop Dick up in an embrace, but stops when Dick violently flinches away.

“Don’t touch me,” he whimpers, “just- I don’t- I couldn’t move-” he breaks into sobs.

Bruce is almost considering returning to Arkham and breaking a few bones. Instead, he lowers his voice and speaks as calmly as he can.

“I understand. But we have to get you back home. Just your arm around my shoulder, and I’ll support you while you walk. Can you do that?”

It’s proof of just how shaken Dick is when it takes a few moments to get a hesitant nod.

Bruce does his best to ignore Dick’s flinching and twitching while, with permission, Bruce helps Dick up and wraps his arm exactly where Bruce said he would. Damian stands a few paces off, looking torn. Bruce tells him to run ahead and bring the bat-mobile closer to the sewer opening while Dick blinks owlishly and gulps like a fish… doing his best to keep down what must be a pending panic attack. Damian thankfully leaves without much argument, and Bruce is left to help his eldest, hyperactive, always moving, always smiling, always stimming in some way or another son out the blasted room and towards freedom with as much control given over to Dick as possible.

“I scared Dami,” Dick whispers through clenched teeth, halfway through the sewage tunnels.

Bruce hums and resists tightening his grip on Dick’s arm. “It’s not your fault. He will not hold it against you.”

“I scared you.”

“… I was scared for you. But right now the only thing that matters is getting you home. Then everything can return to normal”

Dick nods his head, his voice choking in what must be another sob. “Okay,” he whispers, “okay.”

And Bruce silently vows to punch Riddler a little harder the next time he sees him.

But right now, the only thing he cares about is that Dick’s alive, and Bruce is bringing him home.

#whumptober2021 #dick gryason #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #damian wayne #robin #fanfiction #no.1 #bound #panic attacks tw #jin writes

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miss-choco-chips · 3 years

Text

Bird Watchers

It was something like an open secret in Gotham, that even though all it’s heroes were open to help no matter the situation, each one of them had a special affinity to certain matters.

For example, children from all districts knew to yell for Nightwing if they found themselves lost and scared. Small business owners often painted little Oracle symbols on their doorsteps, to warn away possible thieves with the knowledge that Gotham’s cryptic hacker had their eye on them. Working girls would send a quick prayer to the Red Hood before seeing their seediest clients; and as such, knew who to call for if things took a turn for the worst.

And Red Robin… well. His was a very specific bunch.

---.---

Warnings: depression, suicide attempts, overdose comic-typical violence (discussed, not explicit). Hurt-comfort all the way, baby. There’s also one scene, with the redhead, that I copied from the comics.

(it’s almost 2 am, I wrote half of this in one go, don’t @ me for mistakes. I’ll edit tomorrow. Maybe.)

---.---

The first time he stopped a suicide, he had just turned thirteen. The suit still felt wrong, too loose in all the places where Jason’s bigger presence would have been a better fit. Too small, too brainy, not brash enough, not good enough.

He would never think himself worthy, but he was all Batman had. There were no other candidates, not ones he could have thrown the job at without risking Bruce’s identity, so he’d have to make do.

But even so, he had been gaining a little confidence over the past few months. His training with Shiva, and Dick’s and Bruce’s focus on making him as ready for the streets as humanly possible, had ensured he never encountered a situation where he couldn’t handle himself, or get back up in time to avoid any casualties.

Except for right now.

“Hey! Don’t do it, please!”

Yeah, maybe yelling at the man precariously balanced on the edge of a how many feet tall building wasn’t his wisest moment. He’d berate himself later. Now was freak out time.

Said man stumbled for a second before regaining his footing and turning to look at Tim. He couldn’t be more than forty, with a bit of an overgrown beard and tired eyes. He had something clutched in one hand, tanned and calloused from work, the other over his chest, probably due to the scare of having a bat suddenly appearing behind him.

“R-Robin…”, he gasped, shook out of whatever reverie he was going through for a second. “W-what… I mean, why are you…?”

‘Okay, Tim, breath. Can’t call B, he’ll notice, get startled and jump. Can I catch him if he does? My grappling hook is made to withstand more than my weight, but if I can’t handle the strain of swinging us both to safety…’

He couldn't risk it.

“Good evening, Mr…?”

Surprise and good manners made the man automatically answer, “Ed. Ed Harrinson.”

Encouraged, Tim took a tiny teeny step forward. Ed’s entire body shock and he leaned backwards. Tim froze, fear keeping his breathing and heartbeat hostages for the time being, stopping the first and kick starting the second.

“Mr Harrinson, I’d like to ask you to step away from the edge? I’ll call an ambulance for you, and…”

“No!”, the man screamed, suddenly over his surprise, a look of determination trying to masquerade his obvious exhaustion. “If you call an’one, I’ll jump.”

Tim wisely kept the ‘you were gonna do it anyway’ to himself. He nodded slowly, hands emerging from the confines of his cape to show Mr Harrinson the lack of a communication device.

“I won’t, then, but may I come closer? Please?”

It was on the last word, high pitched and wavering, that the man cracked. With wary demeanor, he waved him over, pointing to a patch of rooftop a little far but close enough for Tim to feel comfortable- or as comfortable as he’d get, in these circumstances.

As he approached, he could feel the man analyzing him. The little gasp when he stood by his side didn’t go unnoticed.

“You are… smaller than I imag’ned. Too small for a bat. My boy’s taller than you” he mused, likely to himself, but Tim grasped onto that bit of information and clutched at it with both hands, desperately.

“I’m short compared to my peers, so maybe I’m the same age as your son. How old is he?”, he asked, in his most conversational tone. Fear still had a grasp over both his lungs and heart.

Something in the man’s face shifted.

“He… he just turned fifteen.” Older than Tim, then. Ed continued, “He’s… ”, in a second, the sadness was replaced by pride, “he’s grown up p’tty well, if I say so m’self. A fine young man, that kid. He’ll go places.”

For a beat, Tim tried to imagine his own dad here. As much as he’d hate to see Jack in Mr Harrinson’s place, he couldn't help but wonder if he’d be talking about him the same way Ed spoke about his son.

He… didn’t think so. If on the verge of death, thoughts about his son would probably be the farthest from his dad’s mind.

“You sound like you love him very much. He’s a lucky guy” he said sincerely, a tendril of hopefulness still twisted around his stomach. His hands weren’t shaking any longer, finding solace in the fact that the man in front of him didn’t look like he was about to jump right that second.

Mr Harrinson’s face fell.

“Got served an’ unlucky hand, with an old man like me”, his eyes went back to the abyss, to the empty, poor litten streets below them. “Go ‘way, kid. Leave m’ be. Notta business what I do. Gotta do this f’r my kid.”

Fear came back, full force.

“I- Sorry, but I can’t help but think about your son”, he blurted out, the only bit of information he had about the man was his only tendril of hope. “Someone who loves his child as much as you seem to must be a good father. A father that… would be missed dearly, if lost so young.”

Mr Harrinson looked even more devastated. Tim was doing this all wrong, wasn’t he?

“There’s no other way t’ keep’im safe!'' he yelled, and for a minute Tim thought he had decided to jump then and there. Instead, he dropped to his knees, hands to his head, paper still clutched in one fist. “They’ll get to him if I don’t! Once I’m dead, they’ll just leave’im alone!”

Tim crouched next to him, tentative.

“Who is ‘they’, sir? Maybe I could help…”

Ed was already shaking his head.

“Nay, they said not to go to the bats. Kill my boy, they will, if I do. Seen them offing others for less, so I believe them.”

“Ah, but I’m too short to be a bat, am I not?” he smiled, wobbly at best but sincere. “Besides, who’s gonna tell them you spoke to me? I”, he gestured to his mask, “know how to keep a secret.”

He considered for a beat, before tired shoulders fell, defeated. He offered the slip of paper towards him, unseeing eyes on the street below.

Robin read the note carefully, noting the sloppy penmanship and cheap paper as well as the message itself.

“Mr Harrinson…”

“I know”, he whispered, “I know working for the Black Mask wasn’t my best idea. But m’boy needed to eat, and the landlord was gettin’ impatient. And now, for whatever reason, boss wants me dead. And if I make ‘im dirty his own hands, he’ll dirty ‘em twice and send me with my son for company to the other side. Felix is too young, and he’s good. Can’t let ‘im pay f’ his old man m’stakes, ya hear me?”

Tim thought his words over carefully.

“Mr Harrinson… I don’t think this comes from Black Mask himself”, for one, Blackie wasn’t one to avoid blood on his gloves, nor to send such a shitty note. The man lived for the drama, like most A-listers did, and he’d never forgo the aesthetic of an expensive peachment and beautifully worded threat. Also, if he wanted this man gone, he would have put a bullet in his head the second he clocked in; and if it were revenge he was after, he wouldn't have gotten a warning note but his son’s head sent to him instead.

He folded the paper and put it into one of his multiple pockets, free hand going to the man’s shoulder.

“I know Black Mask’s M.O, mister, and this is not it”, no need to spook him further by describing what it was, though. “Probably just a colleague who wanted your position, or has a grudge for whatever reason. And that, I can help you with. If you work with me on this one, we can both make sure Felix has his Dad making breakfast for him tomorrow morning, and all the days after that. After all”, he smiled, no longer uncertain now that he had firm ground to work with, “your son is going places, and he’ll have to be well fed to reach them, right?”

Mr Harrinson’s smile must have had magical properties, Tim thought. There was no other explanation for the way it returned his breath back to his body.

---.----

The next time he saw a jumper, a few months later, he was slightly more ready for it. Bruce had congratulated him on his work with Mr Harrinson, and the subsequent raid they could make on one of Black Mask’s warehouses thanks to the man’s information, but Tim hadn’t been satisfied until he had read every single mission report on the batcomputer about attempted suicides. And succeed ones, too. Need to know what went well and what didn’t, after all.

So when he saw the fifty-something woman crying on top of a tower in City Hall District, he didn’t almost-crash in his attempt to get there in time. He landed softly, making just enough noise to let her know she wasn’t alone, but careful to not startle her.

“It’s a little cold up here, Lady. If you’d like, I can walk you home?”, he tries for cheeky, despite the cold fear nesting in his stomach like a grumpy, spiteful bird.

The woman, sitting by the edge, turned her head to look at him. The movement called attention to her long, strawberry blonde hair, neatly braided, and her pretty diamond earrings. The face under her perfect make up was gaunt and pale, tear tracks cleaning paths of skin to his trained eye.

Despite him interrupting what probably were very private thoughts, she smiled at his approach, kind and polite. It didn’t reach her eyes, but the intent to put him at ease was generous enough.

“I may be a lady, but any adult worth their salt would insist on walking the young child home, instead of the opposite. Besides”, she patted the rooftop under her,” I live here, so it’s not a long walk at all.”

Tim stepped closer, carefully.

“May I sit?”

“I could use the company for a bit”, she accepted, head turning back to the city below.

They sat there for a few minutes in silence, before Tim’s soft voice broke it again.

“Is there anything I can do to help convince you not to do it? Please?”

The lady smiled. “You are a very sweet boy.”

“That’s… not an answer. Can I at least know why?”

“Won’t it torment you, in the future, if we speak now?”, she asked a question of her own, turning to face him again. Despite her words, there was nothing but kindness in those deep green eyes. “If you don’t know me, I’m just another one who jumped. If we talk, I’m afraid I might stay with you long after I’m gone. You are too young for that kind of weight.”

Tim swallowed.

“That’s easily solved, Miss;”, Dick’s rule of thumb; if unsure, always call a lady Miss before Mrs “don’t do it.”

She spared him a long, meaningful look, and he slumped over.

“Not my best, I know, but I’m kinda freaking out now?” She wasn’t like Mr Harrinson, no motive he could see, no strand to pull and unravel her pain. “Please, just… why?”

She patted one of the hands gripping his own knee. His other hand rushed over hers, sandwiching her cold, slim fingers between his gloved palms.

“There’s nothing left for me. I have a nice job, live in a pretty side of town, have friends, and still… it feels so empty. So… Meaningless. Why even bother?”

Tim chewed on her words silently. He was way out of his depth. A tangible, physical problem? He could solve those, no biggie.

Depression, though… that was a different giant to tackle. Was he even prepared enough to?

A strong gust of wind made the lady with braided hair shiver. Without thought, Tim unclasped his cape and draped it over her slim shoulders.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, head tilted like a curious woodland animal. Tim felt strongly protective of her, of this kind, sweet lady, who said she had it all, except the one thing that mattered to her.

“I’m used to it”, he shrugged. “This suit is very warm, but cold air often trickles down from the neckline and… well. Gigs of the job and all that.”

The lady tutted, frowning for the first time since Tim arrived.

“That won’t do, young man. You need a scarf. The nights will only get colder from now on.”

He shrugged again.

“I just… don’t have the time to buy one. And I had one, but… There’s these kids who often hang out by the park, and they were so cold, I just couldn't swing by and ignore them. So I gave them my scarf to share between them. I’m just kinda bummed that I don’t have more to make sure they all stay warm.”

The braided haired lady hummed for a second.

“Well… I knit”, she started, carefully. “I don’t have children or grandchildren to give my final products to, so they’ll go to waste after I’m gone. If you’d take them out of my hands, you’ll do me a favor.”

Tim wanted to say no, unwilling to make this any easier for her, but the chance of getting her away from the edge was enough to quell his voice.

She went and came back within minutes, a big cardboard box balanced over her shaky arms. He rose to help her, meeting the woman halfway through the roof, a good distance away from the abyss.

“This red one would look good with your suit… oh, and the green one, to keep with the theme! Or maybe the yellow one… Shame pink would be such a bad fit for your colors, because that wool is the best I worked with…”

Tim’s hand carefully took said carf out and looked it over. There were about six others in the box.

“I could take this to those kids I mentioned before… It’d still not be enough for all, but more to share between them means less cold.”

She hummed again, looking at the unfinished projects on the bottom of the box.

“If… If you give me a few days…” she muttered. “I mean, I’m in no rush”, a hand vaguely gestured towards the rooftop’s edge. “I could spare a few days finishing those, and you could take them to these kids you spoke about… and maybe, I can help make a few children less cold with this silly hobby of mine.”

Elated beyond words, Tim nodded vigorously, waxing poetry about her work and about just how excited little Ellie would be with this soft, pretty pink scarf.

His patrol route could use a few detours, after all, if that meant keeping Braided Hair Lady away from her roof.

---.----

He was just returning from a late supply run when he bumped into The Cats.

It was in an alleyway, a block off from Mrs Eloise Denvarow (formerly known as Braided Hair Lady). The older woman had caved after three months knowing each other, of Tim passing by her apartment once every other night to pick up her baked goods or knitted masterpieces, to distribute between street kids and working girls, and told him her name. It was said in passing (“Stop with that ‘Lady’ thing, honey. It’s Eloise”), as if lacking importance, when in reality it meant the world to him. Sure, he’d already known, having run a background check on her the minute he came back to the cave after stopping her from jumping, but there was that implicit vow between them, that she wouldn't tell him her name and jump, wouldn’t make him carry its weight on his shoulders forever, so it was… it was a promise, on her end, a reassurance, and Tim wasn’t even embarrassed that he cried in her arms like a baby for ten minutes.

So here he was, a month after that, still riding that high, when the desperate call from below caught his attention.

There were two teens on the dirty ground, nested among cracked bottles and old newspapers. The girl was lying in the boy’s arms, with him screaming for help.

“Robin! Thank fuck!”, he almost sobs, arms visibly tightening around the girl. Tim wants to ask how he knew to call for him, and if the proximity to Mrs Denvarow’s place was luck or not.

But it wasn’t the time to ask.

The girl was pale, which only highlighted the bruises on her face. Someone with a big fist punched her. It doesn't seem likely, considering just how distraught the other kid is, but he checks his hands just in case; fortunately, too small for that kind of damage.

She’s also breathing erratically and, when he puts a gloved hand to her neck, he realizes just how crazy her pulse is.

Fear Toxin? Except Scarecrow is still in Arkham as far as he knows, and even if he had gotten away recently, he needs time to develop his precious chemicals. Joker’s Venom and Mad’s Hatter drugs don’t have quite this results, and Ivy doesn’t usually attack street girls just for kicks; they are also too far from her usual turf for her to be a viable suspect.

So, that leaves very few choices.

“Overdose?”, he ventures a guess, hand already fumbling through the pockets on his belt.

The other boy sobs harder, nodding while looking down at the girl in his arms. Tim gently takes the girl from him to position her straighter, to help her down the vial he finally found in his belt. It was supposed to help flush out any chemical in a few minutes, tops; they usually used it when a new type of Crazy Criminal Drug made its way to the streets and they didn’t have the time to properly prepare an antidote. It was strong, and vicious in its path to devoid the body of any and all external agents, which was why it wasn’t a preferred method; who’s to say the civilian in need of a flush isn’t in some important medicine? The Big Flush, as Dick calls it, lacked any kind of finesse or discrimination.

But it was their best shot right now, so there goes nothing.

There’s silence while they watch the girl’s progress. He doesn’t bother asking if he called for an ambulance; they are obviously minors, probably homeless, and even if the Wayne Foundation takes care of children’s hospital fees, they’d avoid it to keep themselves out of the foster system.

But then, the kid kept talking.

“I… I found her near Grant Park. I… I didn’t know what to do, so I dragged her here. She/” and then he breaks again, hands grasping one of hers, as if letting go meant he was giving up on her and he couldn't bear it.

“Grant Park is only five blocks away,” Tim thinks out loud, mind already a mile away “and Moench’s Row illicit night clinic is about the same distance from there as this place. Why did you bring her here?”

“She… Alley… Oh, her name’s Allison, by the way. And I’m Thomas. Tom.” Introductions, miraculously, seem to do the trick here and calm him down. “Nice to meetcha.”

Tim’s not deterred by his toothy grin, but he has to admit he’s kinda cute. Like, stray cat cute.

Huh. Alley, Tom, cat… Yeah, that checks.

“What happened with Allison?” he presses softly, one arm still keeping Alley up and against his chest, the other hand on her pulse point, taking note of the way the heartbeat seems to be stabilizing. The puking fest was gonna start soon.

“She… It was on purpose.” Tom confesses, eyes going clouded for a while. “She tries to not be home, yknow? I met her in kindergarten, and even then she’d try to hide behind the teacher’s desk in hopes they’d forget about her and close the building with her inside. Anyway, we pretty much live on the streets these days, and Alley… she’s very depressed. I convinced her to see someone a while ago, even stol/ I mean, earned the money for it myself”, he’s quick to correct, eyes glancing up to see if he was smooth enough to cover it; which he wasn’t, but Tim was in favor of letting that small one go, “and they gave her a prescription for antidepressants. She’s been kicking it down the road, but she’s gotten a lot worse and I wouldn't lay off her case about it, so she sneaked back home to get some money from her folks to pay for it.”

By the way the kid looks at her bruised face with unmeasurable guilt, Tim knows she didn’t go unnoticed.

“And… I don’t know. We were supposed to meet up by the Commerce Street Highway, but she was late, so I walked around for a bit and… I saw her there, on a bench. She was/ she was still conscious then, and she told me… she said ‘these aren’t what the doc gave me, but they took the pain away all the same’.” Again, Tom chokes on his own emotions. If he had any free hands, he’d try to put one on his shoulder for comfort. “I don’t even know what she took, or where did she get it from!”

Tim has heard whispers of loan sharks and drug dealres camping toghter by the Fashion Distric, just north of Grant Park, so he can make an informed guess as to how that happened. Also, he now knows what he’ll do the rest of the night, once these kids are safe.

When Tom has gotten a grasp of himself, he pushes again.

“So, why did you bring her here?”

He shrugs, a bit abashed.

“Well… I mean, everyone knows about how Mrs Denvarow is the one giving clothes and food away, and that you help her distribute it. Well, not everyone, but… you know, the street kids. We flagged her building with a yellow skull and everything.”

A yellow skull grafitti, Tim’s mind translates, is the street equivalent of a ‘don’t fuck with this place’ sing. A sort of protective sigil. He wonders how he missed it.

“And… This is kind of your thing, right? So I figured you’d be better prepared to deal with it than some overworked clinic that might even not have enough free equipment to help us. Good think I did, too” he gestures at his friend, whose face is now looking flushed; a sign both of growing health, and of the upcoming puke. Tim’s quick to turn her so her back is to his chest, head tilted down just in case.

As if rehearsed, Alley chose that exact second to empty the contents of her now flushed stomach. Tim would need a sample of that, to catch the responsible dealer.

Tom held her hair away from her face while Tim kept her steady, and she blinked bearily at them after it was done, still not completely lucid but a world away from the girl she was ten minutes ago.

“She’ll still need a hospital.'' Tim informs Tom sternly. The boy had taken his friend in his arms again, softly rubbing her back to help with the uncomfortable ache leftover after puking your guts out. “The Moench’s Row clinic should be able to help with any side effect, but she’s safe for now.”

He nods, thanks Tim again and again and politely refuses his help to take her to the clinic. They part ways, both parties probably thinking this would be the last time they saw each other.

Still, their situation sticks with Tim during the rest of his patrol, and he decides to stop by the clinic, just to check on them. His knuckles still ache from the absolute beating he delivered to the ones who gave Alley the money and sold her the drugs, so he’s in better spirits and hopes to spread it to the kids.

Alley is awake when he visits, and her shy, little smile is enough for the rage inside of Tim to die down. The bad guys dealt with, the civilians safe, everything in its proper place.

He sleeps a bit better that night.

---.----

He almost doesn’t see him.

Actually, he probably wouldn't have, deeply lost into his own head, had the guy been anything other than a redhead. That exact shade of orangy-brown auburn, that he would have to pick up from his workbench at Titan’s tower after Bart had decided to ‘keep him company’ during his all-nighters.

It was ironic, how now he would give anything in the world to have those same strands of hair fucking up his experiments, if only for the impish, ‘please-don’t-kill-me-I’m-an-angel’ smile he would receive in exchange.

“Hey”, he greets, landing softly at the man’s right, sitting a few feet away from him, too tired to even stand up on common ground. “What’s happening?”

He shouldn’t be doing this. He really, really shouldn’t. His own mental health was less than stellar, and even thinking about it made him feel worse. He didn’t deserve to feel bad, not when civilians were in the hospital after his latest fuck up, Cass was missing, Cassie barely hanging in there, the family a mess with Damian’s lovely introduction, and… well. Every other person he knew…

Point being, there must be someone else, in a better inner place, that could speak to this guy. But since no one seemed to be patrolling this route, Tim could only hope to stall him long enough for a more capable vigilante to show up.

The guy looks startled, then angry. He has green eyes, he notices, under the glasses. Not sure why that sticks to him.

“What are you doing here? You’re not going to try to stop me, are you? You’re not going to swing down and catch me in mid air or something, are you?”

He seems defensive, but Tim notices a bit of hesitancy. He has worked with less.

(He wishes he had more energy to do more with what little he has)

“No. If I did, what’s to stop you from doing it again later, or tomorrow? I can’t be with you every second. If you want to do this, you are going to, no matter how much I don’t want you to. And I don’t want you to, just so we are clear.”

The guy still looks suspicious, but he hasn’t taken that last step forward, so… a win?

“I just needed to sit down for a minute. ‘been thinking about all the ways I’ve screwed up lately, and…”

Auburn-hair deflates a little, turning away from Tim to examine the night sky. “Well, that makes two of us.”

The bat signal lights up the night. His newfound companion looks at it, then him. “Do you need to get that?”

“Nah. Batman will, and if he needs help he’ll call me.” Tim shrugs. He needs a coffee-power-up. He needs to sleep. He needs for his loved ones to not be dead.

He needs to see if there’s anything he can do for this guy.

“So, do you want to tell me why you’re doing this? So someone can go to your family and friends to let them know?”

After all, if it was him who did it (and… wasn’t that food for thought?), he’d like Bruce and Dick to know why. To not… to not blame themselves.

Redhead looks annoyed again. Uh. A short fuse, this one.

“Don’t try any psychology, or try to make me feel guilty about hurting anyone… this isn't about anyone but me.”

He shouldn’t say it, but… “That’s pretty naive, but whatever. Tell me anyway.” He smirks a bit, then “Unless you’re in a hurry or something.”

He hears the guy (he really should ask his name) as he tells his story. A cold, clinical part of his mind recognizes the symptoms described almost unconsciously by the guy as depression. He would know, after all. The other part of him, the part that made him Robin, that made him human, discarded the label; there was much more to this guy than his illness, and he would treat him like it.

“So here I am,” he finishes, now sitting side by side with Tim, both their legs hanging above the bustling city. “Now’s when you tell me how stupid this is. That other people have much bigger problems, there’s hunger and war, and I’m weak because my problems are nothing next to stuff like that.”

Tim thinks of a father, desperately thinking his death would save his son’s life, when in fact it would have only made it worse. He thinks of a woman, so full of love and warmth, looking into the abyss and feeling empty inside. He thinks of a couple of kids, one hanging to life with nails and teeth, the other hanging to her just as fiercely.

He thinks about himself. About looking at a future version of himself, hating what he sees, and deciding to drown the bud before it can even flower. He thinks of sickly green water, of cloning equipment in a laboratory, of a phone falling to the ground after delivering him with more bad news.

He’s still in a bad place, still probably not the most capable person to be doing this, but a part of him is sure this is the right answer. The only answer.

“No. Your problems are worse than anyone else’s, because they are yours. I’ve... felt bad like you have, and some pretty bad things have happened to me.”

Red hair looks as tired as Tim feels, so it’s a surprise that he has enough energy to glance at him worriedly, hand stretching a bit in his direction in a half-formed attempt to comfort.

“You guys make it look so easy, swinging around, having fun… Things get bad for you, too?”

Tim looks down, and smiles. It’s a sad, bitter thing. He thinks about parents lost before ever connecting to them, about a girlfriend going away, a sister lost to the madness of their lives, about two best friends gone, one even dying in his arms.

He gives no details. Doesn’t talk about it all, just shares a little bit of himself. It’s only fair, after hearing about this guy’s demons. Misery loves company, doesn’t it?

“So what do you do? How do you deal with it?” the guy asks when he’s done, looking at Tim by the corner of his not-very-dry eyes.

Tim forces himself to remember. “One of the things I’ve learned is that it gets bad for everyone sometimes, Superman, Batman… everyone. I remember that I’m not alone, that things do get better. Sometimes on their own, most times when you work at them. And when I have trouble remembering those things, I find people to talk to.”

Most of those were dead, but Tim is hit with the epiphany that not all of them are. He still has people. He still…

“And you’ve got people like that? That you can talk to?” asks the guy, tone both worried and hopeful. Tim stands up, does his best to look calm.

“Yeah. Your folks, and old friend, even a trained counselor you’ve never met before… someone who has a totally different perspective because they’re not as close to your problems as you are. Maybe they give you advice, and that’s great… or maybe they just listen. Sometimes, that’s all you need. Anyway, that’s how I deal with it when things suck. And it works. Want to come down from there and give it a try?”

The guy gets back to his feet, as Tim watches from behind. Having been in this situation before, the fear grabbing a hold of him isn’t new, but it's different. He thinks he's too worn down. It takes the edge off of any emotion.

Except hope. Hope still hurts like a sharp knife when it’s snatched away. He prays it won’t be, right now.

Green eyes (Jason- that’s who they reminded him of) look down, deep in thought. Then he turns, smiles at Tim. There’s hope in him too.

“Yeah, why not?”

They get down together. He gives him a few numbers and they have breakfast together. The guy promises to call his English teacher, at least. Tim promises himself to call his brother.

At least, he still has Dick.

---.----

He’s been putting off doing his rounds since he came back, he knows. But…

It changed him, a bit. Going around the world, dealing with his grief while staying on his toes, ready to break down one second and having to field off attacks from all sides the next, with the Demon’s honeyed whispers echoing in his ear and mind.

He’ll never tell anyone, just how tempting it had been. How much he had wanted to reach for that offered hand. To lay his head on someone’s shoulder and let the responsibility bleed from his.

Tim will never tell anyone, but he’ll always know. And it’ll always make him hate himself a little bit more.

So, he’s different now. And he’s scared- that the people he gave hope to, that he talked with, that he could never stop thinking about, even halfway across the world- that they won’t like this new, worn down him.

That Mr Harrinson the Good Father, Braided Hair Lady and her sweaters, the inseparable Stray Cats, the girl with the bright yellow cardigan, the kid with the scarred wrists, the woman with beautiful star-like freckles that she’ll hopefully pass on to her baby, the gentle giant man with calloused hands, the petite but fierce young teen with defiant eyes and dead name, the soft spoken girl with the loudest laugh, auburn-haired boy and his hopeful and sympathetic green eyes… and so, so many more. They all knew him, maybe not at his best, but certainly better than now. The boy that kept them from jumping had been a bright, magical Robin. The teen that came back to their city was dark, weary Red Robin. It felt kinda like he had cheated them, returning this broken version of himself to their doorsteps.

But he had to go check on all of them. Even if Cass (and it was such a relief, that even after he lost everything else, the return of his sister could at least be a speck of light in the mist of misery surrounding him) had promised to do so, there were so many of them… and she couldn't possibly remember everyone, all the time. And if anyone had fallen through the gaps… if anyone had stood on a rooftop, waiting for their Robin to save them, only to think ‘nobody cares’ as he didn’t show up…

Tim gets sick only thinking about it. If it did happen, then he needs to know. He has to carry their names with him, that’s the least he can do for failing them.

So he’ll go check on them… anytime now. Soon. The moment he gathers enough energy to climb back to his feet and get his grapple hook out.

...The city looks full of life, beneath him. Like it feels the return of its Knight. The end of the internal quarrel among it’s vigilantes, that almost tore it all apart. The relief in Nightwing, the hesitant peace in Red Hood, the mellowing of Robin.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the worst ways)

Maybe it also feels Red Robin’s emptiness. Maybe that’s why it's so lively down there, like the ground is calling to him, just as it did when Ra’s broke the window with his body.

He thinks... he won’t have to check on anyone, if he jumps. And that way, there will be no name to carry with him to his grave.

“Robin!”

“Stop!”

“Don’t do it, please!”

He startles. Hadn’t even noticed when he got to his feet, nor that one of them was hanging over the abyss. The fact that he wasn’t alone on that rooftop any longer hadn’t even breached his usually perfect spatial awareness.

They didn’t call for him, but the voices sounded distraught, they were close, and he was a former Robin, so he turned around, tired, but with obedience and service too ingrained in him to consider denying help to whoever it was.

It turned out, he wouldn't need to go make his rounds any longer. His rounds had come to him.

There were… too many people on this roof. It was way too crowded.

“Robin!”

It was one voice now, not a mixture of them, so he could identify the one yelling his former alias. Allison broke from the mob of people (and there were more still, filling in from the open rooftop door, like a never-ending stream…) to run to him, looking like she might have just jumped into his arms, if not for Tom clutching her hoodie to stop her a few feet from him. Good move, considering he was still balancing precariously on the edge.

“Alleycat?” he whispered, a little blown. She looked so different (magenta looked amazing on the tips of her hair, and she totally pulled off that lip piercing), but he’d recognize those eyes anywhere. He’d been so relieved, when she first opened them after that dangerous overdose.

“We were so fucking worried, dude”, came from Tomcat just behind her, still gripping her hoodie (still keeping her safe; some things never change).

“I…”

“Where were you?” Maddie, not longer yellow but still wearing a cute cardigan, stepped up too.

“I’m… I’m not Robin”, he blurts out. They… knew it was him? It… like, obviously there was a new Robin, Damian was (still, but probably not for much longer) smaller than him, but to immediately know that he was…

“Yeah, no shit. I’d know that long hair and noodle limbs of yours anywhere, kid. Known you too long to be fooled. And the new kid’s really trigger happy with that lon’nife of his... You’re still the Robin I prefer, and fuck if I understand the name passing you heroes do” Mr Harrinson spoke from the back of the crowd, one hand clutching his kid’s shoulder, the other arm around…

“Braided Hair Lady?”

Eloise smiles at him, soft and warm as ever, a little shy when his eyes go to the arm hugging her close and back to her. He recognizes some of her handmade scarfs around the necks of plenty of people on the roof.

“I… wasn’t aware you all knew each other.”

A petite young teen steps forward, walking until they were shoulder-to-shoulder with the Strays.

“Most of us met through the app, and then introduced the others. There’s more, of course, but not everyone could meet here. Samantha’s baby was born just two months ago, so she chose to stay home, but we promised her pictures, so you’ll have to say cheese soon birdboy. Also, I found my name. I’m Cal.”

Allison’s smile broadened and she sneaked an arm around Cal’s waist.

“They are the new Straycat. Calico cat’s are the cutest shit ever, aren’t they?”

Well… Having someone as badass as Cal watching Tom and Alley’s back would sure make Tim feel a lot better about both kids being out in the streets.

Were they still on the streets? He’d need to find out and fix that, soon.

Then it hit him. “What app?”

Auburn-hair smiled from his place, at the front of the crowd just behind the Cats.

“Felix over there,” he pointed over his shoulder at Mr Harrinson’s son, who smiled shyly at Tim, eyes shining in gratitude and admiration like they always did when Tim did his rounds and checked on his dad, “defended you in a GothamHeroes forum once. Some bratty douchebag was complaining about you landing over his car or something and this kid went for his fucking troath.”

“I was in that chat too,” spoke Tom, smiling a little too savagely for a kid that sweet. “He tore the idiot to shreds, speaking about how you saved his dad’s life and took it upon yourself to make sure he was still okay even weeks after you met. I mentioned how you saved Alley and Mrs Denvarow, we exchanged numbers… then we met Cal during one of our rounds handing out Mrs D’s scarfs and food. They were weary of everyone else, but trusted us because they heard you talk about the clothes and baked goods... And Cal’s friend Gina worked with Samantha on the streets and told them about her story...”

“Soon, it seemed like people personally saved by you were just… popping out of the snow like daisies” Blair laughed, and it was still the loudest, brightest noise. The night seemed a little clearer, the air a little fresher for it. “Felix made his own private chat and added us, and we added everyone else we knew… The word went around about it, and more and more people joined in…”

“It’s really a wonder how you had any time to fight crime, seeing how often you were apparently comforting jumpers on the roofs” Ailbert, still as gigantic and gentle as always, raised a hand from the middle of the group. He had a little girl on his shoulders, probably the baby niece he had taken in after his sister’s death.

“Then the new kid appeared and Gotham went to hell on a basket, and no one saw you around any longer”, Elijah, wrists no more scarred than the last time he saw him, his arm tangled with Maddie’s, went on. “We were… well, we were a bit confused.”

“Speak for yourself, Cal jumped Red Hood one night, held him at knife point and demanded to know what the fuck happened to our Robin. We were like, zero chill.”

“Sorry, they did what?” Tim was definitely in the twilight zone now.

“No thoughts, head empty, only murder”

...Tim needed to give Jason a quick call. Also sign Cal up for anger management. And probably, judging by the way both Alley and Tom were looking at them, get one of the adults to give them the talk.

Mrs Eloise smiled at him, and like always it served to calm his nerves. That woman was a different kind of magic than Alfred, but magic indeed. “Anyway, dear, what matters is that we were worried about you. And then this incredible young man, Aaron,” she waved at him, and he winked one of his green eyes in response, “suggested we kept in closer contact with one another, so anyone who spotted you could inform the others.”

Aaron shrugged, his auburn mane of hair bobbing with the movement. “It just seemed like it’d be easier to have an alarm set up, since messaging everyone would take so long… and then someone suggested making a map of Gotham so we could have clearer routes for the kids handing out Mrs Denvarow’s stuff… and someone wanted a shared blackboard to write theories on where the fuck you were with others… and a few demanded a space to share photos, possible sightings or old selfies with you… It kinda spiralled and I thought it’d be less of a chaotic mess if I made an app that could do all of that, instead of all of us using multiple apps for the different fixtures everyone asked for… Since this is Gotham, we also added some Rouge Alarm for whenever a criminal was set loose. It helped keep us safe, and if we knew when crime was happening, we could pay attention to which heroes answered the call…”

“And then, you fought that firefly guy the other day”, Felix said, still by his dad’s side, still looking as awed as ever when looking at tim. “I was in the crowd, and I recognized you within a minute.”

“I don’t really understand technology that well, and the group chat was such a mess that day” Ailbert lamented, but he was still smiling. They all were.

That hit Tim then, hard.

They all looked so happy to see him. To have him back. They had been waiting for him to be back, banded together to make sure they’d all know when he did.

“You looked so sad the last time we saw you” Blair added softly, sadly. “And… when you saved Aaron, you told him about such sad things…”

Elijah winced “And I heard the Midnighter fell from Wayne Tower a few weeks ago, but then he was never seen around again, and your suit looks kinda similar, so that was probably really you… and, that fall…”

“We were very worried” repeated Eloise, but her eyes didn’t lose their warmth. “But you’re back now, and we can keep track of you and each other now, so it’s all good. It’s wonderful to have you back, love.”

This was an out of body experience.

Something must have shown on his face, because Cal snorted.

“We adore you, you dumbass. You are our hero.”

Alley smiled. “You are our Robin.”

Tim fell into her arms, and away from the roof’s edge. The rest of the crowd was upon them in seconds, all eager to pat his back or joke about the cowl hiding his hair from their hands.

He met eyes with Aaron, over Alley’s shoulder. He looked like the hope Tim had helped plant in his heart all those months ago had flowered, and the petals filled his heart.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the best ways)

“You should download the app too, so you always have someone to talk to. Look it up. It’s called BirdWatchers, because we’ll always look up and out for you. Because when we wanted to jump, you lended us your wings to fly instead.”

It was like this fucker wanted Tim to cry.

“Welcome home, Red Robin.”

#My writing #Tim drake #batman fanfic #red robin #trigger warning:#depression #suicide attempts #discussion of suicide #overdose #mental illness #hurt comfort #Tim doing the comfort and being the hurt #until he gets the comfort #happy ending #wholesome #I swear the tags are scary but it IS wholesome #Tim drake centric #my writting

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srose-foxfire · 3 years

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Damirae Week 2021 - Day 3

A/N: Happy Damirae Canon Anniversary Day!!!

Whoo, day 3 is upon us! I hope you don't mind this prompt being particularly longer than my last two, I couldn't get myself to ‘cut-off’ some parts since I want to keep this AU storyline with the Week’s prompts. Some of the next prompts will be long as well to fit everything that needs to stay in the AU to make it run smoothly. Enjoy and see you all tomorrow for Day 4! ~~ Simona

“Joyfulness before Despair” Day 3: Holidays

It been years since the castle had ever felt alive. The end of the year celebrations had arrived at the castle. Raven busied herself to get the parlor ready to spend the New Year’s Eve with Damian and his family. After her little incident two months ago, Damian seemed to have changed and Raven had done the same. Since he has revealed himself to be a beast, Damian allowed her to venture outside the castle, and the spirits, which turned out to be Damian’s family were allowed to talk with her and not keep distance.

Dick Grayson, the eldest of all of them had explained to her what happened. Centuries ago, when Bruce had just appointed his youngest son; Damian would be the one to take his throne as the next king. A witch came to their door. Damian who had been studying and groomed by Bruce allowed the witch to rest in their castle as an honored guest. The witch thanked him and gave Damian her blessing, it wasn’t uncommon to allow visitors to take refuge in the Wayne Castle. Though the witch had another agenda, when everyone had retired to their chambers, the witch entered Prince Damian’s room, she was to slay him in his sleep. The witch didn’t count that the young prince was a skilled swordsman and so Damian easily bested her. Furious that she failed, she shrieked and announced she had been hired to bring the prince and his kingdom to ruin. Words of an ancient language spouted from her old weary lips. She cast a curse on Damian and his family. His half-siblings became spirits, binding their souls to reside forever inside the castle. As for Damian, she cursed him into a beastly form so that whoever laid eyes on him would be repulsed.

After Dick finished telling of their tale – he left out what had happened to Bruce - Raven now understood why Damian had been cold towards her. He had allowed himself to be open to a stranger, which then cost him his family’s life and his kingdom. Though she could never recall of ever hearing of the Kingdom of Gotham. Dick explained that it was a mystery as well, King Bruce Wayne was loved by many and an ally to the neighboring kingdoms. They could not understand why their people never came to their castle looking for the royal family after they been cursed.

Just then Jason, Stephanie, Cassie, Kori, and Tim came into the parlor with boxes filled with assorted candles and some golden decorations.

“I can’t believe we are doing this.” Jason grumbled as he set the old box down. It fascinated Raven to see them able to handle physical objects even if they had all a ghost-like form. Tim, who considered himself quite a scholar, believed the witch may had not said her curse properly. If they put their minds to it, they could lift and carry anything if they so wished. They could even open and close doors, though floating through it was easiest.

Stephanie scoffed and placed her hands on her hips, “Seriously Jason? Have some holiday spirit, we haven’t done this in such a long time. I could almost recall when the whole castle smelled of cinnamon and spice, gosh how I miss Alfred’s cooking.”

Having heard the name for the first time, Raven couldn’t help but ask, “whose Alfred?”

Everyone became stilled and remained silent. Raven could sense that the mention of Alfred’s name had sadden everyone. Though these siblings jested and were always carrying a smile, Raven could always sense they were hiding their sadness. She could only imagine what the witch’s curse had truly taken from them. They all been so kind to her, Raven wished she could do something in return.

“A dear friend.”

Everyone turned their heads towards the doors, Dick was standing there with a silver platter, filled with assorted biscuits and brewing hot tea. He too seemed to be saddened at the mention of their friend’s name.

Raven didn’t know what to do to lively their moods, just then Jason who had busied himself to finish setting the last candles over the fireplace, cleared his throat, “I thought you were supposed to help Damian with the food?”

Shaking his head, Dick tilted hid head to the side and gave his brother a lopsided grin, “I thought I bring Raven some snacks she’s our guest-”

“Demon Spawn kicked you out, didn’t he?” Tim added while he fixed a small round table and prepared two seating arrangements. Raven couldn’t stifle a small giggle at the mention of Damian’s pet name.

“He did.” Dick grumbled.

Raven raised a brow at him. “Are you not allowed in the kitchen.”

Jason walked over and grabbed the silver tray from Dick, he then turns his gaze towards Raven. “After we were cursed, we tried helping out around the castle as much as we could, then someone had to set the kitchen on fire one morning.”

Dick was beyond annoyed and gave out a heavy sigh, signaling he was tired of being reminded of his faults. “What? I was trying to be a good older brother and prepare Damian a tasty breakfast.”

After placing the silver tray on the round-coffee table, Jason scoffed at Dick’s remark. “Tasty? You were practically cooking lumps of coal! If the curse wasn’t enough, Damian would also have to endure your horrible cooking!”

The two brothers continue to bicker, while their sisters went to complain to Tim, asking him to stop the feud. No one had noticed that Raven had left the room. She wanted to feel useful and believed she could lend Damian a hand in the kitchen. Walking down one hallway, Raven noticed the amount of work the Wayne family had put to get the castle ready for their little festivity. A week before the end of the New Year, everyone had pinched in and clean the castle from top to bottom. There were no more spiderwebs on every crevice, the walls that only appeared to held darkness were now illuminated by candlelight. Everything had been dusted off, revealing beautiful golden tapestries, vases, and marble statues of legends. The castle was truly brimming with light and happiness.

When she finally arrived at the kitchen, Raven cautiously entered. She peeked from behind the large wooden door and saw Damian moving some pans over a small fire. He looked almost as he was in his own small word. A world where only he existed. There were still things Raven wanted to speak to him about but didn’t know if she was allowed to ask.

“May I come in?”

Damian quickly turn around and his eye widen for just a moment. “Hello.” He nodded and turned around and tossed some ingredients in the air. “I apologize for the delay; I’m getting our dinner ready.”

“Let me help, just tell me what to do.”

“Very well.” Damian gave her a small yet gentle smile, he then pointed at some dough that need to be rolled out and portion to make garlic bread. They worked in silence, but every once in a while, Raven would catch herself side glancing and just admire Damian. For being a great and large beast, he was very meticulous with his work. He grabbed a kitchen knife and perfectly thinly sliced some basil leaves. Which he then tossed into a pan that seemed to have crushed tomatoes and ground beef.

“That smells delicious.”

“I hope you enjoy it, it’s a dish an old friend would prepare every year. Beef Ragu.” Damian said proudly as he grabbed a small tasting spoon and handed it to Raven to taste.

“This friend wouldn’t happen to be Alfred?” Why… why did she allowed her mouth to run off on itself? Raven hated herself for letting the name slip from her lips.

“Yes, he is.” Damian added rather nonchalantly. He continues to stir the beef ragu, “Alfred Pennyworth was my father’s royal advisor. He been a friend to the Wayne family since before my father was born. He acted like a grandfather to me, once I came to live with my father.”

“Can I ask, what happen to him… and to your father?”

“The curse affected them differently… they were turned into stone. We don’t know if their alive or gone.” Raven could notice that this hurt Damian greatly, she saw that he was trying so hard to fight off his tears. All she could do in that moment for him was wrapping her arms from behind him.

Once dinner was prepared, Damian and Raven were seated in the small round table in the parlor, they ate in silence. Raven grimaced having his siblings just lounging in the parlor and not have a bite to eat. Kori explained that they never got hungry. They could however smell the food and that was enough for them. After dinner, Dick started rambling off some nonsense and twirled around the room. Tim whispered into Raven’s ears that Dick enjoyed acting like the court jester. Kori left the room and came with assorted instruments in her hands, she gave one to each of her future siblings-in-laws and everyone started to play off-key. Damian couldn’t help but grumble and sighed heavily in his seat as he tried very hard to hide in his black cape. Raven clapped and giggled as everyone gracefully floated around the room.

~~~~~

As the festivities continued to roar inside the castle, outside was slender-hungry harpy; her feathers a dark shade of bloody red, and her body a pale ghostly white. She silently watched the cursed Wayne family frilly and dance around the fireplace with an unexpected guest. She huffed an annoyed grunt and flew off into the dark night. She flew over treetops, meadows, and valleys; until she reached the side of a long lonely mountain. There near the top of it peak was a dark cave, she screeched and flew into it. Darkness enveloped her for a few moments, then green boiling water, erupted from an old black rusty cauldron. The harpy landed next to it, tucking her winged arms to her sides.

“Show us what you found, my pet.”

From the shadows two figures emerge. The old witch that cursed the royal Wayne family and a second fellow who shielded his face with a black and orange mask. The harpy screeched and plucked one of it feathers out, placing it the cauldron. The green waters disintegrated the feather, like it fallen in a pot of acid, and then it started to swirl revealing an image in it waters. It was of the royal family prancing and laughing with one another. Then at the corner of the room stands a raven-haired maiden who reaches for the paws of the cursed prince and bring him to stand next to her. She smiles at him and urges him to dance with her. They move to the off-key music and laugh all together. The witch curses under her breath.

The masked man, the one who employed for her services centuries ago, scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t tell me if the boy falls in love then the curse will be lifted.”

Just like her harpy, the witch screeches angrily, and points her boney-old finger towards the man beside her. “You peg me for a fool? Love is a strange power, but I made sure none of my curses to ever be lifted by ‘true love’s kiss’ or ‘sacrificing oneself for love’. No this is worse, that girl, she holds magic of her own. She is the daughter of a demon and of a sorceress from Azarath. Their magic is far greater than any witch’s enchantment, she could break the curse.”

“Well then, this changes things.” The man said as he hovers over the boiling cauldron and inspected the maiden more closely. She was very beautiful, he thought to himself.

“I can have my harpy go kill-”

“No. Don’t harm the girl. I find her to be quite interesting. Daughter of a demon, you say? Well now, wouldn’t that make for a most pleasant queen to be by my side?”

#damirae week 2021 #day 3 #prompt holidays #damirae #beauty and the beast au #be our guest #Damian Wayne #dc damian #raven roth #dc raven #raven and damian #batfamily

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lulaypp · 3 years

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Alternate Ending to Chains

A/N: Originally, this was supposed to be the ending but I accidentally hurt Jason a little too much in one of my editing rounds and I be like...... hmmmm..... this might not go. But I adore this ending so here you go.

(Warnings for implied/referenced torture, mentions of injuries and hypothermia.)

Breathing was almost impossible as he felt a deeper darkness start to consume his mind. He probably should fight it but he was too tired and cold and... scared. Everything was numb and hurting. And dark. All encompassing darkness.

There was a sudden lace of agony firing down his back and shoulders as he let out a ragged, breathless scream. He was forcibly pressed upright against something as he struggled to curl in against the pain and cold, a moan falling past his lips. A soft warmth was wrapped around him as he vaguely felt a soft rumble by his head. It was... comfortable. And he found himself burrowing further into it with a soft whimpered whine. It was an escape from the presistent pain and cold. And he felt so tired that he could fall asleep. Something told him that he was safe now. That the danger was gone, whatever it was. He couldn't remember. Didn't really care.

Something touched his cheek and he flinched, causing his body to protest. His mind was dragged out of the sinking darkness as sounds registered in his head. Voices. Words. He wasn't sure if they were directed to him; he recalled people talking about him a lot, and not always tohim, discussions on how to best hurt him. An intimidation tactic, he's aware, but it had been unnerving.

It was when the thing he was leaning on rumbled again, did he noticed that it was a person. Panic seeped in again as he realised that an arm was holding him tight and secured. But he was stuck alone somewhere wasn't he? A coffin? No, it was a cold, dark box, freezing and blinding him. But it wasn't cold anymore, soothing warmth flowing from his right.

He opened his eyes to blurry shapes everywhere, a hazed fog obstructing his sight. He attempted to push away from whoever it was holding him, but was held tight and he whimpered when his struggles shifted his broken bones. He was suddenly aware of the pain coming from everywhere, dousing him in a fire of agony. He gasped as he tried to-

"-on! Hood!" His hand was snatched and he wanted to pull away but there were soft strokes across his aching fingers. "You're okay. Listen to me! You're going to hurt yourself. Please calm down. It's alright."

He shifted to drag himself away but a ragged scream tore through him as his back grated against something, lighting up thousands of fires, breaths coming up in hitched gasps and half-sobs. Fear started to mix with his panicked desperation and he was hurt and confused and scared and-

Something soft was pressed into his hair, followed by gentle strokes. There was the rumble from his right again, "Hood, you're safe. We found you, you're safe, alright? Shh... You're okay."

The fingers rubbing his knuckles stopped before tucking his arm into his chest and traling up to his throbbing jaw, softly touching. "You're alright, Little Wing. But you need to stop moving before you hurt yourself any further." It was followed by a whispered, "Can he- Can he hear us, B? I'm not sure if he sees us."

"Lad?"

Lad... Jaylad... Little Wing... His breath caught. They're- They're here? "Bru-" he coughed, trembling, a whine slipping out his throat as agony raged through him.

"Shh... You're hurt-"

Uncontrolable relief washed through him. "...Bruce? ...Dick?" He tried to look for them but sight was still hazed and he couldn't see them. Was he hallucinating? Dreaming? He moaned as hacks of coughs shook him again.

"Don't talk, Lad."

"You're hurt and you're going to aggravate your injuries."

He was hallucinating. Or was he not? Was this real? He frantically threw his gaze around, trying to find anything. The only things he could see were blurry blobs of colours. He couldn't even tell where he was. But there was light and that had to mean he was no longer trapped, right?

"I'm here, okay. We're here." A moving fuzzy blackness. Pointed ears. Batman.

"We've got you, Little Wing." He tried to follow the voice and saw blue against black. Nightwing.

His breath hitched as another sob bubbled up. Panic and desperation dissipated as the coursing agony crashed back into him in full force. He curled into Bruce's chest, shivering. Something was wrapped tighter around him.

"Hey hey. It's alright." The fingers resting against his jaw rubbed gently underneath his eye.

"...C-cold..." he moaned. "...Hurts..."

"I'm sorry." Another warm kiss was pressed onto his forehead and he leaned into it. "We're going to bring you back to the Cave but I will need to move you first, alright? It may hurt."

Jason whimpered but nodded tiredly. His vision went white as he was lifted, a choked scream leaving him. He screwed his eyes shut and held back the urge to scramble away. A wave of nausea brought bile up his throat but he forced it down. He tried to keep his ragged, wheezing breaths even and stayed as still as he could against the fiery agony, knowing that every movement would make it worse. It wasn't long before everything fell back into a throbbing lulled haze. Ingrained memory helped him find the crook of Bruce's neck and he buried his forehead into it, finding warmth.

"Hood? Jay?"

Jason blinked away the fog over his mind, making a sound of acknowledgement.

"I'm going to lower you into the car." This might hurt.

He bit his lip and nodded. He took a deep agonising breath through the jolting pain slicing up his leg, rattling his chest. By the time his mind cleared, he was leaning against something- someone, who was letting out a whispered string of curses. His brows furrowed as he tried to blink his vision back to clarity and attempted to turn to see who it was but was stopped by fingers brushing his forehead.

"Try to not move, Jay." Dick. It was Dick who gingerly had an arm around him and a hand sweeping bangs and radiating warmth. Wonderful soft warmth. His brother let out a small laugh. "As much as I would love a cuddle, I'm afraid you shouldn't. There are... too many injuries."

Jason did not want a cuddle, he hatedcuddling, what more with Dick. He wanted warmth and the stroking fingers in his hair to come back and the pain to go away and... maybe... a hug. He tried to voice it but could only manage a tired moan.

Dick pressed a kiss into his hair and some small part of him cheered when a hand carded through as well. He leaned into the touch, feeling his eyes sliding close.

"Jason, stay awake, alright?" A hand took his, softly rubbing the broken knuckles.

He groaned, turning his head to bury into Dick's shoulder. It wasn't really comfortable- why was Dick so short?- but it was nice nevertheless.

"Hypothermia," Dick told. "I can talk if you want. Will that keep you up?"

Jason attempted a shrug but apparently he didn't have the energy to do so. His throat felt too dry and sore. "Water..."

"Hold on." There was some scuffling before something was press to his lips and his head was gently eased back. "Carefully and slowly."

The little water that trickled in was warm and probably the best thing he had ever tasted in his entire two lives, almost leaving him lightheaded. Dick only allowed two small sips before pulling away, and Jason couldn't help the whine that left him.

"Shh... It's okay, Jay." He knew that. He just wanted water. "We cannot be sure of your condition until we get back and shouldn't risk it."

He huffed, before coughing with a wince.

He was about to drift off again when Dick suddenly started to talk, fingers still stroking his hand and hair. "Do you know that Dami is trying to convince Bruce to allow him to have a bird?"

He gave a minute shake of his head. He wouldn't be surprise if Bruce gives in. Not that Bruce had ever given in when Jason asked if they could have a pet. The old man even allowed Damian to keep a cow! In the Batcave!

"He haven't decided what kind of bird he wants to have but he was considering either chickens or ducks."

He was hit with the sad realisation that he had never seen a living chicken in all his life! Or, well lives, but point still stays. "Get 'im... chicken. Wanna see one..."

Dick chuckled. "Hear that, B? Jay also votes for giving Damian chickens."

Confusion flickered across Jason's mind? Bruce was with them? Where was he in the first place? Why was it so cold and hard to breathe? Why was he in so much pain? He groaned, trying to shift into a more comfortable and less painful position.

He hissed as his back flared up when the arms around him tightened. "Jay. Jay, stop moving."

"It- It hurts," he moaned, trying to move. There was a sudden agonising grating in his leg and a whine clawed out his throat.

"I know it does. But you need to keep still or you'll hurt yourself further." He felt Dick shifting before a hand guided his head to rest in the crook of a neck and he burrowed with a whimper, struggling to breathe properly. "Shh... Shh... It's okay. We're almost home."

Jason kept his eyes closed, tucking his aching arms closer to his chest, shivering. Why in the world was he so cold and hurting? What happened to him? He felt like he just threw himself into Gotham Harbour during winter, which happened once before when an unconscious Tim had tumbled into the water and Jason had to dive in to save his brother. It wasn't a pleasant experience and they both ended up with a worse-than-horrible pnemonia; Tim due to his lack of spleen, and Jason because he decided that he was fine and ended up nearly dying mid-patrol. "This... kinda stupid," he started, sucking in a breath, "but what... happened?" He remembered that he was chained in a room and there were some- four people torturing him. But Dick was here with him now and he recognised the rumble of the Batmobile which did not add up.

"You were caught, remember? Bruce and I got you out." Dick sounded concerned. "I'm sorry we didn't get there sooner."

"Oh." Jason screwed his eyes shut, wincing as a spasm jolted from his chest. "'s fine..."

"No, it isn't. We should have noticed that you were missing earlier. We- I kinda thought that you were just resting your arm and didn't want anyone to bother you."

And Jason honestly appreciated that because he would prefer it if his family would stop randomly popping up at his safehouses without his approval, or worse, without warning.

"But then you missed Sunday dinner and we grew worried because no one had seen you."

"Sorry for missing it," he mumbled.

"You shouldn't be sorry. Although you should have called for help. Why didn't you?"

He tried to remember how did he get caught in the first place. "Dunno. 'n't r'member." Was it an ambush? A trap? Pure luck?

There was a sigh. "It's okay. You're safe now."

A sardonic part of his mind scoffed. Safe could be really relative. Sure he was saved from his tormentors, but judging by the aches and agony inside and all over him, he doubted that he was out of danger. But he didn't voice it. "Thanks," he said instead, moving his head slightly and pressing what hoped was passable for a kiss to Dick's chin.

He could feel his brother glowing and vibrating at the gesture. And the overjoy was not fully concealed in the response, "Anytime, Little Wing."

#Batfam #Fanfiction #Alternate Chapter/Scene #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Dick Grayson #Nightwing #Batman

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hood-ex · 4 years

Note

Can you give any pointers for fanfiction writing? It's something I've considered trying, but I've never done creative writing and it's a bit intimidating. I'm mostly interested in writing Nightwing, and maybe having other characters (Batfam and Titans) but still always having Dick as the center.

Welcome to Fanfiction 101! I’m here to keep you from making the same mistakes I’ve made in the past.

Pre-Writing Process

There are some people who enjoy outlining the shit out of their story, and then there are people like me who just kinda make the story up as they go. Whatever you decide to do, try to at least have an ending planned out. That way while you’re writing, you can start to craft the pieces you need to get to the ending you have imagined. You can even work backward and plan your story out from end to beginning.

For example, let’s say I want my ending to be Dick and Damian hugging in a hospital. Okay, what pieces do I need to get to that point? Well, if they’re in a hospital then one of them needs to be hurt. Who do I want to hurt? Let’s go with Dick because I want this story to show how much Damian cares about Dick.

Great. Now how does Damian find out that Dick is hurt/how does he save Dick? Let’s say Damian is in the cave when the batcomputer gets an alert from Nightwing’s suit. The alert shows that Dick’s vitals have gone haywire. Damian panics, tracks down Dick’s location, and then both him and Alfie take the flying batmobile to save Dick. They find Dick and take him to the hospital.

Cool but how does Dick get hurt in the first place? Hmm, well, Dick usually always rides a motorcycle, right? So let’s say Dick gets into a motorcycle accident. How does he crash his bike? Maybe it’s because of the weather or because a baddie crashes into him. I don’t want to write a huge action scene so let’s say Dick accidentally drives over black ice, spins out, and crashes in a ditch.

And there you have it. A whole story right there from end to beginning. You can plan things out in a more detailed way before you jump in and write if you want. A basic outline like that ^ is usually enough for me to go off of. The details just come to me while I’m in the process of writing. Try and see what works best for you.

One-Shots vs. Multi-Chapter Stories

If you haven’t done a lot of creative writing, I would suggest you start off by practicing with one-shots. Now, one-shots can be shorter content, but on the flip side, there’s also one-shots that are like 50k words. Totally depends on what the author is willing to put into it in terms of plot, description, character development, etc.

I personally have a hard time finding the motivation to finish multi-chapter stories, which is why I usually stick to one-shots. Short one-shots can be easier because they don’t have to be super fleshed out. The action is quick, the dialogue is impactful, and the scene is memorable.

You can also just jump into the action when it comes to one-shots. You don’t have to do as much build-up. For example, I could jump right into a scene of Dick having trouble breathing like this:

Dick’s having a hard time making sense of things. Vaguely, he can hear Bruce shouting for Alfred. He can feel hands on him. His vision is going in and out. Then, suddenly, there’s silence. Dick wakes up, confused. Tim is sitting at his bedside, holding his hand. Bruce is close by, and when he realizes Dick is awake, he immediately goes over to him. Bruce explains that Dick had a bad reaction to a drug he was injected with. Bruce cards his hand through Dick’s hair to comfort him, and Dick reflects on when Bruce used to do the same thing when Dick was a kid.

End scene.

Okay, so, obviously a real story would have way more description than that, but you get what I’m saying, yeah? That whole scene could be the entire story and it would be enough. But if you have the motivation to do way more than that with a ton of character development and what not, you totally could prolong that one-shot into 50k words. Or just break everything up into a multi-chapter fic.

The problem with writing one chapter at a time for a multi-chapter fic is that it’s hard to keep the motivation to keep writing each chapter. You write one chapter and then put the story to the side for a few days, and suddenly, you keep making excuses about why you don’t want to write the next chapter. To be fair, this can also happen with a basic one-shot, but yeah, tis the life of a writer. Don’t be discouraged if it happens to you. Trust me, it will at some point.

Character POV

Listen, I love writing in first person. In other fandoms, I used to write a lot of my stories in first person POV. I’ve got some bad news for you, though. Generally, people don’t like to read fanfics that are in first person POV. They just don’t. Nowadays, even I tend to skip over stories that are written in first person POV.

Third person POV is going to be your best friend. Get comfortable writing it.

Admittedly, sometimes it’s easier for me to grasp a character’s voice if I first write the story in first person POV. I then go back and change all the “I’s” and “me’s” to he, his, her, hers, etc. That’s just a little trick I do sometimes if I’m having a hard time getting a story started.

Characterization

If you’re not 100% sure how to write a specific character, try and figure out a few facts about them. Like if you want to write Dick then think about some key qualities of his. Sprinkle those traits throughout the story to make the character sound more authentic.

For example, I know Dick doesn’t like cucumber sandwiches. Sometimes I’ll have him or other characters mention this in the story. I also know Dick can struggle with perfectionism. I can make that something he has to struggle with in the story. It doesn’t have to be what the whole story revolves around, but if I just throw in some things here and there about how Dick is mad at himself for failing about something then that makes him feel more in character.

Character Interactions

At first, writing multiple characters interacting at once can be really difficult. It can fuck up the pacing of your story, it can be hard to insert each character enough to make sure they aren’t ignored, and it can be hard to make sure each character is getting a chance to speak.

If you find yourself struggling with this, try and just stick to two characters at first. Once you’re comfortable writing a conversation between them, try adding in another character. And another. And another.

The more you practice, the more you’ll be able to write multiple characters interacting in a scene in a way that feels more natural and realistic.

Genres and Tropes

When it comes to figuring out what you want to write about, you need to know what kind of content your audience wants. For example, fantasy niches (fairies, vampires, etc.) can be harder to “sell” in this particular fandom. There are people like myself who enjoy those niches, but just know that they may not be the most popular niches within this specific fandom.

What are some niches that the majority of fandoms do like? Hurt/comfort, sick fics, whump, fluff. Those kinds of fics are always in demand. People love it when their favs get hurt. People love it when other characters worry about their favs. People love it when their favs get hurt while protecting others. People love it when their favs are getting along and being affectionate with one another.

Go on AO3 and sort the fics in this fandom by “most comments” or “most kudos.” Now look at the most popular fics that come up and look at the tags they use. See what kinds of things those authors are writing about. Read their summaries and try to get an idea of what the stories are about.

Once you get an idea of which kind of genres and tropes are most popular, try and write a story that includes those genres/tropes. People will be more likely to read stories that have tropes they usually like to read about.

Now, of course, you can also just write whatever the hell you want without trying to appeal to your audience. This is what I do a lot of the time. Turns out that the things I like to write about tend to fall more in line with the tropes that are already popular in this fandom.

Spelling and Grammar

People really hate to read stories that have tons and tons of spelling and grammar mistakes. Make sure before you post anything, you put your story in Word or Grammarly (I use the free version) to check for spelling, grammar, and punctuation mistakes. Trust me, your readers will thank you for it.

Practice, Practice, Practice

I’ve been writing creative stories since I was 11 years old. The stories I wrote back then are absolutely shit compared to the stories I write now. So please don’t get discouraged if you write a story and you don’t feel like it’s very good.

Keep trying! Just like with anything else, the more you do it, the better you’ll be at it. There are so many things you’ll learn as you continue to write. Seriously, just recently, I realized I wasn’t always putting a comma in my compound sentences to break up the independent clauses. But hey, hey, now I know.

Pacing, characterization, and plot are also things that will improve the more you write. Writing drabbles (stories with maybe just a few hundred words) will help with this. It will help you learn to choose the most important scene or dialogue and write it in an impactful, emotional, and compelling way.

Okay, class is dismissed! If you have any other questions then feel free to send me another ask!

#writing #writing advice #fanfics #batfam

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anjuschiffer · 4 years

Text

The Wayne Twins

Just woke up from a 3 hour nap and decided to make some tea when another story concept came to me.

I’ve always been down for bio!dad bruce, hell, I’ve been writing content for it (and even holding an event for it), but!

What if... Bio!dad Bruce AND Bio!mom Talia, meaning... TWIN AU (although Talia isn’t exactly the best mom here either :D)

So basically, Marinette is brought up the same way as Damian, but instead of a sword, she’s an expert at using a rope dart

Her rope dart is black with a single red feather, a sliver dart at the end

However, while Damian is taken to Bruce, Marinette isn’t. Instead she remains with Talia

She’s taught about the miraculous, that she is to investigate the whereabouts of it and to retrieve it

Marinette accepts the mission and wanders the world to look for it

3 years pass, Talia yet to receive any news about Marinette, wondering if she also betrayed her like Damian had. It had been a year since her last report

Turns out, Marinette was still on her mission, but hadn’t been able to contact her mother about her progress on it. She had a lead that told her that the miraculouses were somewhere in France

Marinette had almost been caught by the French government when she tried to cross the border, but still managed to get by.

Now using a fake identity, Marinette got an apartment and school documents to ease her mission

Now it was a matter of time to find it

Now, at this time, Damian was more open towards Bruce, finally dropping the last piece of information Bruce needed to know

“Father, there’s something I need to tell you.” He hesitates when Bruce remained silent. “I have a sister.”

“As in-”

“No, not older.” Damian digs through his pocket, having a picture to show him. Single photo he has of the two of them. “My twin.”

Ensue Bruce losing his shit because why is he finding out about his other child through his own? Why didn’t Talia tell him about Marinette?

Ensue the hint for Mari, taking a year to track her down at Paris since Damian didn’t know of her whereabouts for 3 years and Talia wasn’t giving out any info about Mari

Once they do find Marinette, she’s managed to find and have the Ladybug miraculous in possession, despite Fu’s gut telling him it was a bad idea, but gave it to mari because Wayzz said she was the perfect candidate

However, Mari has been conflicted on whether to give it to her mother, her principles being tested.

Also, something like this happens

It had been a walk home, after fighting an akuma and once more giving Adri-Chat Noir the cold shoulder that she feels like she’s being followed

She quickly whips out her rope dart, tying up the stalker, only to find Damian before her

“Damian. What...what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with your father?”

“He’s our father.” Damian emphasizes, not untying himself at all

At that Mari purses her lips, quickly setting Damian free, but doesn’t run up to him even though she wanted to. After all, Damian was the only person she considered family. She resented their mother and grandfather

“You still havent answered my question. What are you doing here?”

“I want you to meet father.”

“No.” Mari growls, her rope ready to attack if she hand to. “He’s not my father.”

“Whether you don’t consider him to be or not, he is by blood.”

“No he isn’t!” She attacks, leading to the two fighting, although Damian mainly dodges or has to free himself from multiple captures. “You’ve gone soft. Mother would be disappointed.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Shouldn’t you have reported to her already?” Marinette loosens her grip on her dart, allowing Damian to take advantage and knock her out.

She wakes up at her apartment, where she’s face-to-face with Bruce

“Marinette, meet our Father.” “Father, meet Marinette, my sister... your daughter.”

Bruce remains still, observing the girl, wondering why Talia never told him about their little girl

Bruce attempts to talk to her, but she breaks out of the apartment, once more fleeing from them

Bruce attempts to go after her, but Damian doesn’t let him

“She’ll keep doing that until she wants to face you. I may not know what she’s been doing for the past three years, but I did grow up by her side for 10.”

Marinette looks for a new apartment and tells her mother about the situation at hand, Talia reassuring her everything is going to be fine and to just focus at the mission at hand

Some time passes and the opportunity finally happens. She’s appointed guardian.

“Mother, I finally know where the miraculous are.”

“Good. Once you have them in your possession, we’ll finally have the ability to complete the League’s goal.”

While Marinette is happy that her mission is almost over, she doesn’t want to hand them over to her mother, something beckoned her to not do it

If living in Paris taught her one thing, it was that she had the power to change

her classmates had shown her kindness despite her cold demeanor, the bakers around the block showed her love and warmth, treating her like family whenever she dropped by

Her coldness melted around these people, even around the Lila girl that got under her skin. While she didn’t like Lila for attempting to frame her for her mistakes, she certainly did like her for her story telling. She should consider being a director or writer.

She knew that she can change, that she didn’t have to suffer from Talia’s rules anymore if she didn’t return

For Talia never truly loved her... she was a mere tool to her...

“She can’t have you.” Marinette muttered to herself, looking at the kwamis with sadness “She’ll abuse you. She’ll hurt you...just like she did to me...and Damian.”

While away from Talia, Marinette had learned more about herself, learned that she liked to sew, that she loved parkour and acrobatics

She learned these, because she was away from Talia, from her controlling mother

A month passed, Marinette now in Gotham, realizing that if she wanted to escape Talia, she was going to need help.

As soon as she stepped into Gotham, she already found it.

She had carelessly let her guard down, surrounded by thugs when Nightwing had fended them off

“You shouldn’t be out here at this ti-”

“I need to speak to Batman.”

“And why’s-”

“Let me speak to Bruce.”

“Hold on a sec, how-”

“He’s my father and Damian’s my brother.” Marinette cut to the chase. “I need their help.”

Dick nods and brings Marinette to the batcave, where Marinette rushes to hug Damian, which confuses the hell out of Tim and Jason

Upon seeing Bruce, Marinette awkwardly hugs him, apologizing for the mess their first encounter was

Bruce hugs her tighter, happy that Marinette finally acknowledged their relationship

“So why are you here?” Jason asks, Marinette telling them about her situation, explaining to them her plan (don’t know if I should make her show them the kwamis or not...)

They agree to help

Talia ends up dropping in the next day, much to the family’s surprise (although they already had everything in motion)

Talia ends up dodging the other bats, chasing Mari and cornering her in a room, Marinette telling them that she can handle it, much to Damian’s worry

“Marinette, come now. Hand them over.”

“I won’t.” Marinette defends, looking at the miracle box in hand. “I will never give them to you!”

Talia rages, beginning to tell marinette how soft she had grown, that she was throwing her opportunity of a life time, that she was stupid for casting aside her right to the ‘throne’

“No I am not! While I’m not the prodigy like Damian, nor am I strong like my father, nor as cunning as you, I know one thing! I’m happier than I’ve ever been since I left the League and I want to continue to be that way!” Marinette yelled, slipping on the Cat Miraculous, shouting catacylsm, holding the miracle box with her other hand

“What do you think you are doing?”

“Something that all the previous guardians should’ve done.” With a shit-eating grin, Mari destroys the box, Talia screaming

Talia gets taken down by Bruce although she ends up escaping and retreating

Marinette finally feels a giant weight off of her, collapsing to the floor

Of course, the plan still isn’t dont

Marinette brings back the Miracle Box (gave Dick the earrings to hold...other rather wear. She changed the earrings to be magnetic) and vows to protect them with her life

“So that’s it, isn’t it?” Damian says, sitting next to her. “What’s next?”

“Dunno.”

“Why don’t you stay here?” Damian offers, Marinette taken aback. “I know you have nowhere else, so why not just...stay with us?”

Marinette looks at the rest of the family, looking at the bruises and cuts on their faces, smiling back at her. Overwhelmed by her emotions, Marinette begins to cry, Damian simply sitting there as she cries.

Her wish was finally granted. She can finally have a warm, kind place to call home.

Tags: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life

#maribat #anju rambles #maribat twin au #bio!dad bruce wayne #bio!mom talia al ghul

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peterxwade24 · 3 years

Text

Safety Found in Red Sleeves

Chapter 7

So, who’s ready for Gotham ft. Thana and friends? Also, Uncles Ed and John show up at the end so, look out for that.

Anyways...

Jason woke up early that next day, and he decided he was just going to have a little bit of a lie in. He smiled and pulled Damian closer, shushing him when he made a noise in protest. “I’m pretty sure the girls are going to join us in a little bit, and then Tim a little while after that.”

Just like he expected, Steph and Cass joined them in the bed not too long after he said it, and then Tim joined in a few minutes after the girls. The five of them laid in bed, everyone finding comfort in each other. No words were passed between the family, they didn’t feel the need to speak.

That’s where Dick and Wally, and their kids, found them about an hour later.

“Why weren’t we called to join the cuddle pile?” Dick pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, while Mar’i, Jay, and Iris ducked around their fathers and climbed into the bed. They, like Damian, chose a Wayne and clung to them. Mar’i clung to Tim, Iris clung to Steph and Jai clung to Cass.

“There’s a nine-year-old practically asleep on my chest. My phone is on my nightstand. None of them brought their phones to my bed.” Jason whispered and carded his fingers through Damian’s hair.

Dick shot a look at Wally, Wally simply shrugged as though to say “when in Rome” before he too got into the bed.

“C’mon Dickiebird. We don’t have anything to do today. We don’t start guiding or protecting them till tomorrow.” Jason’s words were slightly slurred in his comfortable state.

Dick huffed good-naturedly before climbing into the bed with his family and the Wests.

---

Tim’s phone blared from the room he’d claimed, stirring the almost completely asleep cuddle pile into wakefulness.

Jason frowned and shifted Damian from his chest to Steph’s other side. “I’ll be right back. Imma go answer Timber’s phone.” Jason slowly got out of the bed, being careful to not displace the other kids, and quietly left the room. He made his way into Tim’s room, grabbed his phone off of the night stand, and, without looking at the caller ID, answered the phone. “Timothy Jackson Drake’s phone, Jason speaking.”

“Why do you have his phone?” Bruce’s irritated voice came over the line.

“Because Tim’s in my bed asleep with most of my family and he left his phone on the nightstand next to the bed he sleeps in.” Jason’s voice didn’t change despite a grin forming on his face. “If something’s gone wrong at Wayne Enterprises, then shouldn’t you as the CEO be stepping up to solve it? And not your seventeen year old son.”

“You have no-” Bruce growled.

“I have no what? Room to care about my little brother? Right to care that my brothers and sisters would perish in your care?” Jason’s tone took on a deadly edge. “I have killed for less. I have killed to keep my son safe. I am not above maiming in the defense of those I love.” Jason hung up the phone and put it back down on the nightstand with a weighted sigh. He turned and the only indication he was surprised by Cass’s appearance was a slight widening to his eyes. “Hey Cass.”

Cass simply walked towards her brother and let herself slump against his chest. She wrapped her arms around him in her own display of thanks.

Jason simply rubbed circles into the older girl’s back. “I will not let him hurt any of you ever again. Harvey and I will fight tooth and nail if we have to, he has already given up his parental rights to Damian. You and Steph and Tim are just as much my siblings as you are my kids, well, you not so much a kid but you know what I mean.”

Cass shook with silent laughter and nodded. She patted Jason’s back and pulled back. She flashed him a smile before pulling him back to the rest of the family.

---

Jason smiled as Damian ran around the park with Mar’i, Jai and Iris. Damian hadn’t had many opportunities to open up to children his age, as there hadn’t been any in the league, and despite the fact that he was older than the other three the four of them got along fairly well. Jason watched as Dick fretted over the three younger kids, Wally stood beside him with a small affectionate grin on his face. Tim was riding a skateboard around the park, Bart keeping pace beside him. Cass sat with Kon while Steph, Cassie and Cissie chatted a few paces away from the other two.

Damian, Mar’i, Jai and Iris ran around the park, weaving around other patrons and laughing. Damian looked over his shoulder at the other three when he ran into someone.

“Are you okay? Oh I’m so sorry.” A girl, who was with the person Damian ran into, spoke with a French accent. She was significantly taller than her companion with long black hair, the bangs and tips of which were dyed purple, and copper coloured eyes. She fretted over both Damian and her friend, who Damian was finally taking in. Her friend was short, just a head or two taller than Damian, with blue eyes and short pink hair, part of which was pulled back into a spiky ponytail.

Damian nodded. “I’m fine.”

Mar’i, Jai and Iris, upon seeing Damian standing, turned and ran to get their fathers.

The taller girl nervously flicked her bangs out of her face before frowning. “Are you sure you’re okay? Alix doesn’t always look where she’s skating.”

The other girl, apparently named Alix, looked ready to comment when Dick and Wally approached.

“Are you okay Damian?” Dick’s tone was filled with concern while Wally hung back with the three other kids.

“I’m fine Uncle Dick.” Damian frowned, “where’s Baba?”

“He’s gathering the other three, then they’ll be over here.” Dick reassured his young brother/nephew.

Jason ran to his son and scooped him up. “Oh Kutlat Saghira. Are you okay?” He turned to look at the French teens and smiled. “Thank you for stopping to make sure he was fine.”

Alix’s eyes widened before nodding. “Yeah, uh, no problem.”

Juleka gave a shy smile and nodded. “It was the least we could do.”

-*-*-*

Thana stared at her friends, the three who had always had her back and the two newest additions to their ranks. She took a moment to thank Plagg and Tikki, without whom she may never have met her closest friends and allies. She took in her friends and the way that all of their outfits seemed to go together without being obnoxiously matchy-matchy.

Alix seemed to be vibrating in her shoes, which were custom made turtle shell patterned Heelys. She wore dark gray distressed jeans with a dark forest green racerback tank top. She had a black and red men’s flannel over her tank with a red beanie perched on the top of her head. She had a dark green turtle themed shoulder bag strapped across her back.

Nino, standing next to Alix, had similar shoes done in snake skin instead of turtle shell. He wore loose-fitting blue denim jeans with several snake related patches around the side seems, he had a gray collared shirt under a red sweatshirt. He had a black shoulder bag across his back, on the opposite side Alix’s was. He had his normal headphones around his head while he had a pair of black headphones atop his head.

Adrien wore black and white checkered vans with white socks. His pants were salmon with baby pink criss-crossing stripes covering them. He wore a baby pink sweater with a light gray fanny pack.

Chloé wore a layered yellow skirt with a pair of foxes chasing each other around her hem, her skirt was made up of a solid layer of yellow silk under two or three layers of tulle. She had a white crop top tank under a red knit cardigan. She had an orange coloured baguette purse at her side. She had black converse with black socks to finish off her outfit.

Kim wore a pair of black running shoes, with gray sweatpants and a white shirt. He had a red zippered hoodie on top of that. He had a tiny gray ox with a smaller black cat curled up on its back on the hem of his shirt.

Thana had a pair of black running shoes, with gray leggings and a white tank top. She had a red crop top hoodie made of the hoodie she’d received from Jason all those years ago with a few added panels. Her tank top had little depictions of the Vietnamese zodiac animals on her chest.

Alix smiled brighty. “So, Kiti, you’ll never guess who I ran into, almost literally, yesterday.”

Thana hummed in acknowledgement as she led the group to the elevator. “Who’d you run into Rùa?”

“Oh, just, your brother, his brother, and an assortment of children.” Alix grinned as Thana froze and turned to look at her.

“What?” Thana’s voice was almost too quiet to hear, prompting Kim to drape his arm across her shoulders while Nino settled his normal headphones around Thana’s neck.

Chloé stared at Adrien, her blue eyes seeming to stare into Adrien’s soul.

“Hey, Al, that maybe wasn’t the best thing to say when we’re trying to get to the lobby to go on a tour with the rest of our class.” Adrien attempted to gently tell her off, but it backfired.

“Whatever.” Alix slunk ahead of them into the elevator.

---

Adrien looked at Alix forlornly as Alix chatted with Juleka. He knew he’d have to apologize eventually, he may have one fear as Monsieur Punaise (which was his partner) but he had two fears as Adrien Agreste, and they were disappointing his father and an angry Chloé Bourgeois. He shook his head and looked back at Chloé, who had a frown on her face as her eyes continued to scan the streets.

Nino fiddled with his phone as he kept pace a step behind Chloé but a step ahead of Thana and Kim. He looked to be fully absorbed in his phone but he was quick to pull Chloé away from the street a few moments before a car came whizzing past.

Their tour guide, a pleasant man who’d introduced himself as Richard, despite the fact that the bodyguard had snorted in response before neglecting to introduce himself, led them around Gotham. He pointed out all of the touristy destinations, while Thana mumbled what could be considered sad facts about each place.

Thana kept flicking her eyes to the bodyguard, there was only one Gothamite with the exact same build as their bodyguard with the same scars littering his cheeks and jaw. She was worrying the cuffs of her jacket sleeves when she heard the distinctive tap of her Uncle Ed’s cane. She whipped around to attempt to locate him, before seeing him and his tacky suit and her Uncle John and his equally as tacky suit approaching from behind Kim. She broke away from the group, causing the rest of her class (as well as the tour guide and bodyguard) to turn to stare at her as she threw herself into her Uncle Ed’s arms.

“Little Hood. It’s good to see you.” Her Uncle Ed held her close while Uncle John finally reached the duo.

“Hey Mini Todd.” Her Uncle John ruffled her hair before settling an arm around Ed’s shoulders.

The three reunited for a moment under the watchful eyes of the class’ bodyguard, Thana’s friends, and Marinette’s class. Kim pulled out his phone to take a picture to send to his Mẹ, because she had asked for any updates on Thana’s family situation. Nino took a picture to send to Thana, because he knew she’d want to have photographic evidence of when she reunited with her two of her uncles.

“I missed you two so much.” Thana whispered into Ed’s neck while John settled his hand on the back of Thana’s head.

“We missed you too.” John assured their niece, he knew that she’d had doubts about whether or not they had actually missed her as much as she’d missed them, and he hated her father for giving her that complex every day.

Lila let out a blood-curdling scream before appearing to tremble as she pointed at the trio. “Marinette is hugging The Riddler and Scarecrow!” Lila then proceeded to pretend to faint, luckily for her Alya was right there to catch her, unluckily for her everyone else was focused on their classmate and that fact that she appeared to have tears streaming down her cheeks.

Taglist:

@southamericangothamite @maribat-is-lifeblood @mystery-5-5 @our-preciousss @mochegato @chocolatecatstheron @throneoffirebreathingbitch @2confused-2doanything @wannajointhecrabcult @dreamykitty25 @tomanyfandomsonmymind @moonlightstar64 @justafanwarrior @mialuvscats @pheony1882 @pepelachanel @moongoddesskiana @abrx2002 @ladybug-182 @greatcatblaze @thatonecroc @vixen-uchiha @superbwhispersconnoisseur @lilkymilky @susiej1118 @bluesimani @thatonecroc

#maribat #ml crossover #mlb crossover #ml x dc #mlb x dc #Safety Found in Red Sleeves #SFIRS

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nightwingmyboi · 4 years

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Can I ask why you hate Batman and Robin Eternal? (it was my first DC comic ever, my dad bought it for me in one of his trips even though I didn’t know anything about the batfam or comics in general lmao). It’s been so long since the last time I read it I don’t even remember what it was about (I do remember enjoying it in that moment but it may have also been because it was a gift and the drawings were cool lol)

Aww, that’s very sweet. There are certainly bits of the comic that are enjoyable. I’m pretty sure that I’m actually in the minority when I say that I don’t care for it...but since you asked lol, there are several things about these comics that really rub me the wrong way. This is pretty negative (and way longer than I’d planned), so be warned.

For starters, Dick Grayson was just...not treated well by his family members in these comics. It felt particularly brutal here specifically...I think because Dick would say very harmless things, and his family’s responses in return were so abrupt and unreasonably harsh. Like, Dick says that he’s glad to see Batgirl, and wonders what some kids are doing dressed as Robin...

Batman and Robin Eternal #4

And Batgirl bites his head off. Or, there were times where Dick would just be hanging out in the general vicinity, and people would just take shots at him out of the blue for seemingly no reason.

Batman and Robin Eternal #3

It felt like he could barely breathe without someone criticizing him for it. At one point, Dick confesses that he’s feeling discouraged, and Damian’s response is to punch him in the face.

Batman and Robin Eternal #22

Which is a pretty good summary of the family’s treatment of him in these comics to be honest. Just literally, lashing out at him for zero reason while he just takes it.

One scene in particular that really frustrated me was this one:

Batman and Robin Eternal #5

You know, that other time in this comic series where one of Dick’s family members punches him in the face while he, once again, takes the hit and does nothing to retaliate. Good times.

For context...the big bad in these comics is a villain known as “Mother.” Her speciality is brainwashing. She placed several of her “children” in high-profile positions in order to enact her plans, even managing to infiltrate Spyral. In a message left for Dick, Batman specifically explains that “Anyone could be under her control, Dick. They could be people you know. People you love…they probably will be” (Batman and Robin Eternal #1).

Unlike in Pre-52, Tim’s background is largely a mystery. He’s acting suspiciously. So, Dick takes it upon himself to investigate and ensure that Tim’s not one of Mother’s plants.

On Tim’s side of things, he’s upset that Dick investigated behind his back and found out where he’d secretly had his parents living for their safety. Dick unintentionally brought danger to their doorstep (though, notably, no one was actually hurt). But Tim’s pissed, and punches Dick in the face.

Not gonna lie, this was hard to take. I mean, even if Tim was in the right in this argument (which he lowkey isn’t in my eyes), that still does not make it ok for him to just punch Dick out of the blue when Dick is, as pictured above, just talking to him.

And the hypocrisy that Tim is displaying here is stunning. How he had previously told Dick off for keeping secrets from the family by going undercover with Spyral, when he in fact had a whole secret family tucked away in a corner. How he tells Dick off now for invading people’s privacy, when just earlier in this very comic he had planted surveillance devices in Stephanie’s apartment without her consent.

Batman and Robin Eternal #2

How Tim storms off and goes on a solo mission with Jason because Dick’s supposedly too personally invested and thus compromised, when he just got so emotionally unhinged that he lost his shit at Dick and punched him. Once again, may I just say, simply stunning.

But does Tim ever face any consequences for this behavior? Oh, of course not! Instead, we get Jason joking about how great it is to punch Dick in the face when he is not even fighting back.

Batman and Robin Eternal #7

And everyone collectively piling on to Dick and blaming him, even though he had legitimate concerns. Awesome.

Batman and Robin Eternal #6

Batman and Robin Eternal #7

And Dick just continues to take it. Not once does he stand up for himself. It’s so hard to read him continually get shit on, I’m sorry. And it’s crazy how they treat him this way, and yet still ultimately look to him for encouragement and rely on him to save the day in the end? You hate to see it.

I also didn’t like what they did with Cass. I know, I’m just full of complaints. But they really watered her down. With Pre52 Cass, you could actually describe facets of her personality. She was compassionate, had a very refreshing, sassy sense of humor, etc. She wasn’t just...mysterious action girl who has a dark past and cries occasionally. I mean, there were moments where I could see glimpses of personality (the time she visited the ballet being the main one), but on the whole she punched people when needed, and otherwise just stood there as people talked about and around her. Essentially a prop for the story.

Batman and Robin Eternal #24

Another thing that makes me so uncomfortable (that I couldn’t pin down until I read this post here) is the fact that this comics version of events makes it so that Cass’ own backstory no longer has her as the focus; it’s not about her emotional struggles and journey. By having Cass kill Harper’s mother rather than a random man, it makes the story about Harper, and about Cass gaining Harper’s forgiveness. So...more using Cass as a prop...as an element of someone else’s story in what is supposed to be her origin!

Honestly, I have no idea why Cass would want to stay with the Bat-family in these comics anyway...her previous mentorship with Barbara Gordon is nonexistent. She’s no longer Batgirl. The two people who were once her closest friends treat her horribly.

Batman and Robin Eternal #3

Batman and Robin Eternal #4

As if she’s barely a person. Once again, sooooo hard to read this. Why.

Yeah, I could go on forever nitpicking here. You probably got a sense of it already, but I absolutely despise how Tim is characterized here. Most of the time, he’s an ass. Jason also had pretty inconsistent characterization. And I really don’t like how the whole comic treats Robin like something Batman owns and is meant to benefit from, rather than as something Dick created. I don’t like how Cain was “redeemed” in the end, and that Cass took on the name Orphan instead of Black Bat or Batgirl. Once again, how is she connected to the Bat-family exactly? And I don’t like how Dick’s time as Robin is portrayed.

The existence of this comic...drives me insane...

It’s also the worst time to be doing a “Does Batman treat his kids like child soldiers?” arc considering it is coming on the tail end of Spyral, aka that one thing that Dick did because Bruce beat the shit out of him and forced him to.

Nightwing #30

Looking through Batman’s speech to Dick there...some of the things he says to Dick are so uncomfortably close to what Cain says to Cass. Really horrible parallel there. Why DC.

I really don’t know why Dick was so certain that Bruce didn’t do something shady with Mother, as was implied throughout the comic, when Bruce had pulled the Spyral crap fairly recently. Idk why they didn’t play into that side of things. Like, the fact that this arc ends with Dick comforting Batman about them not being child soldiers:

Batman and Robin Eternal #26

Instead of Batman stepping up to reaffirm to Dick that he was a good partner and a trusted ally when he spent the whole comic being insulted by his family and being told this stuff by his enemies (and flashback!Batman):

Batman and Robin Eternal #8

Batman and Robin Eternal #12

Just sucks. I mean, Dick had just recently sacrificed everything (his family, his friends, his life, his identity, everything) to do as Batman wanted and go undercover, only to hear this over and over? To hear that none of it was enough? That he could never be enough? And Dick never gets reassurance that this isn’t true. This comic is just agonizing in so many ways.

Obviously, everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and I am not criticizing this to be a killjoy? Just venting. If you enjoy these comics, you are free to continue to do you. But I am never going to like them. And when I see people championing these books as the best the Bat-fam has to offer...oof is that hard to hear lmao! Surely we can do better than all this.

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incarnateirony · 3 years

Text

Oh MAN it's refreshing to tell someone to get fucked that got WAY too up their own ass about people wanting them for their connections.

Like no. If you're being a personal douche you're being a personal douche. Look how much your connections don't matter to me! [click] BYE

fuck that shit I ain't got time for your catty two talking bullshit

that's your shit man, you keep that shit, don't bring me your bullshit

like OH YOU HAVE A PRETTY DIRECT LINE TO PERSON OF INTEREST? COOL.

Oh. You're actually just being a giant dick. Wow, yeah, 100% not worth it.

Amazing the people that can hold their shit, and can't. 4 years talking to one person in a capacity, they're cool. Here's business, do with it what you want.

One motherfucker gets attention for like half a year and they just-- jesus christ.

"U just want me for my connections" says the person I was fucking defending since before she had connections, including to the people she's apparently listening to now, and went so far as to delete them bitching about her so she wouldn't get their feelings hurt but FUCKING SURE

actually I've asked you for one possible consideration in however long I've known you and been kind to you, or built and catered spaces to you, or gave requested space to you, and that one query nothing that actually provides *me* back with return, and I already told you I contacted 18 others, please deflate your fucking skull.

Like CUTTING the cord felt good but god DAMN if that doesn't piss me off as a general sentiment. Who the fuck are you I could email the reps the fucking same and already did it's like calling going "hey bob you work at burger king right there's apparently a toy recall do u think u can let ur boss know" "U JUST WANT ME FOR MY CONNECTIONS" fucking hell bob calm down it's burger king there's like 20 other employees i already asked amanda through ted chill you were just the letter B, I was asking how your day was but you just went fucking wild what the FUCK like CLEARLY you got some deeper shit going on whether it's about me or your own shit but that ain't my shit so please flush it

If I wanted your fucking connections I'd have fluffed you and told you whatever the fuck you wanted.

I wanted the person I considered a friend, or at least friendly. That person apparently either doesn't exist anymore or never did, unclear which. Whoever this person is? IDK. I don't care if they know the queen of fucking england. That's a blocked bitch.

Things I would directly gain from:

posting videos and getting traction into eternity rageposting and clickbait about Lineage (as opposed to a single general cumulative video hoping to reach as many people to prevent harm as possible -- at BEST there may be one more because another ex-actor explicitly just reached out to me after Clay and Tim sent the first vid to them, and wants to share their part of the story too but idgaf if it's their channel I boost or what we'll work it out like damn adults)

Things I would not directly gain from:

Lineage disappearing because they received a C&D and stopped hurting people, making further conversation about them null and fucking void and rendering a fuckton of my own content over the last few YEARS inert. (TAW, CA, Lineage, whatever)

IS THIS HARD. WHAT'S MY ILL GOTTEN GAINS HERE TRYING TO MAKE #2 HAPPEN SWEETHEART? THE ILL GOTTEN SPOILS OF BEING HAPPY TO STOP A SCAMMER FROM SCAMMING PEOPLE??????

THE PEACEFUL BLISS OF BEING ABLE TO FINALLY DELETE THIS BLUE HELLBLOG SITE AND NOT NEED THE MATERIAL ANYMORE??? WHAT???? WHAT IS IT?????

The convo was basically this (stripped of contextual clues and given replacements)

"Hey uh, someone's stealing out of your boss' register and overcharging customers"

"Meh he won't mind."

"...what???"

"It's not a lot they're just skimming"

"I--disagree? Maybe mention it to him? Actually nm I already got to it don't worry like one of the other contacts will probably work out, how's your day?"

"YOU JUST WANT ME FOR CONTACTS/POWER/WHATEVER"

"...???? To keep someone else from stealing??? bro why are you even on this i said don't worry it'd nbd"

"NOW YOU'RE MANIPULATING ME UR MANIPULATIVE"

"????????????????? THE FUCK?"

like are you mad I DIDNT need to ask

I'M CONFUSED. ANGRY, CONFUSED, YET RELIEVED.

No manipulative is sending people to spam my inbox and talk self conflicting circles when I block you or imply I'll be to blame for self harm or spirals THAT'S manipulative shit. I hit block and suddenly it's not that I needed them, they're asking me to unblock? WHO NEEDS WHO AND IS USING WHO. Sort your shit out then get back to me.

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unmaskedagain · 4 years

Text

Five boys the Batfamily scared off (And the one boy who helped Marinette get revenge on them all)

This is actually based off a prompt/ask I got by #vixen-Uchiha

Okay, believe it or not, I’ve in history of all my days writing fanfiction (I just turned 27 and have been writing since I was sixteen); I started when Twilight was still at the height of its popularity. (All that work has been deleted, burned, and doused with holy water; don’t ask questions) But even with almost a decade of writing fanfiction, I never even considered approaching this fanfiction classic.

Until now.

Wish me luck. And don’t judge me too harshly.

Note this was also inspired by a poem I loved called To the Boys Who May One Day Date My Daughter by Jesse Parent

Marinette always knew Tom was her step-father. Sabine and he married when she was three after all. And while she considered the great cuddly bear to be her dad, she still had a great relationship with her actual father: Bruce Wayne. And all her brothers and Sister. She spent every summer with them and every other Christmas in Gotham. She loved her family. She just wished they take a chill pill.

And stop scaring away her freaking boyfriends.

Lê Chiến Kim: The Boy who swears Marinette’s related to the Boogieman

If anyone asked Marinette now if she would ever date Kim, she’d have died of laughter. Kim was like a goofy cousin. They were great friends. Their moms were best friends. She just didn’t see him like that.

However, it wouldn’t have been so funny to six-year-old Marinette who ran from school with a Daisy in her hair and a big smile her face.

“Daddy, Daddy,” She’d squeal to her Papa later that day. She barely noticed he was still wearing bat uniform, except the mask. Or all her brothers were with him.

“Hey Sunshine,” Bruce smiled lovingly at his youngest daughter. “You have a good day at school.”

“Give ‘em hell, firecracker,” Jason called from the background.

Tim and Dick laughed. Bruce just shook his head amused.

“I got a boyfriend!”

Silence.

That day would forever be known as the day all the smiles died. Seven-year-old Damian just blinked in confusion. He didn’t know what had happened but he knew it was bad. And that it involved his sister. Was she in danger? Did she need help?

Before Bruce could process or respond to his precious, baby girl, who was way too young to date (And what the hell was Sabine thinking?). Dick literally pushed him out of his chair like it was nothing. “What’s his name? Who are his parents? Where does he live? And where can I find him right now?”

Marinette, being too young didn’t notice the threat in her eldest brother’s voice and the look of murder in his eyes, had no problem telling Dick all about her best friend Kim, who was super nice, and gave her a Daisy, and kissed her cheek.

When the call ended, Bruce brought up the picture of the boy in question. A nice-enough looking boy to most, but he knew the truth. He knew the evil in his heart.

I have been waiting for you, Bruce thought, not just to Kim but to all the boys who would day date his daughter, since before she was even born. Before you took your first steps, I was preparing to make it so you’d never walk again.

However, Kim was still just a child. He needed a kinder touch. He looked back at his children: Dick, Jason, Cassandra, Tim, and Damian, and made his choice.

When Dick showed up to walk her to the school the next day, Marinette didn’t think to question how her brother got from Gotham to Paris so quick. (Cough, misuse of Zeta beam). Or why he was dressed in all black with a scary biker jacket on. She just shrugged and let him help her tie her shoes and carry her bright pink, hello kitty, and backpack.

He held her hand the entire way to school, where Kim and his dad were waiting by the doors. Kim had another daisy in his hand that he gave to Marinette.

“This is Dick,” Marinette introduced her brother. “My biggest brother. This is Kim, my boyfriend,” Kim preened. “Look, Dick, Kim got me another daisy.”

Dick beamed at his sweet little sister, “I see. Hey! Isn’t that you’re friend Rose? Why don’t you go show her?”

“Okay!” And she ran off.

As soon as she was gone, Dick’s smile quickly disappeared and he glared at the little Casanova, and his father, who felt like someone had just walked over his grave.

“My sister is a little young for a serious boyfriend,” Dick hissed. “Don’t you think? Don’t want her to grow up too fast, right?” The two could only nod in fear. “Good. Don’t hurt her. Don’t make her cry. Because I’d hate to have to have another talk with you, Chiến. It might not go as… nicely.” And with that, he left to go find his sister, leaving two terrified people in in wake.

That conversation would be the reason Kim broke up with Marinette over recess but to the girl’s dismay and why the boy wouldn’t allowed to date for another ten years.

Looking back Kim would swear darkness and shadows started to fill the schoolyard. That Marinette’s older brother’s voice got deeper and his eyes turned completely black. He had been a living nightmare, one that would haunt his dreams for years.

Marinette wouldn’t get another boyfriend for years.

Chat Noir aka Adrien Agreste; The Boy who just didn’t want to Get Neutered

Marinette never considered Adrien or Chat Noir her boyfriend. He had been her best friend, her partner, and for a long time, her crush. However, before Marinette found out who was behind the mask, and he earned the title of her best friend in the whole world.

Chat Noir had the title of Guy who can’t take a hint.

They had been just thirteen at the time. Chat had been spending for more and more time flirting with Ladybug and joking around then actually taking the fight seriously. And when he wouldn’t get the response he wanted from his Lady, he’d pout or throw a tantrum and storm off. It had been getting to be a real hassle. And as much as she liked Chat, she had been seriously considering Master Fu’s offer of getting her a permanent partner to replace him.

Then one day if all change. All the silly behavior, most of it anyway, and the constant flirting all stopped and never started back up. It would take Marinette months to find out why.

Unbeknownst to Marinette, her Papa, Bruce had been keeping a watchful eye on the deteriorating situation. The flirting, his daughter’s frustration, the lack of care. It had to be stopped. Chat Noir had a few lessons to learn.

Bruce glared harshly at the image of the cat-themed Superhero. He was proving to be a useless partner for Ladybug. And a prime example for a sexual harassment claim. “You’re sure you can handle this,” He asked son.

Damian scoffed, “I will teach that alley cat the true meaning of fear.”

“Go.”

When his son was gone and Bruce was once again alone in the Batcave, he smirked darkly at Chat Noir and all other boys who would come and go. “When you were still playing war in the school yard, I was perfecting headshots. You can’t catch up at this point.”

One night, after a particularly hazardous fight with an Akuma, Chat Noir had been running home when suddenly everything went dark.

He woke up, tied upside down, and gagged. For a few moments he thought Hawkmoth had finally gotten, wondered if this was the end.

When a sword pressed against his throat, and a chilling voice whispered in his ear, “Care to find out just how many lives you really have, fleabag?”

At the moment, Chat Noir no longer wondered if it was the end. He knew it was.

A boy, Robin, he realized glared fiercely at him.

“I should kill you,” Robin sneered. “I should rip you limb from limb and leave your head mounted on a spike to show the next fool who thought he was worthy of my sister’s hand. Ladybug is too good for the likes of scum like you.”

Chat Noir gulped. Sister? Ladybug was Robin’s sister. Adrien’s eyes widened, that meant Ladybug was Batman daughter. He was going to die. He was just going to disappear and his father, or most likely Nathalie, wouldn’t even notice until he failed to show up for his next appointment.

Gorilla would notice though, Adrien thought, he’d miss me.

Robin pressed the tip of the sword to Adrien’s face until blood was drawn. “You will cease your incessant flirting with my sister. You will train harder for your battles. And you never, ever, leave Ladybug to fight alone again. Am I clear?”

Adrien nodded his head earnestly. He’d never flirt with anyone again, he swore. He wouldn’t even celebrate Valentine’s Day. Or anything.

“And if for some miracle,” Robin hissed, “My sister deems you suitable to date, you will treat her will respect. You will never touch her without permission. And if you hurt her, Consider my genes a mark of Cain; you will suffer seven times whatever you do to her.”

Chat Noir whimpered.

A smoke bomb later. Chat Noir’s bonds were released and Robin was gone.

It took a long time for him to stop shaking.

He never flirted with Ladybug again. He worked harder and became the partner she deserved.

And when Adrien discovered Marinette was behind Ladybug’s mask, he only managed to stumble a little.

However, when Marinette told him that her brothers was coming for a visit; she couldn’t understand why he paled and stuttered out excuses for photoshoot he never mentioned before in far, far away countries. That same day, Adrien had his father taken them to Australia for vacation under the threat of Adrien dying his hair pink. He wouldn’t return for a month.

Jon Kent: The Boy who, in retrospect, really should’ve known better.

Marinette’s first real boyfriend was the son of her father’s best friend, Clark Kent, otherwise known as Superman. She had been only fourteen and it had been a summer romance while she stayed in Gotham. She had thought Jon was perfect; handsome, kind, funny…

Invulnerable to most weapons and had amazing healing factor.

Plus it’s not like her papa would kill the son of his best friend, right?

Right.

It had all been going great… until it wasn’t.

“I welcome you in my home,” Bruce hissed at the picture of Jon Kent on the bat computer. “I trained you. I trusted you. And you betrayed me.”

“Let me speak with him, father,” Damian demanded. “He is my friend. He will listen to me.”

Bruce shook his head, “That’s why I can’t send you. You’re too close to the situation. He snuck past all our defense. Now I have no choice but to do same. J?”

The Asian girl smirked, “Little Superboy will know dread.”

Jon had been visiting the fortress of Solitude when… it happened.

Before that day he had never dreamed the place would be anything less than safe, anything other than secure.

His dad had just flown off to help someone in Brazil. Jon waited patiently for him to come back while he dreamed of his beautiful new girlfriend. Marinette was amazing, perfect, and the nicest, sweetest girl ever.

When suddenly he felt a tickle in his throat, and he tried his best to clear it but it just got worse and worse. Until Jonathan Samuel Kent, Superboy (now that Connor was going as Krypton), fell to his knees as he struggled to breath.

No matter what he did, the more breaths he took, the worse he felt. It was like his lungs were on fire.

“Do not struggle,” A voice said. Jon looked up see Blackbat, Cassandra, standing above him. How did she get into the fortress? Not only could only a Kryptonian open the doors but only a member of El could be let in. It was impossible. “Struggling makes it worse.”

Jon coughed, “What?”

“The air,” Cassandra waved her hand around. “It is filled with dust. Green dust of Kryptonite. It has disable you and your powers. It’s concentrated. You will not die. The alerts of the fortress were disabled. No one is coming to help you, villain.”

Jon shook his head frantically. He wasn’t a villain. He wasn’t a bad guy. This had to be some mistake.

“No, not villain,” Cassandra corrected. “Not yet. A thief who thought he could earn my family’s trust and then steal away our most precious jewel; our princess. And do it without consequences. I am here to teach you better.”

Superboy flinched at her words.

“You will not pressure my sister,” Cassandra hissed. “You will be the gentleman we believed you to be. If you cheat on her, I will ensure you never have children. If you strike her, I will know. She will not keep your secret. You can’t make fire feel afraid. And I will come for you. Do you understand?”

Jon nodded, fear in clear in his eyes.

“Good.” She leaned forward, right into the young superhero’s face. “Some say you and your father, your cousin Kara, and Connor, are invincible. That you can’t be stopped. That you are gods among us.” She scoffed. “Let me make this, if you break my sisters’ heart, you will learn, boy of steel, that even gods bleed.”

And then she was gone, and with her all traces of kryptonite. It didn’t stop the chill that filled Jon to the core.

It was to no one’s surprise when Superman showed up at the Batcave not long after. “Bruce,” Clark asked with his arms out. “What the fuck?”

Marinette’s relationship soured when suddenly Jon was too scared to hold her hand, her be alone with her, or kiss her. She got the hint that he just wanted to be friends and broke it.

She found out a year later what really happened.

Luka Couffaine: The Boy who decided he didn’t want to sing his tune yet.

Luka had been Marinette’s first serious boyfriend. She was sixteen. They had been together for months and were getting to the ‘I love you’ stage.

He was cool. He was funny. He was a budding Rock star. He had dyed green hair, tattoos and earrings. Luka went onto tour with his band every summer. He was older than Marinette by two years. He had quite a few previous girlfriends. And he hadn’t been scared off by the normal attempts by his other kids.

In other words, he was Bruce Wayne’s worst nightmare.

And the nightmare got worse, when for the first time ever, Marinette was bringing a boyfriend home for Christmas. It was all the confirmation he needed that the things were serious.

It was why he knew he had to send the greatest soldier he had. Luka Couffaine would rue the day he decided it was good idea to ask his princess out. “Are you ready?”

Tim nodded. “I’ve done my research,” he declared. “I know what makes him to tick. I. Will. Break. Him.”

“Excellent,” He drawled out the word like it he tasting fine wine. Not caring at all that he sounded like a superman.

“You really think he’s a threat, dad?” Tim asked. “Because I can take care of it. I can have him eliminated. Ra's al ghul owes me a favor. It’ll look like an accident,” He promised. “It’ll look like he just… disappeared.”

A sense of pride filled Bruce. Tim was his most capable and resourceful soldier. He would make a great batman. Any of his kids would.

Batman stared the picture of the boy on his phone as he fought the urge to crush it in his hands. “No,” he finally answered. “I’ve known plenty of rock stars and so called bad boys in my day. Angel’s smart,” he said using Marinette’s codename. “I have been routing out indifference apathy from her life, her childhood was filled with love and affection. There are no daddy issue for his teenage talons to latch upon. Just… make sure he understands who he is dealing with.”

“Understood.” And then call ended.

He looked up and saw all the other Justice League members staring at him with expressions of awe, fear, and confusion.

“…Marinette’s got a new boyfriend, huh?” Diana asked when the call disconnected. Amusement in her tone, she knew Bruce would never seriously hurt a kid.

“Poor guy,” Barry said with a shake of his head.

Clark pinched his nose, “You can’t keep scaring guys away from her forever. Eventually, she’s going to find one who isn’t afraid of you.”

“And then she’ll marry him out of spite,” Dinah added.

There were snorts from the other league members.

“Like that’ll ever happen,” Oliver said with a shake of his head. “That kid would have to be the biggest moron in the universe. I’ll pity his family.”

Marinette had constantly warned Luka about how overprotective her family was. Luka hadn’t thought much of it. He dealt with overprotective fathers and brothers before. Eventually they grudging begin to like him. Or realize that if they actively hated him, it would just make the girl get attached.

He was excited for Christmas, excited to prove himself to the girl of his dreams, and impress her by dealing with her entire family. Luka didn’t understand why Adrien looked so afraid when he told him. Or why he asked what type of flowers he liked.

“For the funeral,” Adrien shrugged. “I need to know what to buy.”

Luka had laughed, thinking the blond was joking. He had already met a two of her brothers; Dick and Damian. They had been growls and threats but nothing he couldn’t handle. But Adrien didn’t laugh. He just shook his head and promised he’d be there for Juleka. Luka thought he was overreacting.

However, nothing. NOTHING. Could have prepared Luka for the first time he met Tim.

Luka had been walking home with Kagami, his long-time friend and one-time rival for Marinette’s affection. It was board daylight, there were tons of people around, and then they had made the apparent mistake of walking by an alley, when suddenly they were pulled into the back of a van, hoods thrown over their heads, and their hands bounds.

He didn’t know how much time had passed. Or where they were being taken. All he saw was darkness. All he felt was fear. Was this how died?

When the hoods were finally removed, the two teenagers found themselves in what looked to be a deserted warehouse, bound to their chairs, with a teenage boy not much older than they sitting across from them, looking absurdly comfortable given the situation.

My name is Timothy Drake-Wayne. I am Marinette’s older brother,” He said. “Let me make something clear before we begin. The last hour never happened. This conversation never happened. We never met. And if you say otherwise,” Tim’s eyes narrowed. “No one will believe you. I was just by dozens of witnesses in Mexico with my boyfriend less than two hours ago. But if you do tell anyone, there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

They nodded not daring to say a word.

“Luka, Luka, Luka.” Tim smiled an eerie grin that should look more at home on the monsters from Horror movies, and not on such a handsome face. “I hear you’ll be visiting us over the holidays. Must be so exciting for you, meeting your girlfriend’s family. Are you excited, Luka?”

Luka swallowed hard. He never thought he’d hate the way his own name sounded. “I was- I mean I am. I am.”

“Good,” Tim said. “I just wanted to offer you a bit of advice. So you can know to expect. You see it call all be a bit… daunting to newcomers. Some people don’t understand the Wayne family’s unique tastes. Okay?”

He nodded.

Tim still smiled. In fact he never lost his smile the entire time. Yet his eyes were empty like there was no real life in them. “When you first come to my home, you will see the bone carving over the doorway. It will be hard, but try not to imagine your own femurs so expertly carved.”

At this Kagami’s eyes widened. She had done her best to remain calm but somethings were too much.

Tim smile widened, “There are one or two rooms you will not be allowed in. However, accidents happen and we understand. But we do ask that you pay no attention to our… ample crawl space. Or the smells that can sometime come from it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luka stuttered. “Sure, no problem. Man.”

“Try not to go into Father’s playroom,” Tim continued on. “It will be easy to spot. It’s mostly empty, apart from a rubber mat and a drain. He gets so testy when stranger go in there. You’ll hear strange noise from time to time but just ignore them. That is just father… playing.”

The green-haired boy just stared. Because what the fuck.

“Just follow that advice, and you should be fine,” Tim promised. “Though you are a pretty one. You both are. And we like pretty ones. Oh the things we do to pretty ones”

Luka whimpered. Kagami felt tears build in her eyes.

Tim laughed, “Now, now, none of that,” He said channeling his inner Brucie. “We’re not going to hurt. We’d never hurt Marinette’s friends.” He promised. “We would hurt people who hurt Marinette because people who hurt Marinette are not her friends.”

Red Robin looked over the two, “What I’m trying to say is. Break my sister’s heart, and we will kill you. I will kill you. You won’t see if coming. You won’t know we’re there. And if you’re lucky, you might not even feel it. Clear?” They nodded. “Excellent. Now you’re going to leave the same way you came. Remember not a word.” He smiled got even bigger.

They felt hands on their shoulders.

“Oh and Kagami,” Tim’s voice rang. “Should romantic feelings spring to life between you and Marinette again, just know our sister Cassandra is much scarier than I. And a much better shot.”

Then the black hoods and complete darkness came gain.

When they were finally let go, in the exact same place they had been taken, neither Luka nor Kagami spoke for what seemed like forever. Their minds still wrapping around what had just taken place. However, it was Kagami who finally broke the quiet.

“Well, it appears I dodge a bullet, huh,” She shrugged, her face not betraying the fear she still felt. “Sucks for you. I’m going to go propose to Chloe. I know can I take her mom in a fight. And that she’s not a serial killer.” Kagami then gave him a grave look. “Happy holiday, Luka. I’ll send best flowers to your funeral.” And the she was gone, literally fleeing down the crowded street, leaving Luka alone with his thoughts and sense of his impending doom.

He broke up with Marinette an hour later.

It would take weeks before he would willingly be in a room with her again.

Kaldur'ahm: The Boy who regretted ever walking on land.

Marinette had met her next boyfriend through her brother Tim. Ironic, considering she had just found out what he did to Luka. She had gone in for some extra training with the Black Canary when she spotted him. Kaldur; aqualad. Marinette had never talked too much with him before but found he was a very calm person and level-headed. A good leader, no matter how much Tim complained.

They had spared together one day. And another. And Another. Then he asked her out. It was sweet… While it lasted. And it didn’t last long.

Batman had looked at Kaldur’s picture, scoffed, and said, “Jason?”

The sound of a gun clocking was heard, “Little Mermaids going down.”

Unlike his brothers, Redhood had no time for mind games. He went for the quickest route.

Aquaman burst into room where the justice league meeting was, “He shot Kaldur,” He roared to Batman. “The Red Hood shot Aqualad!”

Bruce didn’t bat an eye, “Is he alive?”

“Yes,” The King of the seas said quickly. “But that’s not point.”

“Seems like it is,” Bruce said and went on with the meeting leaving a stuttering, red-faced Aquaman still standing there.

It was to one’s surprise when Kaldur dumped Marinette and was gone. Disappeared to the safety of Atlantis. And when he came back, Marinette was barred from Young Justice Headquarters.

It was on that day, that Marinette Dupain-Cheng-Wayne decided enough was enough.

Roy Harper-Queen: The Boy who should start making better life choices

It was weird to say but Marinette met the boy who would turn out to be the love of her life when she was ten-years-old. And then sometime after her eighteenth birthday, she would team up with his clone to go rescue him. They became friends, went on missions together. It was a year later that he asked her out.

Roy was pissed at the world, ready to die for anything if it meant he’d went fight, had a rude mouth, feared nothing and no one, and didn’t play by anyone’s rule but his own. In other words, he was perfect.

Marinette just never meant to fall in love. She certainly didn’t expect to say yes when proposed.

They had been keeping their relationship a secret from both their families for over two years. They were happy together. They loved each other.

But more importantly, they could plot revenge together.

And revenge was sweet.

It all played out during a Justice League meeting. Roy, Red Arrow, and Ladybug had been full members for quite some time. The meeting was just about to close, when Roy stood up, “I have an announcement to make,” He said. “Red Arrow will be withdrawing from missions for the perceivable future. As will Ladybug,” He looked at Marinette who nodded firmly.

“What’s going on, Roy?” Oliver asked his once wayward son, with a frown.

Batman eyed them suspiciously. As did the other members of the batfamily, all were present. Apart from Alfred because Marinette liked Alfred.

Wonder Woman frowned, “Are you going solo again, I thought you were happy.”

“We’re fine. We’re very happy,” Roy said slowly before taking a deep breath and doing the bravest thing he ever would in his entire life. “Ladybug’s pregnant and I’m the father.”

A few seconds passed before the words were processed in the Superheroes mind.

Bruce’s eyes widened, his mind stopped working, and then a snarl ripped form his throat as he moved to attack. The batkids joining him.

“Alpha Code Angelbug” Flash shouted.

That was all the other league need to go into defensive positions around Roy, against the batfamily. Marinette remained where she was with glee in her eyes. Superman stood in front of Roy, blocking him from view and potential danger.

The Flash, Cyborg, Black Canary, Wonder Woman, and the Green Arrow stood in front of them. Oliver aimed at arrow at Batman, “Don’t move!” He yelled. “Don’t you dare move, Bruce. I’ll do it. Roy’s my son. And I won’t let you hurt him.”

Batman growled, “He. I. My daughter!”

“Get Roy out of here, Superman,” Wonder Woman ordered. “We’ll hold him off but we can’t do it for long.” She stepped towards Bruce. “Marinette’s a grown woman. She makes her own choices.”

Dick shook his head, anger clear on his face, “Dude, you were my friend.”

Damian snarled, “Harper’s a sneak and a coward.”

“No honor,” Cassandra agreed.

Jason just looked at his best friend, “I love you…. But you’re dead.”

Tim just growled.

“No one’s dead or dying,” Marinette said as got up. “Because I’m not pregnant,” She said loudly, drawing everyone’s attention. She walked to her boyfriend and pulled him out from behind his shield. “But Roy and I have been dating for almost three years. And we’re getting married. You can be happy for us. Or I can never talk to you again.”

Roy grinned, “Pops,” he said to Oliver, whose face was torn between relief and fury at it was prank. “We thought you and Bruce could be the main wedding planners. With the rest of the Queens and Waynes helping out; you know now that we’re going to be family. ”

With that the two lovebird left the room, leaving the chaos they had created.

Silence filled the room as Batman and Green Arrow stared at the other.

Oliver gulped. He let out a breathy chuckle, “So I think a wedding in Star City would be great. Lots of Lilies. The Queen family loves lilies.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed, “Gotham, roses.”

Black Canary crossed her arms, “Star City would be safer.”

“Gotham is far more beautiful,” Tim snapped back.

And just like that, battle lines were drawn. Justice League members’ face turned weary.

Whether they knew it or not, that was Marinette and Roy’s last act of revenge.

Forget Batman vs Superman.

Try Bruce Wayne versus Oliver Queen: billionaire against billionaire, father against father. Elsewhere, thousands of journalist, photographers, florists, and caterers trembled and they didn’t know why.

#LadyArrow #Marienette Dupain Cheng #Marinette deserves better #batfamily #oliver queen #roy harper #Tim Drake #cassandra cain #dick grayson #damian wayne #jason todd #ml fic #ml salt #vixen-uchiha

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kandoesfanfics-writes · 4 years

Note

83 but with all the batfam + Mari fluff?

“If you want me, come and get me, motherfuckers.”

Ah, thank you. A feel good prompt at last!

—————————————————————————————————-

Bruce blinked slowly, trying to gauge exactly what emotion he should be feeling at the moment.

Clark was standing behind him in awe and slight terror, waiting to see how the big Bat was going to respond.

Diana looked absolutely delighted by the goings on of Bruce’s children.

The entire hallway was covered in little foam darts with sticky cups attached to the tips. Pink, purple, black, gold, red, blue, green, and grey foam darts painted the normally dull colors of the manor. They were attached to the pictures, the walls, the banisters, basically anything solid.

Throw pillows were tossed in every direction. Blankets were held up haphazardly, as if they were a hastily made shelter. Books were also scattered across the floor, along with some creatively taped together foam darts that looked like…throwing stars? While it didn’t look like anything was broken or damaged, the lack of Alfred greatly concerned Bruce.

He was positive the butler wouldn’t let the children get away with this. Alfred had taken care of this house since he was a boy, and Bruce knew that the children couldn’t overtake Alfred. Each child had their own sense of respect for Alfred, occasionally listening to him instead of Bruce. If Alfred had ordered them to stop, they would have ceased immediately.

Alfred didn’t call Bruce to tell him he was leaving either, so the man knew his ‘father’ had to be inside the house.

“Clark, take the eastside. Diana, you take the west side. I’ll try and see if I can’t locate Alfred. Keep on your toes, the kids have most likely set up traps,” Bruce said quietly.

Both nodded, though Clark seemed more serious than Diana. The Amazon’s blue eyes were sparkling with excitement and mirth as she broke away from the group. Clark was hesitant to leave Bruce, but one glare from the man sent him on his way.

Clark may be virtually indestructible, however, he knew his best friend well. He also knew his best friend’s children well. He knew damn well he was walking into a literal warzone with some of the fastest and most intelligent non-metas to ever take up a cape. He was now a potential target, and he wasn’t dumb enough to underestimate the Bats…especially not on their home turf.

——————

As it turned out, Clark was very right to worry.

How did he know?

There were now fifteen darts stuck to his head.

The man of steel had been walking down one of the many corridors when he felt something strike the back of his head. He had pulled off a dart, which was grey in color. He tried listening around him to hear if there were any footsteps approaching him, but when he closed his eyes to focus, a barrage of darts came out of nowhere.

He began to run, only to be yanked into a passageway by someone.

That someone swearing fervently once they saw him.

“Motherfucker! The girls’ got Clark, Dick! And he obviously didn’t fuckin’ see Babs because he’s completely unarmed! He’s fuckin’ useless!”

Clark’s eyes widened as he looked to the dark haired man speaking.

“Jason? One, watch your language. Two, what in the name of Ma’s apple pie is going on here?” he demanded, looking at Bruce’s second eldest son.

Jason gave him a grin with teeth, essentially telling the Blue Boy Scout to go fuck himself. Another set of footsteps caused Clark’s attention to snap to the newcomer, who he recognized immediately. Dick was holding a finger to his mouth with an intense glare on his face.

“Shut. Up! Do you want the girls to find us? Or worse?” he hissed lowly.

Clark looked bewildered between the two brothers as they began to make obscene hand gestures towards one another in annoyance. He still had no idea what was going on and was about to go find Bruce until Damian appeared.

“Training exercise,” he whispered. “Girls against boys. To participate, you had to go see Barbara for the comm and dart gun with your specified color. Since you did not, this means that you are not on our team and will be considered a casualty point instead of full points. However, since the girls got you first, that means if we shoot you, we don’t get any points. So you’re safe from at least us.”

Clark felt a headache beginning as he rubbed his right temple. The things these kids thought up when they were bored! Clearly Bruce hadn’t known about this, considering his confusion upon entering the manor. Did Alfred know what the kids were do—

He gasped as another dart hit him. This time the dart hit the back of his neck. He ripped it off to see it was a grey foam dart once again. He held it in his hand, rubbing the back of his neck. Clark wondered which of the girls would have chosen grey—

“Fuck, we’ve gotta move!” a fourth voice came, slightly panicked. “He found us! Abort, abort!”

Who found them?

Who was he?

Clark watched as Tim haphazardly shoved things into a bag, turning it into a makeshift shield. Jason began to swear violently as Damian responded that they couldn’t move from their position. The girls were lying in wait for them just around the corner. If they fled, they’d all be shot. Dick seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, taking cover behind one of the statues in the room. He went to speak until Jason covered his hand.

“I’ll go.”

“Jay—”

“I said, I’ll go. Just get ready to run,” Jason said, alarmingly grim.

Wasn’t this just a game—?

Jason sprinted out of the room, hollering as loudly as he could, “IF YOU WANT ME, COME AND GET ME, MOTHERFUCKERS!”

Clark watched as a spray of darts followed Jason’s path as he attempted to reach cover. Dick, Tim, and Damian darted down the opposite way, leaving Clark behind. The Kryptonian just stood there, confused and still being pelted with little foam darts. It wasn’t until he heard a jubilant voice that he actually began to move.

“Clark! Why aren’t you getting in on the action?” Diana asked him, with her own dart gun in hand.

“Diana? What are you—”

“The girls were a player down and invited me to join their team! I think this will be a brilliant exercise in teamwork, strategy, and stealth!”

Of course Diana would think this was fun.

And of course, Diana also took this opportunity to shoot him with her own red and blue darts.

Clark then wondered if Bruce was getting it just as bad as he was.

———————

Bruce, while having not been shot yet, was not having much luck either.

He had seen his boys race past him, but the trio hadn’t paused for a second. All three had had foam darts of the pink, purple, black, blue and red, and grey variety sticking to them, some falling off as they ran. Considering the fact that none of his children had stopped their mischief upon seeing him, he figured that either they didn’t see him…or they saw him and did not care.

His daughters, as well as his hopefully future daughter-in-law, also darted past him without a care. The girls were mostly covered in grey darts, but there were some red, blue, gold, and green ones attached to them. Diana was also trailing after the girls, however, she only had grey darts on her body. They paid him no mind, giggling and laughing as they raced past him.

Bruce was now irritated, and he continued to search for Alfred. It appeared the only sane person in this goddamn house would have to restore order. His kids had even roped sweet little Marinette into their tomfoolery, and it was up to Bruce to stop them before they got her hurt. Though, Alfred was probably the only one who could stop them now.

He went to walk back into the foyer, not having found Alfred in the kitchen or living room, when he felt something hit him between the eyes.

The next thing Bruce noticed was that his children had all frozen, staring at him with wide eyes.

Jason looked delighted, a wide grin on his face. Dick and Tim were horrified, mouths agape. Damian was laughing, as was Stephanie. Marinette’s grey eyes were wide, and she’d covered her mouth with her hands. Cass’s shoulders silently shook with mirth, and Diana had a shit eating grin on her face.

Clark had just appeared next to him sighing, a grey dart on his forehead.

“Got you too, huh?” he said with a sigh. “Okay kids, which one of you decided nailing me and Bruce on the forehead would be fun?”

“Oh, it wasn’t one of them,” a sing-song voice came. “By the way, both teams lost.”

This brought forth arguments from the Bat-siblings as Marinette wiggled her way to the front. The dark haired Parisian walked over to the speaker… a red-headed woman in a wheelchair.

“Who won then, Ms. Barbara?” Marinette asked, ever polite.

“Please, Marinette, call me Babs,” Barbara said with a smile. “And our surprise sniper won of course! By taking out both Bruce and Clark, he clenched the final victory.”

Marinette’s grey eyes lit up, and she laughed loudly.

“Congratulations, Alfred! Looks like we’ll be making dinner tonight,” she said with a grin.

Alfred stepped out from behind his hiding spot, smiling at the lot.

“Yes, yes, you will be. I trust Master Dick and you will keep them in line?” he said, handing Barbara his dart gun.

“Oui, Alfred!” Marinette chirped. “What would you like for dinner?”

“Surprise me, Miss Marinette. I’m sure you’ll pick something wonderful,” he replied.

Bruce watched with wide eyes as Alfred instructed the children to clean up. The kids left without a fuss. Marinette and Dick left the room last, discussing what they would be making for dinner. Alfred walked over to both Bruce and Clark. He snatched both darts off of their foreheads before smiling and saying, “Welcome home, Master Bruce. Master Clark, it’s good to see you. Miss Diana will join you once she’s done helping the children clean up.”

Clark looked down at his best friend before sighing.

The Waynes and company were… certainly something else.

#maribat #no real pairing but hinted #feel good fluff #kan answers an ask #kan writes some things #prompt response #long post

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