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mochegato · 3 years

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Hope on Board

Chapter 14 – There’s a New Oracle in Gotham

Chapter 1 Chapter 13

“Are you nervous?” Dick asked as he and Marinette waited for the doctor.

“No,” she said a little too calmly. Dick raised an eyebrow at her. “Terrified is not the same thing as nervous,” she answered back refusing to look at him.

Dick chuckled lightly and pulled her into his chest, nuzzling into her to calm both of them. “I’m scared too,” he whispered.

Marinette shook her head violently into his shoulder, tears starting to well up in her eyes. “What if something’s wrong? What if I’m doing something that is hurting the baby? What if it’s just my body hurting the baby and I can never have children? What if the baby needs surgery? What if…”

Dick interrupted her increasingly panicked rambling. “Hey, hey. It’ll be okay.” He hooked his finger under her chin to encourage her to look up to meet his eyes. “It will be okay. The doctor said she wasn’t worried, she just wanted to know what was going on.” His voice was calm and filled with concern for her. “We will know more in just a little bit and we’re going to get to see our baby for the first time!”

She gave him a weak smile. “Yeah, that will be really nice. I’m really excited to see him or her.” She buried her head back in his chest, taking comfort in the feel of his arms around her. “Sorry.”

She could feel Dick shaking his head as it rested on hers. “It’s okay. I understand. I’m scared to, but really excited to see our Little Bird.”

“Bird?” She asked with an amused smile. “I think Adrien has decided the baby is a kitten.”

“My Mom always called me her Little Bird,” he answered nostalgically. Close to the truth. She called him her Robin, but he couldn’t say that.

Marinette smiled warmly at him. “Little Bird. I like that. Good theme for a nursery too.”

Dick chuckled. “You’re already thinking about the nursery?”

Marinette rolled her eyes and pulled him onto a waiting room couch with her. “I’ve been thinking about the nursery since I found out I was pregnant.”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” They heard called out from the door to the back offices.

“Here,” Marinette called standing up. She laced her fingers with Dick’s and squeezed. He gave her a supportive smile and kissed her temple.

The technician smiled kindly at them. “Good afternoon. My name is Julie. How are you feeling today?”

“Nervous,” Marinette answered honestly.

“I thought you weren’t nervous,” Dick whispered in her ear with a smirk, trying to get her to smile again and succeeding.

Julie nodded and gave her an understanding look. “That is pretty normal. This is your first time seeing the baby, right?” Marinette nodded mutely. “That is incredibly exciting and nerve wracking. It was for me. Here’s our room. Please get up on the bed and lay back. I’m going to need you to lower your pants just a bit for me.”

Marinette took a deep breath and sat on the table bed. She looked over to Dick nervously. Despite knowing everything was probably okay, she couldn’t stop her mind from running through all the terrible options. Anxiety and hormones had taken charge of her brain and she couldn’t slow it down or stop it. The spiral was now in control, centrifugal force keeping her from escaping but then suddenly it stopped.

She looked over to find Dick holding her hand, cradling it to his chest. His other hand was on her cheek, gently brushing it with his thumb. His smile was soft and reassuring. He was there and he wasn’t going anywhere. Whatever happened, she wouldn’t have to face it alone. He would be there with her, holding her hand when she needed a reminder and carrying her when she couldn’t walk on her own. She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. She turned back to Julie as she finished getting everything ready.

Julie brought out a small disposable sheet and tucked it into Marinette’s pants. “This should help keep them clean,” she informed them quietly. “Okay now the gel. It’s heated so you don’t have to deal with cold gel. That was never fun for me.”

Marinette nodded and focused on breathing evenly while they waited for the screen to light up with something. As soon as Julie put the wand on her belly, they saw an image appear on screen. Marinette narrowed her eyes to focus on the image. Julie finally stopped moving the wand around after a few seconds. Marinette cocked her head to the side to try to make out the image… nope. She cocked her head to the other side. Nothing about the stark black and white image made sense.

She looked over at Dick to see if he could make anything out and laughed. His head was moving from side to side like hers had, but he was moving faster than she had. “What?” he laughed back at her. “I’m sure it makes sense, I just need to figure out the right angle.”

“Oh, sorry. That’s on me,” Julie assured them. “I’m just taking some measurements first.” After a few clicks she moved the wand to a new position. “Huh.”

“Huh? What huh?” Marinette’s head whipped back to the screen to see if she could figure out what Julie was seeing. “Something wrong with the baby?”

Julie smiled widely. “No, not as far as I can tell anyway. I’m not seeing anything of concern… with either one.”

“Either?” Dick’s voice cracked as he repeated the word.

Julie moved the wand to a slightly better position and suddenly the image became… ‘very’ wasn’t quite the right word, but more clear. If she squinted, Marinette could make out two little heads and bodies curled up around each other. “Either,” she repeated. “Would you like to hear your babies’ heartbeats?”

Marinette nodded in a daze, refusing to remove her eyes from the screen. Twins. They were going to have twins. They were going to have twins and her parents were half a world away. Two babies not just one. She was terrified of not being able to be a good mom to one baby and now there were two. How was she going to support two babies?

Her mind stopped when she heard the distinctive sound of a heartbeat. It sounded like the heartbeat had an echo, the second heartbeat. She looked to the edge of the monitor. There were two numbers there, one for the heartrate of the first baby and one for the heartrate of the second baby. “They match,” she commented quietly.

“What?” Dick asked giving her a confused look.

“Their heartrates, they match.” She smiled as tears started gently falling. “I always wanted a sibling to play with growing up. Our babies are going to have that. And they’re already in sync. They’re already protecting each other.”

Dick smiled and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Two Little Birds.”

Marinette giggled and pulled him down for a kiss. She rested her head against his temple watching the monitor change as Julie moved the wand around to take more measurements and pictures of the babies. “Twins,” she repeated in awe watching the monitor.

“Twins,” Dick repeated happily.

“Did you want to know the gender now?” Julie asked.

“You can tell already?”

“They are in a good position for it otherwise I probably wouldn’t be able to for a few weeks. You guys are incredibly lucky, this almost never happens this early.” Julie offered. Marinette looked over to Dick for his input. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought about it. “I could also write it down for you if you prefer. Or, you will likely have a few more ultrasounds so you can find out then.”

“What do you think?” Dick asked her carefully.

“I think it might help for buying clothes and designing clothes, figuring out what we want to do, picking names, but I don’t know,” she finished uncertainly. “What do you think? What do you want to do?”

“I… I want to know,” his voice became confident as he spoke the words. “I want to know what we are having and what names to pick.”

“Okay,” Marinette squeezed his hand again and turned to Julie. “We want to know, please.”

“If you’re sure,” she waited for Marinette and Dick to nod before continuing. “This one,” she indicated the baby on the left, “is a boy. And this one,” she indicated the baby on the right, “is a girl.”

Dick grinned impossibly wider. “A little Marinette and a little Dick,” he commented quietly.

“Oh,” Marinette gasped and her face turned to sudden realization. “Oh, I’m going to kill Jason,” she growled.

“It isn’t his fault,” Dick laughed.

“Don’t you dare defend him. Yes it is! He spoke it into existence. He owes me food and babysitting,” she pouted. “I’m eating for three because of him.”

“Pretty sure it’s because of us,” Dick commented wryly. He laughed at Marinette’s mock glare and shifted his expression to mock solemnity. “I will let him know.”

“And Lucius! I’m not talking to Lucius right now either,” she added on.

“What did Lucius do?”

“He agreed with Jason, the traitor.”

“You really should have expected that when you told him,” Dick shrugged kissing her temple, the grin on his face too wide to wipe off.

“I didn’t tell him. Tim did,” Marinette corrected. Dick nodded with a bemused smile rather than say anything. “How am I going to carry twins?” She suddenly asked in a horrified voice.

“I’m just printing off some shots for you to take with you and show around if you want to. The doctor will want to speak with you in just a few minutes to discuss what to expect with twins. I can take you to the next room when you’re ready. Here’s a towel to wipe off the rest of the gel. Just knock on the door when you’re ready.” She handed them the ultrasound images and gave them a smile before leaving the room.

Dick took the images and studied them in awe while Marinette cleaned off her stomach. There were his babies, both of them. He could just make out their heads and their chests. He traced the lines of their bodies, a sense of love and protectiveness swelling in him. A goofy grin on his face. He knew he was going to freak out about how to manage it later but today, right now, he just wanted to bask in this. Marinette curled into his embrace and rested her head on his chest looking at the images as well, a contented smile on her face.

<><><><><>

Dick pulled out his phone while he waited for Marinette to get back from the bathroom and dialed a familiar number, the grin on his face too wide to hide. “Hey, you might want to avoid Marinette for a little while.”

The other end of the line was silent for a few seconds as all the possible infractions against Marinette were considered, until finally the correct one registered. “…Holy shit! No way! You’re kidding,” Jason’s laughter boomed through the phone. “Congrats, man.”

“Thanks,” Dick grinned.

“Is she actually mad?” Dick could hear the cringe through the phone.

“Nah. Scared about how we’re going to manage it, we both are, but not mad. Happy though. Excited. I’m going to have twins, Jay. I’m going to be a dad.” Dick couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped his lips. He was going to have two babies. He was going to have a family. He knew he was going to be a father before but actually seeing the baby made it so much more real than just seeing a bump.

“Yeah you are.”

“A boy and a girl.”

“You found out already?”

“Yeah, apparently we were really lucky and they were in the perfect position.”

“Hey! I called it. Holy shit. There’s a new Oracle in town, baby.”

Dick laughed bordering on hysterically and ran his hand through his hair. “You better watch it. I might tell Barbara you said that.”

“Hey, I already promised to babysit for a few hours a week. What more do you want?”

“Marinette wants food.”

“Is that Jason? Tell him I want pizza and cookies today. I expect more later,” Marinette spoke up loud enough for Jason to hear.

Jason chuckled. “I’ll bring the pizzas and cookies. Movie night at your place?”

“How about movie night at the manor instead?” He looked to Marinette to see if she approved.

Marinette nodded. “Okay. Then Damian can come if he wants, no pressure, but he knows he’s welcome.”

Dick grinned and pulled her into a hug, kissing her temple. “Spread the word?”

“Seriously?” Jason groaned. “I’m already providing the food, for apparently everyone. I’m stealing B’s card.”

“Fine. I’ll send a text,” Dick agreed.

“And Adrien?” Marinette asked.

“And Adrien,” Dick confirmed. “The whole family.” Marinette smiled dazzlingly and curled further into his embrace.

Chapter 15

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @golden-promises @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @laurcad123

#maribat #Dickinette February #dickinette #platonic jasonette #platonic adrienette #Hope on Board #Knocked Up AU #prompt - life

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rosesgonerogue · 3 years

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Finding Each Other (Again)

Chapter One

Masterlist

“Make way guys, out of the way!” Dick bellowed from the entrance of the batcave. “Alfred, we need you!”

Marinette, jostled in his arms with every step, tried to liberate herself from her brother-in-law’s iron grip. “Calm down, I’m fine.”

“No offense bug, but I just watched you get crushed by a steel beam. Alfred is checking you over.”

“Tikki, spots,” Marinette said, as he deposited her on a cot. “See, not a bruise on me. I only jumped in to save that kid because I knew I would be fine. I’ve been eaten by a t-rex before, I was perfectly safe.”

“You what?” Damian demanded darkly.

“Dames! How was your patrol?” Marinette asked, grinning at the sight of her husband.

“What just happened to you on patrol?” Damian demanded.

“Dick is overreacting. I know it can be kind of… unsettling to see things like that, but the Miraculous suits are nearly indestructible. Only another Miraculous or some type of magic could hurt me while I’m suited up.”

She leaned in to kiss Damian’s cheek, but his face was stone.

“Are any of those Miraculous things up for grabs?” Jason asked, pulling off his helmet.

“Not for you,” Marinette scoffed. “And don’t worry, Dames. Dick is overreacting, the beam barely made contact with me. I was just making sure it fell safely.’

“Hold up, hold up,” Tim said, actually turning away from the computer. “You redirected a steel beam? Just with your strength alone? How strong does your suit make you?”

“I haven’t actually ever tested it, that could be interesting,” Marinette contemplated, handing Tikki a cookie. “But I’m stronger than I was when I first started out as Ladybug.”

“Part of it is because you’ve worked with me for so long - we’ve grown together. But you’re stronger than any other Miraculous use can be because you’re also the Guardian,” Tikki said. “Alfred, these cookies are amazing.”

While Alfred began examining Marinette, he chattered with Tikki about his baking methods. Dick was telling an overly dramatized version of the night’s events while Tim theorized exactly what Marinette could be capable of. All that was missing was the last few members of the family, all occupied with their own business. Marinette leaned back on the examination table, content with the daily she’d married into.

“-and if she were facing a metahuman with enhanced strength-”

“Drake, will you do us all a favor and shut your idiotic mouth?” Damian snapped, his voice dripping with acid.

“That was out of line,” Marinette said, straightening up. “He’s just having fun, Damian.”

“Just having fun? Were you just having fun when you threw yourself under a steel beam today? Or how about last week, when Killer Croc almost ripped off your leg?” Damian spat. “Oh, and the week before when your heart literally stopped because you stepped in front of Mr. Freeze?”

“Whoa, whoa, hang on,” Marinette said, standing to really face her husband. “That’s uncalled for, Dames. What’s with all of the hostility?”

“What’s with all of the hostility? Every week I have to see or hear about some way my wife almost died. You have absolutely no sense of self-preservation and that makes the rest of us worry about you, which makes you a liability.”

“Excuse me?” she demanded, uncaring of the awkward silence between the rest of the family. “A liability? I know exactly what I am capable of, Damian Wayne. In case you forgot, I had a life and a hero career before you. Long before you.”

“But this isn’t magical butterflies, Marinette, this is the real world!” Damian shouted, ripping off his domino mask. “People die here, and we don’t all have a Miraculous to save our asses. You rely on Tikki, but how do you know she won’t fail, or time out too early? Without her you’d be dead.”

Marinette’s eyes were wide and burning with rage, but Tikki was the first to speak, her tiny body radiating with fury.

“You have no idea what Marinette has gone through to get here. She is the most capable Ladybug and Guardian that I’ve ever seen, and that means more than you’ll ever know.”

Looking back at his wife, Damian could see more hurt than anger in her eyes. He felt a pang now that his panic from hearing Dick’s story had died down, but it was too late. When he should have expressed concern and care for his wife, he’d let anger take over. A firm stubbornness rose in him, and when his wife’s eyes met his, he levelled his gaze at her, unwilling to take his words back.

Glaring at him, when she spoke Marinette’s voice was thick with unshed tears. “Well, I formally apologize for the liability I’ve been all this time. If you’ll excuse me, I have commissions to work on.”

She shoved past him, leaving the silent Wayne clan behind. Her back was straight and her stride was measured - none of them could have guessed that silent, angry tears ran down her cheeks. Outside the weather was terrible, the wind howling through Gotham’s streets.

Walking silently for blocks, Tikki flitted around her nervously, using the terrible weather as a cover - not that there was anyone really on the streets to notice her. Finally the two ducked into an alley where Marinette collapsed against a brick wall.

“He’s wrong, Marinette,” she finally said indignantly. “Damian’s worried for you, but he also has no idea what it takes to hold a Miraculous.”

“Am I just a liability, Tikki?” Marinette asked, running a hand through her hair. “Am I just making things worse for the entire family?”

“Marinette, no! You’ve saved them plenty of times, and don’t you dare wonder if I’m what makes you special. We’ve been together for so long because you’re special,” Tikki said firmly.

The Guardian sniffed, sagging a little. “Thanks, Tikki. I guess I really should go work on those commissions like I said I would, which means I need to go home.”

“Only after you’ve eaten the rest of Damian’s favorite ice cream,” the kwami said.

“After all of the morality speeches you gave me in Paris, I had no idea you had this mischievous streak in you. I think Plagg is finally rubbing off on you after all of these centuries.”

Tikki smiled. “Only when someone hurts my Ladybug.”

Smiling faintly herself, Marinette pushed herself up while Tikki situated herself in Marinette’s purse. Talking to Damian wouldn’t be fun, but they would figure things out - they always did. Besides, they only fought because her husband was worried for her wellbeing. So, Marinette made her way towards their home, one of the safest neighborhoods in all of Gotham. She could almost see the old Colonial-style house when they saw a woman standing on the sidewalk.

She was just standing there under the streetlamp, the light emphasizing how angular her features were, if not exaggerating them. With the way the woman stared at Marinette, it was clear that she would speak to them, and there was really no way to get home without crossing the woman’s path. As much as she didn’t want to, Marinette decided to bite the bullet and speak first. “Excuse me, Madame, can I help you?”

Nothing in her posture changed, but glittering eyes assessed Marinette critically. “So you’re the little French fashion designer? I can’t say I’m impressed. I always had much… higher aims for my son.”

With those words Marinette felt her blood freeze in her veins. So this was Talia al Ghul. She’d heard stories of the woman, but she always hoped not to become involved with her at all.

She couldn’t back down. Marinette met her mother-in-law’s eyes without flinching, hand snaking to her back pocket for her phone.

“Don’t try it, little girl. You and I are going to play a game. It’s called ‘how much does Damian love you?’”

“It’s tempting, but I think I need to pass,” Marinette said.

At that, Marinette viciously kicked forward, hitting Talia right in the knee. She didn’t try to watch the result, sprinting forward with all of her energy - she only had to make it to-

There was a sharp prick in the back of her neck, and Marinette felt her legs give out from underneath her. She heard Talia limping over.

“Maybe you’re not completely hopeless, but you were never going to win this. Now let me explain the rules of the game to you.”

Marinette wanted to protest, to scream until someone came, but she couldn’t even prop herself up on her arms. Even more alarmingly, black was slowly overtaking her vision.

“Dear little Damian has a month to find you. If he doesn’t, I get to kill you and use it as a means to get the information I need. Now sleep well, darling. You’ll need it.”

Taglist:

@tbehartoo @kris-pines04 @thesunanditsangel @constancetruggle @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @rosalineandrosemary @novicevoice @momothefemur @theymakeupfairies

Note: Hey guys, I know it’s been FOREVER since I posted anything. I just finished my first semester of grad school, and it was a bit overwhelming to say the least. Oh, I also have a boyfriend now. That’s new, and he does tend to take up some time. But I’m not abandoning my other stories, I just wanted to try something a little different. Long term this is going to be cute, and it’s going to have some hurt/comfort vibes. I know this is really different from what I usually write, so tell me what y’all think. The taglist is open if anyone wants to be added, just leave a comment below and ask to be tagged!

#daminette #maribat #this is kinda dark but i promise it's gonna be cute in the end #tw kidnapping #i know i usually do fluff and ridiculous stuff but this is what i get for starting grad school in 2020

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ellana-ravenwood · 4 years

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The day he understood what Death means - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : The youngest Wayne makes a shocking discovery...And will need his parents, siblings, and the one and only Alfred, to recover from it. /Drabble.

I don’t know. I was thinking about this. How when you’re a kid, realizing that one day you’ll die, but worst, that the people you love will die, is sort of traumatic...And wanted to write about it. So. Here we are, with little Thomas eh. I hope you will like it :) :

My masterlists blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

If you have no idea who Thomas is, he appears in those stories (long story short he’s the youngest kiddo, biological of Batmom and Bruce) : The Great Mall adventure, Master of Diaper Shaky steps and bad teaching, Polichinelle, “Go away, you’re confusing my baby”, Wild Child 2, “We want them back”, How do you make babies ?“ and Mom got lost again”

******

Realizing your loved ones are not immortal for the first time can be traumatic.

Especially if they’re amazing, if they’re your heroes, if you admire them beyond all measure, if they love you unconditionally just like you love them so damn much, and if you can’t even imagine your life without seeing them every day.

If you can’t even fathom the fact that maybe, one day, they won’t be there when you wake up and go look for them. And that they will never be there again.

And so it was particularly quite the shocking discovery for little Thomas Clark Wayne, 5 and a half years old, to find out about that certain thing called...”Death”.

It happened on a moody, rainy Summer day. The weather outside was awful, even for Gotham City. And it meant that Thomas was calmly playing inside, rather than getting up to some shenanigans in the garden.

His parents were home, it was one of those rare day they both had off.

Which always filled little Tommy with joy. It wasn’t often he could get them both with him !! In the end, the fact it was rainy outside was good. It meant they’d probably all snuggle up later in the day, and watch a film, a mug of hot cocoa in their hands.

You would probably throw a blanket over him, and keep him close, sandwiched between you and his dad. His father would fall asleep half-way through the film, which would annoy you and Damian.

Damian would join for sure. Sitting next to you. Yes. He would. Maybe Tim too, if he wasn’t too busy with college ? Oh he would surely make the time to come. And Cass ? Yes. Yes Cass would be there, sitting in her usual spot, on the floor right in front of you (or maybe Tommy). Because she knew you’d gently run your hand through her hair, and your youngest son slowly took the habit to do the same. Which was so soothing to Cass...Duke would certainly be there, he never said no to a good movie.

Maybe, because it was a rainy day, Dick and Jason would come too ? Unlikely, but Thomas could hope. He loved having his entire family in one spot.

They’d ask him to do his “puppy eyes” and convince Alfred to join them too, and not work.

Alfred had an armchair reserved just for him. Right next to the couch where Bruce would sit, leaving enough space for Ace to lay down (Damian’s dog, Titus, always preferred to be near his master, who would more often than not be sitting next to you, laying his head on your shoulder, even as he was not a child anymore...Yes, Titus sat next to Cass, at Damian’s feet, letting his head fall down in Cass’ laps).

Ace...Ace didn’t feel well yesterday, and this morning, the “dog doctor” came.

Thomas heard him say they needed to give him a...an “indection” or something ? (An injection, really) So he’d probably get better. Shots were supposed to get you better or to avoid you getting sick, that’s what you told him.

His dad looked upset, but it didn’t alarm Thomas much. Because his dad was always upset when him or his siblings would get a shot, he hated going, so it was probably the same thing.

Come to think of it, Thomas hadn’t seen Ace since the “vekerinarianan” (or whatever it was pronounced) came earlier in the day.

He suddenly wanted some “doggle” (dog cuddles), and so he put down the toys he was playing with, and went to look for him.

Maybe, he could also round up the rest of his family so they’d start movie time earlier ?

Hyped to have some family time, as he considered his dogs family for sure, he went on the hunt to find Ace, and gather everyone else.

If only. If only he had known...

************

“Aaaace !! Aaace ? Ace boy, where are you ?”

This was odd. Usually, Ace would come running if he heard the little one’s voice. That dog loved children, and he made it his mission to protect all of them (bonus point if he had some snuggle, and a few treats, while doing it).

Bruce told him long ago to protect his kids...So Ace was always there.

Maybe he wanted to play hide and seek ? Thomas would play that game with Titus and Damian, Ace never seemed very interested, but maybe he changed his mind ?

“Ace ? Aaaacceeee ?”

The boy roamed the manor, but every room Ace would usually hang in were empty.

Finally, he decided he’d ask his parents, who would usually hang out in...oh, they weren’t in their usual spot either. In their bedroom, maybe ?

Thomas ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, sure that he would find Ace, and his parents, asleep in the master’s bedroom. When they had their day off, his mama and daddy would often take long naps together.

Thomas immediately knew something was wrong when the door to the room was wide open. Slowly, he approached the place and...surely his parents were there.

But something was off.

His dad was laying in the bed, back to the door, his head laid in your lap. One of your hand was caressing his head soothingly, while the other was drawing calming circles on his back.

Definitely something was not normal. You’d do that to your kids when they were sad, or sick...Was daddy sick ?! This gave Thomas a little fright.

You whisper something into Bruce’s ears, and he doesn’t answer, just shaking his head to say “yes”. And so you stand up, after giving him a kiss on the cheek, and...You spot your youngest son.

You smiled at him reassuringly, and go to him.

“Hey little buddy. You should give a big hug to Daddy, he’s very sad today.”

You say, walking past him and ruffling his hair.

From the direction you were taking, you were going to the kitchen, and Thomas just instantly assumed you were going to brew some tea for his dad. When Bruce was sad, you’d always brew some tea for him, from his mother’s garden (which was kept up nice and clean by you and Alfred, now).

Worried about his dad, Thomas slowly walked to him and climbed on the big bed. Bruce turned around to see what this new weight was, as he knew you had just left and...He smiled.

Of this wide pure genuine smile he gave his family only.

But there was a hint of sadness behind his eyes, and Thomas didn’t like that one bit. So the little boy crawled to his dad, and nestled next to him, wrapping his little arms around his dad’s neck and holding tightly.

Bruce engulfed his son in his own arms, holding onto the little one, burrying his face in his hair. There was always something comforting, in the smell his kiddo had. It was a mix of your smell, which was always soothing to him, but also something more...Something soft and sweet.

Just like his son.

Little Thomas was the epitome of a sweet child. It was a miracle, a man like him made a child this cute and happy. Ah, but he wasn’t raising him alone of course. There was you, and his siblings, and Alfred...

After a pause of the little boy holding his dad, he whispered slowly :

“Daddy, why are you sad Daddy ? Please don’t be sad, it makes me sad too.”

Thomas unwrapped his arms from around his dad’s neck, and squished his little hands on Bruce’s cheeks. Which made Bruce sigh fondly, chuckling a little as he said, honestly (he shouldn’t hide this sort of things) :

“Because Ace is gone.”

There’s another silence, during which Thomas tries to understand why is the fact Ace went somewhere so sad. He cannot figure it out, so he asks :

“But, he’ll come back daddy. Like always. Yes ? Ace is a good boy.”

“Was.”

Bruce is clumsy in his grief. He always been. He’s not sure how to broach the subject to his son, how to explain to him their dog was just too old and sick to make it...He doesn’t know how to explain death to him.

“Was ?”

“Ace is gone for good.”

“What do you mean Daddy ? Where did he go ? Why couldn’t we see him again ? Did he move out, like Dick ?”

Oh. Oh the sweet innocence of a child that is maybe a little too sheltered by his family (he’s the youngest, the one they’re trying to keep away from the horror they see every day as much as they can...Although he’s still trained, all of them hope he will never become a Robin, or worst, a Batman).

“Did he move out, like Dick ?”

Sweet, sweet Thomas. Not able to even fathom that Ace is never coming back...and why would he ? How could he know what his father meant ?

“No, no he didn't move out. He left us, to a place we can’t follow him to.”

Another short pause. And you could see the gears in little Thomas’ head turning. After a little bit, he asks :

“...The toilets ?”

This makes his father chuckle, even in this sad times. But he continues :

“No. Not the toilets. He...He went really far away, where we can’t ever see him again.”

This idea is so foreign to your son, that he raises himself on one of his elbow and exclaims :

“Why would he do that ? Does he not love us anymore ?”

Obviously, the thought is distressing to the little bird. So Bruce says :

“No no no, of course he still loves us...loved, us. But he had to go.”

“But why ?”

“Because he was getting very old, and sick.”

“But we don't mind daddy, right ? We don’t mind ? He doesn't have to go away for that, I don’t care if he doesn’t play like he used to, I want him to stay ! Tell him daddy, call him on the phone to tell him to come back.”

Bruce is lost. How ? How can he explains what death means ? He thought about this moment coming many times, but never told him anything as he thought that he had time to know what it meant. He had time...

How do you tell a child that one of his favorite “person” in the world is dead ?

“Unfortunately buddy, we have some sad news.”

His savior. You, as usual. With two cups of tea, and a cup of hot cocoa on a tray. As you went downstairs to get some “pick me up” for Bruce, you knew your son was gonna need it too.

“What news mama ?”

“Ace. He died today.”

You actually thought about it as you were preparing everything for them. How to talk about this ? You decided to go with “honesty”. Not brutal honesty though. You weren’t about to traumatize your son.

But you thought it was important he knew what happened to Ace. As a child, you hated how your brothers tried to make you think your ferret ran away to Las Vegas or something of the like.

You understood this sentiment, of course. But you also remembered how betrayed you felt when you finally understood “death” and realized your beloved Mister Will Ferret was NOT in Sin City having fun, but just died...

The truth was important.

Especially about such subjects.

Children weren’t dumb. And they had every right to know certain truth.

Did you wish your son could stay innocent for longer ? Of course. But he still had a right to know what happened to his dog. To be treated like a person and be explained things.

People, too often, treats children as some kind of idiots who wouldn’t comprehend complex things anyway, and who have to be protected at all cost from anything...

Kids were clever. You had a bunch of them to prove it so. But above that, although you agreed kids had to be protected...You weren't one of those person who thought you should lie to your children in order to do so.

Because one day, he’ll know what death is. He’ll know what happened to Ace. And what if the fact you lied that day, settles a slight distrust in him towards anything you’ll ever tell him ? Just like it did with you and your brothers ?

No. You thought at first it was a good idea to delay such a conversation. But why ? Because it would make you more comfortable ? That didn’t sound very fair in regard of your boy.

Everyone always talked about “the birds and the bees” talk, but never about something that was even more inescapable than that...

Death.

You give him a few seconds to take in your words. “Ace died today.” You wait for his reaction. He seems to think about it, having vaguely heard of “death” before...finally he asks :

“What does it mean ?”

He’s sitting up in the bed now. Bruce did the same, encircling his arms around his boy protectively (old habits die hard). But he’s determined to explain things to him too. You and Bruce were always rather in sync, about how you should raise your children.

“It means he will no longer be with us. He passed away to something else.”

“To what ?”

“No one really knows.”

“Will we see him again ?”

“No.”

“Why ?”

“Because he’s dead.”

“And being dead means you can’t see anyone anymore ?”

“Being dead means you are not living on this Earth anymore, so yes, you cannot see them anymore.”

“It means we can’t see him ? And what do you mean not on Earth ? Is he in Space ? Can we see him if we go to the watchtower ?”

“I mean in our life, we will not see Ace again. He won’t be with us ever again. He’s not in space, he’s just gone.”

“Because he’s dead ?”

“Because he’s dead.”

“So, being dead means we don’t get to see someone ever again ?”

“Yes.”

“Ever ever ?”

You decide to leave any conversations about a possible after-life aside, as it’s clear this, he’s not quite old enough to comprehend. So you keep on talking about the truth, with the support of Bruce.

“Yes. Ever ever.”

It takes Thomas a few minutes to take in all those new informations. Bruce is sitting on the bed, legs crossed, behind the boy. And your son is clearly lost in deep thoughts...Up until finally, finally tears are starting to well up in his eyes.

“But I didn’t even say goodbye !”

“Unfortunately, we don’t always get to say goodbye...”

“But mama, how will he know I loved him so much if I didn’t even say goodbye before he left ? How could you let him go before I did ?”

“I’m sorry, if I could chose I would’ve-...He knew you loved him and-”

“Are you going to die too ?!”

The dreaded question. Dreadest of them all, really. But you can’t lie to him. Not now that you started to explain things.

“Yes. Everyone dies one day.”

“But but but...but I don’t want you to die ! And Daddy ?”

Bruce nods, and...and that’s when it finally happens.

The awful moments your sweet innocent boy realizes what death sort-of means. That one day, none of his parents will be in his life anymore. Than one day, he’ll lose his siblings, and Alfred.

Just like he lost Ace. Because he was “old and sick”. But...Thomas knew a lot of sick people ! And a lot of old people ! Were they going to die too, without him being able to say goodbye ?!

And so the tears started to fall. And oh, oh did they fall.

Bruce held his son against his heart, drawing soothing circles on his back, just like you usually do. And you came to sit next to them, encircling them in your arms as well.

Thomas was trying to talk, but nothing came out very clearly as he cried, cried, cried and cried some more.

When he finally calmed down, he was slowly falling asleep, crying drained him of all his energy. That night, there was no “movie time”, but comforting snuggles with his parents...

Thomas had finally discover what “Death” meant.

************

“Oh my God Thomas !”

Bruce’s heart drops.

The entire scene goes in slow motion, and the fearless Batman can see his entire life flash in front of his eyes, as his tiny son is running towards him, while a few thugs were about to shoot automatic weapons at him...

“There’s a kid ! There’s a kid !”

“Who cares, we have the bat right at our mercy, just shoot !”

“I can’t shoot a kid...”

“Should we shoot ?”

The few seconds of surprise after Thomas bursted in allow Damian to swoop down, and to get rid of everyone. Slowly, a serious face on, your son walks to his dad and, solemnly, he says :

“This was too close, father. And...Thomas...”

“I know Damian, I know.”

Your little boy was inconsolable, clinging to his dad.

They didn’t even have to ask him how he got there. It was obvious he somehow snuck into the Batmobile (which wasn’t that much of a surprise, although it was already quite a feat...Thomas was small, but also very stealthy, as he was taught to be).

He was only five, and it wasn’t really clear to him yet his dad was that “Batman” everyone talked about, that his siblings were also vigilantes...But he knew that when they went out at night, they were often in danger.

And that night. That night right after the one Thomas learned what Death was...He snuck in the car, so he would make sure “she” would not take her dad away ! Or her brothers and sister !

Only Damian and Bruce were in the car, on patrol together. The rest of the kids were scattered across the city, and you were taking care of the bat computer (nowadays you were the one doing so to give some relief to Alfred).

Thomas took the habit to fall asleep in the cave, in a bed there just for him...and he must’ve snuck into the car.

It was nobody’s fault. It was very unlike the boy, to do such a thing.

He got into the car. When Damian and his father got out of it to apprehend a few of Two-Face’s thug, he stayed behind, looking at what they did...but when he saw those men about to shoot his dad (a proper ambush), he jumped out, punching every buttons (which was quite dangerous itself) to find which one opened the door, and then he ran to his dad...

The surprised probably saved Bruce. But it also almost killed him with a heart attack.

What if those men didn’t hesitate long enough for Damian to take care of them ? What if they shot anyway, ignoring the surprising appearance of a small child ? What if they had recognize who that kid was, too ? (Unlikely, this was a time where Thomas was still quite sheltered from media, as you tried to give him a childhood as normal as you all possibly could).

What if they shot anyway...

Bruce doesn’t think he would’ve survived the death of his youngest son. He was sure, actually, that he would’ve killed those men.

That is, if Damian didn’t do it first.

But it didn’t happen. It didn’t happen, but it was so close. So close.

Later, when everything calmed down, Thomas would explain he jumped in the car to “keep death away”, to protect his daddy and brother. To make sure Death wouldn’t take them.

And that's when you all understood Ace’s death, and the discovery that everyone dies one day, one way or another, truly was “traumatic” for your baby.

From that point on, you made sure that Thomas would be in the cave...but this event. This event really unfolded a problem you knew you’d have to tackle truly one day.

You just had no idea yet how to help your son.

************

Damian had told Jason the debacle that was yesterday. About his parents explaining to their little brother what it meant to be dead. And about how it lead to Thomas sneaking into the Batmobile and running in front of danger to “protect” his dad.

Because of where he grew up, Damian always knew what death meant. And he never cared much (or convinced himself he never cared much). He understood from a very young age what all this shenanigans was...

Jason did too. He found his mother, dead, when he was three years old. He grew up surrounded by death, in the gutter of Gotham. He knew. He did.

But Thomas.

Thomas was a “normal” 5 years old boy, as normal you can be in such a family. He trained a little, and sort of knew about his dad being “Batman” (but it seemed he didn’t understand he was ACTUALLY the Batman people talked about in the city).

He spend most of his nights in a little area made just for him, with a bed and such, in the batcave (he hated sleeping upstairs alone, so he would sleep in the batcave and you’d pick him up to bring him in his bed once you’d go to bed, and/or once the rest of your family would get home).

So for a little one like Thomas, who was pure and sweet and nice...It was a shock, to know one day he’d lose the people he loved.

He was inconsolable, at Ace’s funerals (thrown at the back of the Manor).

He couldn’t get over the fact he didn’t get to say goodbye, and that he would never play with his dog anymore.

It made it worst, that Ace’s death made everyone else sad. That dog truly was a member of the family...

“I know you're feeling very sad. I'm sad, too. We all loved Ace so much, and he oved us, too.”

You told him a few times, tryin to put words on his emotions and helping him understand...God, to Damian, you truly were the most amazing mother. Always knew what to say, how to say it, when to say it.

But Thomas was still blue, and it was so unlike his usual bubbly personality.

And so, both Damian and Jason made it their mission to distract their little brother, and...it worked. For the most part. It really worked.

Amongst all his siblings, Damian and Jason were the ones that loved having a little brother the most. Not that the others didn’t, of course ! They just were a little less willing to play for hours on end with a little kid.

They were rather busy. Jason and Damian always found ways...They were an unlikely pairs at first glance. Most people would think Damian was the closest to Dick, and Jason too. But no. They were equally as close to all their siblings, in different ways.

But Damian and Jason, they had an extra connection. Jason was there, when Damian was a baby. He didn’t remember his own name, and was used by the Al’Ghuls after they resurrected him...But he was still one of the only person in Damian’s life that truly valued him.

Fate, right ? A funny thing. After all, how small did the world have to be for two of Bruce’s sons to meet in such a way ? A hidden son, and one he thought dead, at that ?!

In any case. They were closer than most would think. And they also were linked not only by the Al’Ghuls, but by how they were both ripped off of an actual childhood, and therefor wanted to make sure their little brother had one too (Cass was the same, but more subtle, and discreet).

And so...

They played, made art pieces, jigsaw puzzles, watched his favorite movies, cooked...Anything to take his mind off of “Death”.

That little boy would overthink too much, for such a young age.

But overall, Damian and Jason did a good job distracting him from the pain.

They did an amazing job.

You were so proud of how they took care of their baby brother (and it would give yourself more time to go cheer up the “Oldest Wayne”, your dear husband, who definitely had a hard time getting over his dog’s death...).

Only, there was one problem...And that problem was that neither Damian nor Jason, just like everyone else, were immortal.

And this, this, Thomas would realize very soon.

************

“More compresses, Master Tim !”

“On it Al !”

The loud noises woke Thomas up. You knew. You knew you should’ve gone up to bed earlier. Tuck him in, and wait for your family to come back.

Ah. But when they all arrived in the cave, ALL of them, including Dick who did not live at the manor anymore...You knew there was a problem.

And indeed. Jason had been badly hurt. Not something that couldn’t be fixed, but ah, once again, too damn close.

Everyone was on the tail of a high profile serial killer, the newcomer called “Dr Pyg”, and...Collateral damage. It happened, in this line of work.

It wasn’t easy. Especially when it was one of your baby. But you had to keep a leveled head, as you helped Alfred fix your boy.

You had taken medical trainings early in in your relationship with Bruce. For obvious reasons. And there was rarely a day it didn’t come in handy.

In any case, all the noises around woke Thomas up.

Before. Before he knew what death truly meant, he would’ve been worried. He would've cried. He would’ve been distressed. Of course.

And one of his siblings would’ve taken care of him, reassure him, soothe and console him, and little Thomas would be ok again.

Before he knew what death truly meant.

He was so small anyway, most of the time he’d forget things, or just not understand them...but he was five now. Close to the age of reason. And definitely aware of his surroundings enough now to pay attention, and remember things.

And he knew what death truly meant.

He clung to Jason for dear life, even as everyone reassured him he was actually ok. Jason himself was conscious, he had been badly hurt but nothing he hadn’t seen before.

He needed some rest for sure, but it was fine, really.

It wasn’t fine for Thomas. He yelled, threw the biggest tantrum he ever threw, yelled some more that they should stop. That he didn’t want them to die. That whatever they were doing...He begged them to stop.

Never before in your life, had any of you witness Thomas being in such a state. He was inconsolable. You couldn’t calm him down, no matter what...

And once more, it’s only because of exhaustion that he finally relaxed. But yet, still in his sleep, he clung to Jason’s sleeve, as if afraid his brother would be gone when he’d wake up.

It tore yours and Bruce’s heart apart, to see your baby like this. But to be honest...neither of you knew what to do...

************

“Where’s Damian mama ? Where is he ?”

Thomas was truly panicked.

The first day, he thought maybe his brother was busy with school and such. The second day, he started to worry. But now ? Three days in a row with Damian not at the dinner table ? Or in his room ? Or in the batcave ?!

It made Thomas anxious. What happened to his brother ? Was he...was he...DID DEATH TAKE HIM AWAY ?

“Where’s Dami mama ? Where is he ?!” Thomas kept asking, crying. And it took you moment to finally realize what your son must’ve thought. When you did, you picked him up and calmed him down, explaining Damian was simply over at Jon’s for a few days...

And from that day on, you’d make sure to tell him why anyone would be gone for any amount of time.

That night, Bruce and you talked about what you could do to help Thomas get over his consuming fear of losing one of you.

But nothing really came to your minds.

And it was awful, to feel like a failure like that.

Later on, your Damian would tell you you were NOT failing at parents because you were a little lost about this. After all, none of your other kids got into quite a crisis like this one. He said maybe considering a therapist could do ? But oh, oh Thomas was so little.

And if words were out that Thomas Wayne, barely five years old, was seeing a therapist ? The scandals would be unending, and would it really help your son ?

Damian joined in in the search for a way to soothe his baby brother. He never said “no” to cuddles from him, but lately...Lately, Thomas almost became overbearing, as he made sure he’d always sort of have his eyes on everyone.

And it wasn’t healthy, for such a little boy to worry so much.

Damian missed his carefree baby brother. He knew he had to eventually grow up, of course, and that he’d have some hardships but...he was just five and a half ! He wasn’t suppose to be so scared of death !

And so he thought, nights and days, of a way to soothe him. But just like you and Bruce, this matter was quite delicate...

************

It seemed like Cass was the only one able to truly console him, and make him relax. She would sing him songs, just like you did to her when she felt sad.

She would tell him tales of Death as a good thing, inspiring herself from many legends from around the world.

She would try to put perspective on everything, in a way you truly admired.

She never spoke too much, your Cass...But when she did, every words were carefully chosen and crafted into truly beautiful things.

And it would soothe your boy.

But only as long as he was with Cass. And he couldn’t always be with her.

You didn’t have her talent to tell those tales, and your singing was working only for a few moments to put him to sleep but...you couldn’t always have him sleep. You had to think of more viable options.

Nonetheless, when Thomas was really too anxious, Cass would be there.

Relieving everyone of their worry, as she could calm her baby brother in matter of seconds. In those moments, you wished time could stop. You truly did...

************

Thomas would cling to you and his dad the most. His siblings were often out and about, but you two ? Well you took some time off to be with your youngest son, to be there for him in this odd times...

And you weren’t sure it was such a good idea, in the end.

He would often just snuggle up to you or Bruce, listening to your heartbeats, which would calm him...You’d normally never say no to hugs from your children. But this was all starting to become so unhealthy for the little one.

What could you do ? What could you do ?!

************

Duke was panicking.

Thomas was doing fine today, and Duke felt like he royally fucked up.

Thomas was worried about Duke, telling him to be careful and that his heart would break if Duke ever died...Which melted Duke’s heart.

It made him feel so loved and accepted. And he wanted to help little Thomas so much...

That’s when he made a rookie mistake.

After all, he was still quite new at this “big brother” thing.

“There are things worst than death.”

Is what he told him. What was he thinking ? Reflecting on things, Duke realized he didn't think it through. To him, it was a soothing way to say death wasn’t that bad. But...Ah, ah it made Thomas cry.

“What ? What is worst than not seeing you guys ever again ?!”

At that moment, Duke hadn’t realized quite yet how much he fucked up. So he said : “Well, my parents can't remember me, can’t remember who they are...They’re not dead, but they’re not here anymore. They’re physically here, but they don’t know me, they don’t know how to hug me, they can’t be my parents anymore...Yet they’re still alive.”

The horrified look on Thomas’ face is what gave him a hint that this really wasn’t a good thing to say...

“No no no wait Thomas, don’t cry please, I was trying to tell you...Wait Thomas, please, no. Oooh buddy, buddy I’m so sorry.”

It almost made Duke cry too, to witness the one he considered his little brother in such distress. He wasn’t trained for this ! He wasn’t trained for this !!!

This was the first time Duke truly felt like an older brother, truly felt like he understood this important role. He had to think before saying something. He had to protect his baby brother. He had to find ways to soothe him...

“Ok here we are, here we are everything is a-okay, you’re ok, things will be ok...”

Duke picked Thomas up, and started to rock him back and forth slowly, just like his own mom did to him...He mixed the way his mom used to put him to sleep, with your soothing singing. With words he borrowed from you.

“I’m here, I’m here. Don’t worry I’m here, I won’t go anywhere. Things will be ok baby boy, things will be ok. You’re gonna be ok. I’m not going anywhere. I didn’t mean any of it...”

Duke had been living with you for a while now. He came to see all of you as his second family, even as his parents were still alive, and a constant chain holding him back at times...a chain that broke right at this moment.

Thomas was his little brother. He truly was.

And Duke was determined to be there for him. Especially after he made him cry.

“It’s ok Tommy, cry all you want. It’s ok to cry. It’s ok to cry.”

You always told him that. It was ok to cry. To be angry. To want to break everything. To want his mom...

But you were his mom too now. You were. And you had such a way with words. Such a soothing touch. Even as he was grown up now, you always knew what to say. You always did.

“You’re ok, right ? Yeaaaah you’re ok. See, things are fine, we chill, we chill.”

Duke was slowly swaying from left to right, Thomas in his arm, slowly lulling him to sleep, calming him down. His voice seemed to have the same effect than yours...Because he was calm. And because he meant it.

The love.

The love he had for this little boy.

It poured out of him, easily, naturally.

He loved that kid so much. And he wanted him to be ok. And it seemed like Thomas ? Thomas felt it. He felt the love. Just like Duke felt the love of all of you...

That little bean put himself in such a state at the mere thought of Duke dying, of one of his brother leaving...And Duke. Duke realized he felt the same.

Couldn’t imagine any of them dying.

And so he poured love in his every word, and swayed from side to side, calming Thomas, and making sure he knew...He knew that, he was right there.

Right there.

************

“You’re getting old, Alfred.”

You said jokingly, as you beat him at chess. And oh. Oh what a mistake you just did.

“Old ? I don’t want you to die Alfred, I don’t !”

Thomas was playing next to you. You hadn’t thought about his “trauma” for a little while as he seemed to feel a little better lately...But oh, he plunged right back into it there.

Because of you. You felt absolutely awful...

“I’ll fight Death for you Alfred ! I will ! I won’t let her take you !!”

It took a while, as it became usual now, to calm him down. He was ready to throw hands with Death. Fierce that no one would take his “grandpa”. But he was still very scared and sad...

“I’m a terrible mother...”

You told Bruce that night. And he held you against him, consoling you, saying it wasn’t your fault and that it was just friendly banter with Alfred as usual...

“You are the literal opposite of a terrible mother, my love.”

“But Broosh, I made him- I-”

You sniff, unable to control your sobs as you remember your poor little boy holding Alfred and yelling at Death she can’t take him. The poor butler himself didn’t even know how he could do anything to calm him down...

“We’ll find a solution my love, we’ll find a solution...”

This entire night, Bruce stayed up although he was exhausted, so he could soothe you and take care of you. Skipping patrol (knowing though the city was safe with his children out).

At some point during the night, Thomas came to your room.

It was often, lately, that after a nightmare he’d come running to you. His nightmares would often be about losing you...

You had finally fallen asleep, in your husband’s arms, and Bruce gestured to your boy to not make too much noice.

Sweet little Thomas acquiesced, and slowly came to the bed, taking the hand his father gave him.

Bruce was about to fall asleep too, knowing you had finally found sleep...But now, he wasn’t going to. Not until he made sure his son was asleep as well.

All he could do for now, was being there for you two. Try to soothe you as best her could. As best he could...

Sleep was restless and full of nightmares.

************

Dick would try to often visit his parents and siblings. As much as he could, which wasn’t always easy, with his work in Bludhäven. But nothing is more sacred than family...He realized that over the years.

During those moments, it would be rather normal for Thomas to go settle in his oldest brother’s laps. He would make the most of seeing him.

So today, as Dick was in the kitchen trying to make himself a cup of coffee, it was no surprise when little Tommy came to see him.

You had bought a new espresso machine, and Dick had no idea how it worked...Slowly, his littlest brother came in, dragged a chair next to him, and used it to climb on the counter.

He then started to make Dick’s cup of coffee, without much of a word being exchanged. Dick smiled widely, his little bro was so cute and clever. In no time, he had make a great cup of coffee for him.

But...Something seemed to bother him. Tommy was an exuberant child when around his family, but he had been quiet right there. He didn’t jump in his brother’s arms like he usually does, and he wasn’t telling him all about what he missed since last time he came in !

Was it still this all thing about being worried about death ?

“Are you ok little wing ?”

Ever since Jason, “Little Wing” or “Bird” became the common denomination for his younger siblings. A term of endearment that they all (secretly or not) loved.

Tommy seemed to think a little, while raising his arms, signifying he wanted Dick to pick him up.

Dick did, of course, and they went to sit at the kitchen counter, and as usual, Tommy settled down on Dick’s laps. He turned around and, after another short pause (Dick always knew when to stay silent, and wait for the other person to speak first) said :

“Dickie, are mom and dad not your mom and dad ?”

“Mm ?”

“Your real mom and dad, they died ? You can’t see them no more now ?”

There was a lump in Dick’s throat. Not because he thought about his parents no. He actually came to peace with their death long ago now. And though he missed them every day, it didn’t hurt as much as it used to.

He was lucky to find another loving family...From which that little worried kiddo in front of him was an important part of.

“Yes, I can’t see them anymore.”

“It hurts ?”

“It used to. Now less. I miss them, but I wasn’t alone.”

“Because you have our mom and dad ?”

“Yes.”

Dick ruffles his hair fondly.

“Do you wish you’d still have your real mom and dad ?”

“Mom and dad ARE my real parents too. I was lucky enough to find new ones. Not everyone is as lucky, like dad. He was alone for a long time”

“What about Alfred ?”

“It took dad a while to realize that Alfred was a second father to him”

“So...Will you be my second dad if dad goes ?”

Dick feels another lump in his throat. Bigger this time.

He couldn’t even imagine the day he’ll lose this “second dad”, this one he had now called “dad” for longer even than his own biological father...Dick was 8, when he came into yours and Bruce’s life.

He spend more years with you two than with his “real” parents. You never replaced them, no. You just..became his parents too.

He would never forget his biological parents. But he would never diminish the impact his adoptive one had. The love you and Bruce gave him.

Would he be good enough to be Thomas “second dad” ? After all, he currently had about the age Bruce had when he adopted him...

But Dick couldn’t imagine losing Bruce too. Losing another father. No. He couldn’t. He couldn’t.

Thomas was already moving on, asking more questions :

“Will I find another mom and dad too if mom and dad die ? Or will I be alone like dad ? Will I have Alfred forever ?”

“I-I don’t know buddy.”

“What if I lose all of you at the same time ? I will be all alone then.”

“You won’t.”

“But what if I do ?”

“I’ll always be there.”

“You can’t know that, can you ?”

“Maybe, but this will never happen. You will never be alone.”

“You really think so ?”

“I Do. And I promise little wing, I promise...You won’t lose all of us. You won’t.”

Dick held his brother even tighter against him, and missed the unconvinced expression on Thomas’ face.

************

Your youngest son was still utterly terrified of losing any of you. But his terrible fit would pass now, he would calm down more easily, and wouldn’t cry until exhaustion...But it didn’t mean he wasn't afraid anymore.

Unfortunately.

“Death” was still a constant on his mind. One of the biggest question. Without much answers.

His mother and father said no one knew what happened after “death”, but Thomas wasn’t convinced. So he went to the only one he knew would tell him the truth, and was most likely to know...Tim.

His older brother was currently in the garden, studying for his finals. But oh he’d take a break for his little brother, of course.

Especially lately, as said little brother was overly worried and needed constant reassurance.

“Hi Timmy.”

“Hey little one.”

“Bothering you ?”

“You are not bothering me, never.”

“Can I ask you a question then ?”

“Of course.”

“What happens when we die ?”

Oof.

OOOOF.

Not something Tim could say he expected to be asked. Even as he knew Thomas was sort of obsessed with this lately. And ah...Ah he started to get lost into physiological effects of death, into science, into things Thomas could definitely not understand...

And into things he didn’t care about.

Thomas had no interest in knowing what happens to the corporeal side of things. To our bodies. He wanted to know where “we” went. Where the being went. The conscience.

Of course he wouldn’t word it that way, but it was easy to understand that it was what he meant when he said : “where do we go when we die ?”.

After a long time of Tim getting lost in many complex explanations about decomposition (what the Hell Tim ?), he finally stopped as he saw that Thomas was most definitely lost.

“Where do we go after we die ?”

“Yes. What happens ? You must know, you know everything !”

The faith his littlest brother put in him made him feel warm inside but...unfortunately on this subject he had to disappoint him.

“I..I don’t know about this, actually.”

Thomas looked crestfallen. Was nothing sacred anymore ?? Death existed, and the one he thought would always have a solution to everything didn’t know something that important !!

“There’s many theories.”

“What’s a theories ?”

“One theory, multiple theories. A theory is...an idea of how things might work.”

“What are the theory ?”

“Theories, plural.”

“What are the theories ?”

“Well. Some people think that you go into some kind of afterlife. It depends the culture, and the religion, and...many other factors. But there’s usually a few places we can end up.”

“And we’ll see the people who died there ? We’ll see them again ?”

“Supposedly so.”

“Is it sure ?”

“No, it’s just a theory.”

“You said a theory is an idea of how things might work.”

“An idea that might not be proven.”

“What’s the point then ?”

“Theorizing.”

“I don’t understand...”

Of course he didn’t, he was a smart little boy...But still just five. Tim sat down to his level, and looked at him in the eyes :

“Well. You have to understand that um...No one knows what happens after death. So we have to make theories, things that might or might not be. You understand ?”

“No.”

“Well, since we don’t know, we make things up. But maybe those things are right. Maybe they aren’t.”

“So the answer is we don't know ?”

“Yes. But there are theories ?”

“Ok. So aside from the place we see others again, what are the theories ?”

“Well (...)”

Tim was a patient boy. For hours and hours, he tried to explain every single “theory” people might’ve had about what happens after Death. And Thomas listened carefully.

Finally, Tim was done, and his brother said :

“So...No one really knows, and there’s a lot of theory...ies. Theories.”

“Basically.”

Thomas looked so discouraged. Tim was very well aware that none of what he told him really helped his brother, or reassured him...But ah. Tim was known to not lie. Which was a good thing. And he couldn’t possibly have a free conscience if he had told his brother just one theory of the after life, the nicest one, just to reassure him.

Of course, he wanted to reassure him. To distract him. But he would do so another way. Lying to him was not it.

Still, it was so disheartening to see this sweet little boy so crestfallen.

“Um, Well...I guess some people know.”

Thomas looked up at his brother, hopeful, waiting for him to continue.

“Like Constantine. But um, he’s sort of crazy. And dad doesn't want him around the house for...reasons you’ll understand when you’ll grow up. And-”

Ah but Thomas wasn’t listening to Tim anymore, and his monologue as to why maybe John Constantine wasn’t such a reliable source.

“Constantine” huh ? Interesting. Ah. Sometimes, Tim forgot how smart his little brother truly was...for a five years old. And how he took after his father, when it came to memory and attention to details.

************

This constant worry went on for quite just a few days. A few very eventful days, that were so...exhausting. Thomas was constantly scared for your lives, and would cry if anyone got hurt too much.

He would follow you around, and be way too stressed for such a little bean.

Everyone came to hide their injuries from him, tried to distract him from what they were doing when out as the Bats...But it was becoming a real problem.

How ? How could they make a little five years old understand that he couldn’t forever be afraid of death ? It was impossible. None of you, not even you, had the right words. There were no right words anyway.

You could tell him whatever you wanted, it’d never make him stop thinking about Death taking one of you with her, taking one of you far away from him.

“A place he cannot follow you to.”

How ? How could you help ?!

But the change had to come from within him, you would soon realize.

About a week after Ace’s death, and a truly painful few days of everyone being lost and unable to help the baby of the family... he suddenly spoke up, at dinner time :

“Mama, mama, if one day you die, I will bring you back. I promise. Same for daddy, and Dick, and Jason, and Cass, and Tim, and Duke, and Damian, and Alfred. I don’t know if we can bring dogs back, but humans yes ? And worst case scenario, I’ll conjure your spirit so I can say goodbye, and then I’ll know we’ll see each others again !”

“Wh-What ?”

“Stunned” doesn’t quite cover how you felt at your son’s sudden tirade, at dinner that night. Everyone was here, a rare occasion. Your one dinner a months that was mandatory for all your kids ! To make sure you’d all have moments together.

And boom. Came this monologue out of nowhere, from your small little five and a half years old son.

Stunned. Not a strong word enough to describe you, or your other children.

But Bruce. Oh Bruce. Bruce was frowning. Narrowing his eyes in a way you knew perfectly well...It meant he was angry at someone.

“Who told you all this, son ?”

“Mister Constantine.”

A growl. A scary growl. From deep within your husband’s throat. You would NOT want to be John next time he’d see

“How did you talk to him ?”

“I used your phone.”

“I don’t have his number on my...Wait, the bat phone ?!”

“Yes. The one you call uncle Clark on !”

“What the-...how did you-ugh ?!”

There were so many questions. So many.

“I copied what you do, on the phone. And I asked it if it could call the Constantine.”

“The Constantine”, this better not be a stupid way he called himself in front of his son, Bruce thought. Ah, and curse the fact he kept having kids that were too damn smart for their own good !

Kids this days. Growing up with technology. Able to work a batphobe at age 5 and a half !!

“Hope I helped little man - John Constantine”, said the note that came to the manor a few days later. Which made Bruce fume with rage, but Thomas beam happily.

Bruce was already planning to go after John, and force him to say what he told his son. But...But...

To be honest. Whatever he said. You didn’t care. You knew, more than anyone else, that “Death” wasn’t as definitive as it sounded at times. And you knew for certain there was something after you died. What ? You couldn’t be sure. But something. Another place. Or maybe reincarnation ? Who knew.

Deep in your heart though, you knew that no matter what, if you ever were to die...You’d see your family again. You weren’t sure how or where. It was just a certainty in your heart. A gut feeling.

Yes. You didn’t care what John told your son. If it could help him accept that everyone will die one day. Didn’t mean he wasn’t afraid of losing you anymore. Oh no. But at least...At least he knew worrying about it lead nowhere. And to truly enjoy the moments of the present.

Whatever John said, it helped your son. That’s all that mattered. And as Thomas would grow up, you knew he’d understand things more and more.

He already knew he was luckier than many people. He had a loving family. They were all there with him for now (minus Ace, whom he missed every day). A lot of people couldn’t say the same thing.

Death was an odd thing. Especially in the World you lived in.

It wasn’t as definitive as some would say.

Your family knew that more than anyone else.

Death was an odd thing, that wasn’t always the ultimate end...

This, one day, Thomas would truly understand.

The end

__________________________________________________

And here we are :). Just a quick thing again, my bigger story (fake boyfriend trope with Bruce hehe) is coming soon. But in the mean time, felt compelled to write about this. I hope you enjoyed reading it, and liked it ? Not my best work :/, another quick drabble written very late at night eh. But nonetheless, fun to write ? Hope it’s not a disappointment, it’s just a thing to make ya wait for a more elaborate thing that I took a lot of care writing. Anyway it’s 4 am, time for bed :).

If you did, don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback or/and to reblog :). If you didn’t as well really, it’s always good to know what’s not good so I can improve (just stay civil please).

PS : Bonus point if you get where I’m trying to arrive at with those last few words about how definitive death is :p.

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miraculouspenta · 3 years

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Your Name, My Name

...I wrote this fic to bribe @nyx-in-line to sleep... (I mean, it did work)

Masterlist

What would you do if one day instead of writing your name on your exam paper you write someone else's? Erase it, rewrite, right? The thing is, no matter how many times you try to change it, it always ends up the same. It's not your name written, but a random person's. You would probably freak out. Could you have forgotten how to write your name? Or was someone unknowingly controlling your body? Well, you wouldn't if you were in this universe. In this universe, it is very much normal if you write someone's name unconsciously thinking it's your own you are jotting down. But why? Simplest answer? Soulmates. The name you would've written down, would be your soulmate's. Of course, this only happens after you turn 16 but it won't stop until you meet your soulmate… or your soulmate dies... Yeah, let's hope for the first option. With that information in your head, let me tell you the story of how this power couple met.

6 years, it's been six years since his mother dropped him at his father's doorstep. And in those six years Damian Wayne couldn't believe how much he's changed. Physically, he is much taller, he has a broader chest, and a deeper voice. Mentally, he no longer has the urge to kill, he does whatever he can do to avoid it. Emotionally, he feels love, happiness even though he doesn't show it. And now on his sixteenth birthday he is actually excited to be dragged around by Grayson. Apparently Dick had other plans.

"Happy birthday, Damian!" Dick shouted as the younger boy descended down the stairs to the dining room. "Thank you, Grayson," Damian replied. Breakfast went on as normal, added by a couple of hugs and birthday wishes. But normalcy can only last so long in the Wayne household. "So…’Dick dragged out, "You excited to figure out your soulmate's name?" Damian blinked. "What is a 'soulmate'," he said, putting quotations around the word. Everyone at the table stared. 'You don't know what a soulmate is?' Their looks screamed. Finally, Bruce answered, "A soulmate would be someone who is destined to be by your side. It could be a platonic bond or a romantic bond." Damian nodded as a sign that he understood then continued, "And how do you discover your soulmate's name?" The whole family gave him the basic rundown even though they were still reeling in from the shock that Damian didn't know about soulmates.

After breakfast, they all gathered in the living room. There was a pile of gifts all wrapped up and addressed to Damian. After opening them one by one and making notes on who he needs to thank later, someone shoved a pen and paper into his hands. "So? What are you waiting for? Write your name!" Steph said enthusiastically. (Alfred was recording, shh, it's a secret) Damian did just so and on the paper was soon written in neat handwriting the words Marinette Dupain-Cheng. 'Ms. Dupain-Cheng, you must be an angel if the universe decided to pair you with me.'

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A couple of days later, across the ocean, a Marinette Dupain-Cheng had just also turned 16. As soon as she woke up, she rushed down to find her parents who wished her a happy birthday as soon as they saw her. "Maman, Papa, do you have paper? I want to know who my soulmate is," the girl asked her parents. Marinette's been waiting for this day her entire life! Well, except that year she had her first crush. That year she was worried. 'What if her crush isn't her soulmate?' But it fizzled out after a year, aside from that year she had been ecstatic.

Instead of plain white paper like she was expecting, her parents gave her a pink card decorated with ladybugs, since she had been obsessing over them for a good while, along with a glitter pen and a frame. "It's the first time you're writing their name sweetheart, it needs to be special," her mother Sabine said. Marinette hugged her parents and took the items out of their grips. She set them on the table and began writing in faux calligraphy. Damian Wayne was written on the card. 'Well, Damian, I'm excited to meet you."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two years later, Marinette had applied for an exchange student program wanting to travel the world now that Hawkmoth isn't tying her to Paris. She ended up in Gotham, New Jersey and she had never been more grateful that she had taken up self defence when Hawkmoth showed up. Thanks to Jagged, she had a very comfortable place to live. And as for where, she would be living with her 'uncle'. Jagged, as a native Gothamite, had a mansion on the safe side of the city and it was by no means small. When Jagged mentioned his old friend Bruce Wayne, Marinette was intrigued. "Is he related to someone named Damian Wayne by any chance?" she asked.

"Damian Wayne? Of course, Damian is ol' Brucie's son!" Jagged answered her. She then proceeded to tell her self proclaimed uncle that her soulmate's name is in fact, Damian Wayne. The next thing you know Marinette is being dragged out to Jagged's car, well it was more of a limousine rather than a car, and he asked the driver to drive them to the Wayne Mansion as he dialed Bruce.

"Hello?" the voice from the other line came in. "Rock 'n Roll Brucie! I'm heading off to your place! And I've got my niece with me," Jagged said. "I'm not your niece Jagged!" Marinette said. As soon as she said that, a faint "It's contagious!" could be heard from the other side followed by a "Boys!" "Sure Jagged, I'll tell Alfred," Bruce said to his friend. "Thanks Bruce! See ya in a bit!"

Not even thirty minutes later, they pull up at the big mansion. An old gentleman introduced himself as Alfred before letting them enter. "Brucie!" Jagged raced to him and gave him a hug, "Ya look older than the last time I saw you. Anyway, this is my niece!" "I'm still not your niece, Jagged," the girl mumbled as she rolled her eyes, "Pleasure to meet you." The eldest Wayne child smiled brightly and introduced himself, "Hi! I'm Dick! This is Jason, Steph, Barbara, Tim, Cass, Duke, and that is-" "Damian, Damian Wayne," the youngest cut off. Marinette smiled and stuck her hand out to initiate a handshake.

"Why hello, Damian. My name is Marinette, Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

1087 words

I'm surprised that I wrote 1087 words tbh, my stories usually end with around 500 words. Oh, and I made this into an audiofic (it's my very first so don't expect it to be good). If the hyperlink doesn't work try this;

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ZI2S7_mU5o--CviVAi0-Ky3TUWcX1laJ/view?usp=sharing

XOXO ~𝓔𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓮𝓷

Permanent Taglist

@animegirlweeb @insane-fangirl-of-everything @nickristus-dreamer @miraculouslydumb

#daminette #damimari #maribat #maridami #damianette #damian x marinette #soulmates #soulmate au #audiofic

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thewaynemanner · 4 years

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Wholesome BatFamily Fic Rec’s

Hey All, so here is my BatFam Rec List you all have been asking for! Lol jk no one has asked for this, but I made it anyways! So here are my All-Time Favorite BatFamily Fic Recs, for the most part these Recs are all rated either “G” for General Audiences or “T” for Teen and Up Audiences. So basically, all these fics focus on family dynamics and relationships rather than slash or anything like that. These are all truly amazing fics so give your Kudos and love to the authors! And remember to always read the tags before you read the fic!

And So This is Christmas by DragOnstOrm

Summary: It's not that Alfred isn't happy with his job. It's just that sometimes he really wishes that he had known what he was getting into when he signed up for it.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1,901

My Comments: Folks, stories don’t get much more wholesome than this fic. After reading this fic I was left warm and happy. Also, it stars my boy, Alfie, which is usually extremely rare for fics. Loved that we got to see Alfred’s perspective in this! Great fic!

Bedside Manner by @fishfingersandjellybabies

Summary: Sometimes Bruce forgot just how great his kid was.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 2,985

My Comments: Anything @fishfingersandjellybabies writes is truly fantastic, but I particularly loved this one since it delved into the sweeter side of Bruce and Damian’s relationship that we don’t get to see often (especially in cannon). I love me a good hurt/comfort fic 😉

Bet on it by @lysical

Summary: Even Damian could admit that his older siblings occasionally had their uses.

"I need your assistance," Damian said, voice low and tense.

"No," Jason replied, and hung up.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 2,495

My Comments: Lysical writes some of the best BatBrother Fics out there, folks. So if you want some wholesome and hilarious Bat sibling bonding, then look no further! Bet on it, is one of my personal favorites of Lysical’s. Great writing and great characterization!

Blood in the Water by MishaBerry

Summary: We all do stupid things when we are lonely, and in faraway lands, we hardly expect the consequences to follow us. Bruce certainly never thought twice about an American woman in Jaipur after one night with her. He hardly expected to see her ever again.

The universe, on the other hand, had different ideas, and the tides of time and chance brought Tim Drake to Bruce's life over and over again.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 181,939

My Comments: FANTASTIC AU! One of my favorite Tim Drake centric fics, but still has plenty of the rest of the BatFamily. I also love that we get to see Tim as his sweet six-year self. This story has it all, great characterizations, good plot, angst, fluff, and BatFamily bonding 😊

Cracked Foundation by @cdelphiki

Summary: The last thing Damian expected to happen when he ran away from home was to spend a day crammed into a small space with Jason Todd. His father's second son was a black sheep. An outcast. An angry, insanity driven criminal who enjoyed screwing with the batfamily in every way he could. At least, that's what Damian thought. Maybe he was wrong about Todd.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 20,902

My Comments: This is a brilliant fic that examines the relationship between Damian and Jason. I absolutely loved this fic and never wanted it to end. I truly wish there were more Jason and Damian Fics out there, I think it’s a character duo that isn’t explored nearly enough. If you love Damian and Jason brother bonding fics, you’ll love this one and if you’ve never read a bonding fic between these two brothers, you may just find a new love!

Five Times Jason Todd Saved His Brothers, and One Time They Saved Him by laceymcbain, reena_jenkins

Summary: “Did you know I was in here, or did you just blow up the place for fun?”

Damian didn't need to see Todd's face to know he was grinning under the helmet.

“It's not really a rescue unless something blows up. But if Bats asks, it was completely necessary."

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 6,923

My Comments: This fic is BatFamily feels to the extreme. Jason Todd deserves love and this fic gives it to him. LOVED IT <3 <3 <3

Fly By Night by @lysical

Summary: Damian is thirteen. Sometimes he even acts like it.

"This is an injustice," were the last words Damian had spoken to his father all day.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 2,889

My Comments: Another great Fic by @Lysical! This is just a plain ol’ fun Fic, y’all. Great Bat Brother love in this one and it also features my sweet summer child- Jonathan Samuel Kent. Trust me you will love this Fic, it is hilarious and all around good stuff 😊

A Good Place by @lemonadegarden

Summary: Damian Wayne is kidnapped and sent back years through time. Together, he and Father – who's only been Batman for a mere six months –must figure out how to return him to his own time.

Over the course of the next week, Damian discovers that Mexican gangsters do not mess around, that social workers find Bruce annoying, that Bruce might be a little messed up, and that crystal chandeliers create the fondest memories.

Oh. And Alfred has hair.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 36,903

My Comments: LemonadeGarden is one of my All-Time favorite authors, so anything written by them is brilliant. But A Good Place will always be a favorite of mine, it is by far my favorite Damian & Bruce centric Fic out there and is something I have read over and over again. I love getting to see a younger Bruce interact with Damian and in turn, Damian interact with him. It’s overall great and has a fantastic plot!

Let There Be a Bruise by @audreycritter

Summary: Damian is a child who should not have the scars he does; Bruce is a father who has plenty of his own scars, but still wishes he could take his son’s, too.

The silver lining is where they find each other— a broken son and a broken father, putting each other back together.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 3,656

My Comments: Audreycritter is the master of Damián & Bruce Hurt/Comfort fics. I honestly would recommend all of Audrey’s fics, so check them all out! But this one will always be a favorite 😊

Life Happens by @cdelphiki

Summary: While walking home from an event at Wayne Enterprises, Tim and Damian are kidnapped and sent to an alternate dimension. In a world where superheroes are merely comic book characters and the idea of the multiverse is only a theory found within the pages of science fiction, how are Tim and Damian going to return home? How long will they be stranded on this strange Earth? And will the boys murder each other before they figure it out?

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 176,966

My Comments: Hoo-boy, folks. I don’t even know where to start with this Fic. I honestly get teary-eyed thinking about how beautiful it is and how much I loved this one. My favorite Tim Drake and Damian Wayne brotherly bonding Fic EVER. I would almost describe this Fic as a love letter to the characters Tim and Damian, in the sense that the author captures their characterizations beautifully and tells one of the best stories of growth and familial love I have ever read. It’s fluffy, angsty, humorous, and full of BatFamily feels. And don’t worry, there is plenty of Dick, Jason, and Bruce as well (If not a little later in the story). I would run to this Fic, if I were you.

Life, if Well Lived by CaptainOzone

Summary: Jason wakes up from a time-travel mishap to find Thomas and Martha Wayne hovering over him.

Just another day in the life, right?

...Not quite.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 10,758

My Comments: A Fic that destroyed me in the BEST way possible. Tears, so many tears were shed during this fic. The best Hurt/Comfort fic I have ever read. Extremely unique in the sense that Martha and Thomas Wayne are two of the main characters and boy did I love it! I can not stress how AMAZING this Fic is. I never knew I needed this fic in my life until I read it. I wish I could re-read it for the first time all over again. LOVE, LOVE, LOVE IT!

My Brother’s Keeper by Forever_A_Thief

Summary: The boy had two options, two roads stretching out before him: stay with Mother, and become the greatest assassin ever known to man, or go to Father, and become a masked vigilante fighting for justice in a city drenched in darkness. Damian looked at these two roads, these two lives he could lead, and decided on a third path for himself instead. He chose his own road.

Jason never let himself think about the kid he had left behind at the desert compound all those years ago. When Talia never got in touch with him after his return to Gotham, Jason had assumed he had just been forgotten like he had been in Gotham. But then that kid, his little brother, showed up one night and Jason couldn’t just continue to push him to the back of his mind. Not anymore.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 43,907

My Comments: Did I mention I love Jason & Damian fics? Well I do and this one is beyond FANTASTIC. Overall great Bat-Bros fic that I would recommend over and over again. This fic is Damian and Jason centric but it does involve the rest of the Bat Family too. I love seeing all the brother’s bonding in this fic and the overall family feels 😊

Of Owls and Assassins by Cirth

Summary: "Dick," Bruce says, not entirely sure how to react, "who is that?"

Dick blinks at him from his place on the workout mat. There's a broken plate with mac and cheese strewn all over next to him, as well as what seems to be Bruce's old G.I. Joe action figure from the attic. It looks like a child's imagining of a murder scene. "My owlet," Dick states.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 853

My Comments: The adorableness of this Fic is off the charts. I love AU’s where Dick is a Talon, but this one will always hold a very special place in my heart since Dick is just so pure in it. Forever a favorite <3

Party Games by @lemonadegarden

Summary: I can't believe you got into a bar fight at two in the morning. And now you're all in prison. The night before your wedding. What the fuck kind of a family am I marrying into?” Selina said.

Bruce Wayne goes to a series of bachelor parties, each one worse than the last. Set in the same timeline as We, So Much Older, but can be read as a standalone fic as well.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 12,659

My Comments: Okay, so technically this is a Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne Fic and even though the plot premise revolves around their upcoming wedding, I wouldn’t really consider this a “slash” fic. There is definitely more BatFamily vibes with this fic. It’s hilarious, fun, and oh so wholesome! I love this fic beyond measure and even if you aren’t a fan of the BatCat ship, I highly suggest you give it a shot for the amazing BatFam moments.

Second Chance by @cdelphiki

Summary: When Talia al Ghul watched her toddling son start his training, his awful, grueling training, she had an epiphany:

The League of Assassins was no place for children.

(Or: Talia realizes training literal babies is abuse and gets him out of there.)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 6,461

My Comments: This is the Talia al Ghul we deserve! This is the Talia al Ghul, Bruce Wayne deserves! THIS IS THE TALIA AL GHUL, DAMIAN WAYBE DESERVES! Loved this fic, great Talia al Ghul characterization. It’s the Talia that could have ben before DC slaughtered her character.

Running Headlong into My Arms by gleesquid

Summary: Bruce doesn’t like to credit one thing for saving his life, but if he did, it would be Haly’s Circus that Friday night in September, just as summer was beginning to die.

(He'll always be a sucker for kids with sad eyes, no parents, and more fight than the world knows what to do with.)

Or: in a universe where superheroes don't exist, Bruce Wayne finds his family.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 54,231

My Comments: I feel like this fic is a right of passage into the BatFamily fandom, so if by some chance you haven’t already read it, I highly suggest you move this straight to the top of your reading list. It’s a classic and has everything you could ever want in a BatFam Fic.

we are not alone in the dark by @audreycritter

Summary: Damian has a flashback on a family camping trip.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 2,218

My Comments: A BatFam camping trip, need I say more? One of my favorite hurt/comfort fics involving Damian. We get to see some super sweet moments between Bruce and Damian, and Damian and Jason. Loved it.

Where You Go, I Follow by @fishfingersandjellybabies

Summary: In some world, Dick Grayson was never revived by Lex Luthor, and was probably better for it.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1,427

My Comments: BROKE MY HEART, but in the best possible way. I cried both sad tears and happy tears for this fic. LOVED IT! I have read it at least six times (I’m going read it again after I post this rec). A fantastic Dick & Damian story. I also love the title; it captures the mood perfectly. I’m always a sucker for fics that are inspired by songs, this one was inspired by ‘I Will Follow You’ by Toulouse!

Video message incoming by helenabertinellis

Summary: The League are just wrapping up their meeting when a call comes through the Watchtower servers.

It's for Batman.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 1,228

My Comments: I consider this a classic BatFam fic, so I will be shocked if you haven’t read it, but on the off chance that you have not read it, GO READ IT NOW. It’s humorous and all so wholesome 😊

Yesterday’s Voices by @lemonadegarden

Summary: While trying to take down a drug cartel that deals with memory altering drugs, things go awry, and Batman wakes up with no recollection of the last five years.

As a result, his family must now race against time to find the antidote, while also having to deal with a Bruce who still thinks Jason is Robin. A Bruce who doesn't recognise most of them. A Bruce far less jaded and cynical than the one they're used to. A Bruce who still cares.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 49,000

My Comments: Surprise, surprise another amazing fic by LemonadeGarden. I will be shocked if you haven’t read this fic yet, but on the off chance that you haven’t, I am telling you now, to RUN to this fic. It will forever and always be my MOST FAVORITE BATFAMILY fic out there. I honestly wish this fic never had ended, it’s one that will always hold a special spot in my heart. THIS IS THE BRUCE WAYNE WE DESERVE.

For More Fic Recs Check-Out:

BatFamily Fic Recs part 2

BatFamily Fic Recs Part 3

BatFamily Fic Recs Part 4

BatFamily Fic Recs Part 5

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froggibus · 1 year

Note

Hi!

I saw where requests were open and you cleared out some.

I was wondering if you’d be okay for me to resubmit my dark/yandere batboys requests.

If you dont feel like doing a request like that it’s perfectly okay, this is your blog and your time so don’t worry and think I won’t be on your blog if you don’t. It’s all up to you, I just don’t want to take up you inbox if so.

Just let me know

Love ya!

- angst lover 🖤

This Unruly Mess I've Made - Dick Grayson

Pairing: Dick Grayson x gn! reader

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: while Dick Grayson has always been your ball of sunshine, Nightwing hasn't, and on a particularly bad night, you see just how terrifying the vigilante really is

CW: violence, fighting, Dick accidentally hits reader (mistakes them for someone else), yelling, Dick says some pretty mean things, angst, groveling, some hurt/comfort

this is the third time ive had to rewrite Dick's part (also why this took so long!!) i kinda struggle with writing yandere/darker themes but i am trying! im sorry if this isn't quite what you wanted, but i was honestly stumped on how to write this for Dick.

also since these turned out so long i am going to separate them (also im thinking about doing a Tim version + am definitely doing a Bruce version)

Jason Version

————

It’s dark and cold, but that’s typical for a night in Gotham. The rain is coming down hard, dripping down your face and soaking you to the bone. You squint into the darkness, searching desperately for your boyfriend.

His words echo in your mind. Stay put, I’ll be right back.

He had clenched your shoulders just a little too hard, his jaw set a little too tight. You understand why—if the roles were reversed, if you had received a call from him in the middle of the night, his voice strained and teary, you would be angry too. If you knew someone was following him, stalking him like some sort of prey, you’d be equally as mad.

He was at your side within a minute of the call, swooping in to save you. He had gotten you to safety, making sure you were okay, before diving back off into the night.

That was almost an hour ago, and you couldn’t stand in the rain under the overhang of the convenience store any longer. You had tried to call him, but he wasn’t answering. So, you set out to find him yourself.

How hard could it be to find a vigilante dressed in all black in the dead of night in Gotham?

Very hard, apparently, because you’ve been stumbling down the wet streets for what seems like hours with no sign of Nightwing.

Your clothes stick to your skin, every inch of you is wet and cold. You try to make your way back to your apartment, but the streets don’t look familiar to you anymore and you only grow more desperate with each passing moment.

There’s a bright orange light up ahead, so bright you feel like you’re imagining it. And it’s warm, warm like the sun. For a minute you’re not sure if it’s already day or not, but when you get closer, you see the roaring fire in front of you.

There’s figures in front of it, casting shadows across the street in a way that can only be described as menacingly. You squint, the light so intense it hurts your eyes. You can just barely make out the figure of your boyfriend up ahead, beating up some goons.

Someone else is with him, someone big. You can’t tell if it’s Bruce or Jason from this angle, but you don’t care. You’re so overwhelmed from the cold and your misery that you’re running to Dick before you even realize what you’re doing.

Dick’s just knocked out the last goon on him before he sees another, smaller one emerging from the darkness. Running straight towards him. The adrenaline has his heart beating so fast that it’s painful, his vision tunnelling, his instincts kicking in.

Just as you get to his sides, Dick reacts. His arm flies out, hitting you in the chest and knocking you flat on your ass. The wind is knocked out of you from the hit, shockwaves being sent up your tailbone from the impact.

You look up at him with teary, confused eyes. Dick stares back, equally confused, pupils blown. No, not Dick. Nightwing.

You expect him to react, to help you up, to apologize.

“What are you doing here?”

There’s not enough breath left in your body to speak, but he takes that as a sign to keep talking.

“I told you to stay put! Do you even know how much danger you’re putting yourself in, here? Putting me in?” His voice is gravelly and angry, a tone that you’ve never heard before. “You could have ruined everything!”

“I-I’m sorry,” you wheeze, tears rolling down your cheeks.

Jason’s ears perk up at the yelling, and you see him start to approach from over Dick’s shoulder. You don’t want him to see you guys argue, but that went out the window when Dick started yelling at you in public.

“Sorry doesn’t mean anything! Why can’t you just listen to basic instructions, y/n? Why do you have to make every single thing so fucking difficult on me?”

You flinch from his words. Actually flinch. He’s never spoken to you like this before. He’s never been this angry before. His chest rises and falls quickly, the adrenaline taking over completely. He takes a step towards you but you scramble back, your hands scraping on the pavement.

He tries to step forwards again but a hand catches his collar. He spins around, facing his younger brother. “What the hell are you doing?”

Jason shoves his chest hard. “No, what the hell are you doing? Can’t you see how fucking terrifying you’re being right now? Look at y/n,” he gestures to you, and when the older boy refuses to look, he shoves him again. “Look!”

“Stay out of this, Hood,” he shoves him back. “It’s none of your damn business.”

They keep arguing, voices rising with their adrenaline. Neither one of them are paying any mind to you, too busy shoving each other and getting in each other’s faces to look at you.

You take this opportunity to scramble to your feet, forcing yourself to take slow and silent steps until you’re far enough away to start running. You don’t look back, feet pounding the pavement.

Dick knows he’s out of line, he knows the adrenaline and the aggression are consuming him the way they’ve always consumed Batman. But he can’t stop it. Not tonight, not when you were in danger not once, but twice. He knows he’s spiralling, losing the control he’s held onto so tightly, but he can’t stop it now.

And Jason. Jason stepping in the way and shoving him? He can’t let that stand. And even if he knows he’s wrong, he’s not going to admit it and give the younger boy the satisfaction.

Their fight only gets worse, spiralling out of control. Dick giving into the adrenaline, Jason giving into his urges. It gets so bad that even Tim and Damian are scared. It gets so bad that all of a sudden there’s a familiar thud behind them and they both freeze in their tracks.

Dick knows even before he turns around that he’ll be face to face with Batman. Still, he does it, and the disappointed look his father is shooting him is enough to drain the fight from his body. Waves of clarity wash over him, and the events from the night start to register.

Bruce says nothing, his look is enough. The anger in his eyes says it all. Cave. Now.

The boys trudge after him, finding their own respective ways back to Wayne manor. Dick can’t help but tug on his hair and groan. What is this unruly mess I’ve made?

————

There’s bruises on your ass and chest. A large, long one across your chest in the exact shape of Dick’s forearm, and a big round one on your ass from where you hit the ground.

You can’t help but stare at them in the mirror, the ugly purple colour only making you more emotional. You want to scream, you want to cry, you want to hit him.

But you don’t do any of that. Instead, you step into the shower and stand under the hot water and close your eyes. All you want is to forget, for last night to have not happened. But it did. And nothing you can do will change that.

Dick feels horrible. How could he have said any of that to you? He didn’t even help you up after he hit you, accident or not. The thought of his own actions make him sick.

Bruce spent the better part of the night lecturing both him and Jason, and even after Jason left, he kept yelling at Dick. He couldn’t bring himself to argue or defend himself. How could he? He hurt you. He continued to hurt you. If Jason wasn’t there…he hates to think what might have happened.

He slams his phone down. This is the 37th time he’s called this morning, and still no answer. After the fifth call, they just started going straight to voicemail. Even his texts say they’re not being delivered.

He sighs, knowing he has no choice other than to head to your apartment.

—

You know before you even open the door that Dick is the one knocking. He keeps his touch on the wood soft, as if he’s scared to startle you. Which he is.

You don’t open the door. You look at him through the peephole, and he looks almost as rough as you feel. You sigh.

“Y/n,” his voice is soft, raspy. “I know you’re there. I-I can hear you breathing.”

You slide down the other side of the door, leaning your head against the hardwood.

“You don’t have to talk, and I know you owe me nothing but please—just, listen.”

Your heart aches and you’re not sure what to do. You want to listen to him and you want him to make everything okay again, but you don’t know if it ever can after last night.

“I fucked up. God, y/n, I fucked up real bad. I-I don’t know what was going through my head. I was being so stupid and I was on edge and the adrenaline—I was so worried about you.”

A few tears fall down your face at his words.

“I didn’t mean to hit you, and I think you know that. I would never hit you. I would never lay a damn finger on you like that.”

You wipe the tears on your forearm, your nose stuffy from crying.

“I know that I can’t take back what I said. I know that you’ll never forget that—fuck, I’ll never forget that. But I just need you to know that I didn’t mean it. I never meant any of that.”

Your breath is shaky and it takes everything you have to not start sobbing loudly. You clench your knees together, shoving your head between them. You know that he’s being sincere, and you know that he didn’t mean what he said.

“Y/n, you are the love of my life. I mean it—you are it for me. There’s never going to be someone else. And I need you to know that this will never happen again. I will never let this happen again.”

His voice cracks with every word, he’s so close to tearing up, but he won’t let himself. This isn’t his moment to break down. This is yours.

He doesn’t know what else to say, he doesn’t know what he could possibly add to make this better. Just as he goes to speak again, the door swings open and you’re face to chest with him.

“Y/n…”

“I-I don’t really know what to feel right now,” you admit. “A part of me is really scared of you, but I love you so damn much and—and I think as long as Nightwing stays away from me, we can make this work.”

He nods. “Whatever you want, baby. You name it and it’s yours.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you okay if I hug you?” His blue eyes meet yours, “we don’t have to if you’re not up for it. I understand that you don’t really trust me right now and—”

You practically jump on him, wrapping your arms around him. Dick accepts you with open arms, squeezing you so hard he lifts you off of your feet. You wrap your legs around his waist, nuzzling your face into his shoulder.

He holds you, gently bouncing you up and down in a motion that’s so soothing you almost fall asleep on his shoulder. “I love you, y/n. I love you more than anything.”

#batfam #batman #dick grayson #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson angst #nightwing x you #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing angst

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batcathuntress · 4 years

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I’ve got you Batfam x Batsis

request for @aestheticllylosers my power just went out the other day at my house so i was wondering if i could have batfamily, plus maybe Selina Kyle trying to entertain a scared little bat baby (age three) through a blackout and storm. very fluffly.... _____________

The whole family was gathered in the living room preparing ways to entertain themselves in an attempt to drown out the storm, sadly living with tech geniuses and a billionaire father does not help keep the power on, in fact you’ve all been sitting in the dark for about an hour whilst Alfred went around lighting candles, that being said their attempts of having fun during a thunderstorm only did the bare minimum when it came to distracting you and due to the loud crashes outside you had your head buried in your dad’s chest for half of it anyways so you couldn’t even pay attention to it.

Your family were at a loss, they didn’t know how to make this situation any more comfortable for you, even your mother Selina attempted to take you upstairs and distract you with your toys but you ran down the stairs screaming as soon as you saw a flash of lightning outside your window. Bruce was thinking about calling Diana to see if she could tell you an old story about the Gods because you always enjoyed those but given the situation the cell towers were down so he had no way of getting through to her, but he figured he could help you all on his own, almost on his own, your brothers were also in panic mode trying to find ways to calm their little sister down.

Dick attempted books, cooking and even some old board games he found in his room but nothing seemed to keep your attention for too long before you were back whimpering in your dad’s arms. Tim thought hide and seek was a good idea but it was ruled out because he joked about the manor ghosts finding you first and you started bawling your eyes out, Damian attempted to fight the lightning as a way to make you laugh but he slipped in the mud outside and that made you think that the lightning was attacking people so that took a whole 2 hour conversation from your dad to try to explain to you that lightning can’t push people over and Damian is just clumsy, he scoffed at that but a pointed look from his father got him to play along with the story. Jason, well he tried but ultimately gave up and tagged Alfred in, it’s not that he didn’t want you to feel safe it’s just he had one idea since the fighting lightning joke was taken by the demon spawn as he likes to call him, he’s also came to the conclusion that Damian can read his mind when in actuality he just found the piece of paper that Jason used to write his two ideas down with.

____________

“what are we gonna do?” Dick asked looking around the kitchen at all the baffled faces of his family, Selina was laying with you in the other room trying to put you down for a nap but from the sound of your little cries it wasn’t working.

“well we could-” “no” Jason said cutting Damian off “tt you didn’t even let me say it Todd” “we already know it’s sh*t stop wasting time” “Jason” Bruce said in a warning tone, “there’s a generator in the cave if we go down there and get it working we can put a movie on for y/n to help her” Bruce said and looked up to everyone staring at him in disbelief,”wait so your telling me we could have had power this WHOLE TIME” Tim yelled , Bruce sighed, “I just wanted to spend time with you all, your sister has been asking for you and with your jobs you hardly get to see her, I just thought that if i forced us all together with no technology to distract you that you’d end up enjoying it a bit” when he finished talking Alfred smiled to himself, when the storm alert first hit the news his master told him to turn the generator off and tell everyone to come home, he knew Bruce missed them but would never admit it out loud so he just went along with it, the truth is he needed this time with his family just as much as the rest of them and secretly didn’t want the generator on but if it helped miss y/n he was open to trying. “wow, I didn’t think i’d ever hear you admit to wanting us here out loud, like i’ve heard you say it in so many dreams but real life? i’m shocked” Jason said jokingly “ you know that’s all you needed to say right? keep it off” Dick said smiling “but-” Tim tried to object but got a warning nudge from Damian who would never admit it but this has been one of the best days of his life.

____________

Once they got back into the living room Selina looked up at Alfred and the two smiled knowingly at each other, and you slowly lifted your head up to look at your family walking back in “the storms calmed down sweetie do you want to try play a game again?” your mother asked you and you tilted your head to look up at her and then to your dad again “okway” you said sniffling as you crawled off your mom’s lap and down to the floor with your brothers.

Bruce sat with Selina and put his arm around her pulling her close to him and watched his kids actually get along to play a game of monopoly, and slyly wished for more storms in the future.

____________

i’m in a batfam mood so send in requests!

#Batsis #batfam headcanons #batsis x batfam #batsis imagine #batfam #batfam x reader #batfam x batsis #bruce wayne imagine #batsis x bruce wayne #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #Selina Kyle x Daughter!Reader #batsis x Selina kyle

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friggsdc · 3 years

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Title: little delinquent pt iv

part iii | part iv

Warnings: Female!reader (bat!sis), mostly plot with family fluff, AU, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 4600~

Synop: It had Bruce and Dick sharing a look for a moment before the latter spoke up, “It’s not like I’m against continuing to expand the family, but…” he eyed the child you held nervously, “please don’t start bringing home every child you find…” he tilted his head, “he’s bad enough.” Bruce settled a light glare at his first son (that definitely wasn’t what Bruce was thinking), though Dick was stilled by the way your eyes narrowed at him instead.

“His name is Terrence,” that was all you said, brushing past as they were suddenly on guard at the inherited Wayne-scowl on your face.

---

A/N: ee;;;; enjoy me not knowing what this plot is, idk tbh, but it’s fun to write. It’s more plot than fluff, which wasn’t what i meant to write sighs. I’ll probably write companion pieces to this that’s zero plot all fluff. The plot wasn’t meant to be so deep, but I mean, uhm… enjoy papa Bruce and mama Alfred~

---

[bigR] Dad’s upset.

[bigR] He’s talking less than usual, not even grunts.

[bigR] I think he’s ignoring me?

[you] crap

[bigR] Worse, there’s no news.

No news? True, you hadn’t seen the info feeds light up, the networks had been offline all day, but nothing from Tim’s side? If you didn’t hate Luthor before, well…

[you] this is giving me a headache ::dizzy_emoji::

[bigR] No kidding, I think he’s figuring a few things out.

[bigR] Patrol with B, everything’s unlocked, bb @ late.

[you] is typing…

“You sure it’s okay?”

The taller male gave quite the toothy grin, a large hand coming up to pull the awkwardly fitted shirt collar back to center, admiring your new outfit. “You can just bring it back later, besides, I think it’s cuter this way.” After a few hours and an incredibly long phone call between Jason, Tim and yourself, the three of you combined were able to get the suit to come off.

Tim said he still had a lot to go over, but that the laptop was actually incredibly useful. Much of what Tim had been talking (and geeking) about had been lost on Jason and you, too focused on Terry and wrangling the alien suit off.

Jason said he’d be jealous of the strange futuristic-like material if it weren’t for the second skin-like fit, happily poking fun at Nightwing’s taste in suits.

Most of the work was done on Tim’s side since he apparently already had the ability to take control of the suit. It was something you were rather… anxious about, but unlike the manor, Jason’s place had the advantage of no Bruce and no cameras.

So now you sat in the same pair of pants you’d come over in, the only pair of flip-flops he had. They were far too large for you, but your toes would have to hang on till home, and a large t-shirt that fit well enough.

“Muscle up, Buttercup” was written on the front, Superman’s flexed arm between the words.

“Your taste in clothes is…”

“Cheap. Like second-hand cheap.”

“But… why…”

“To spite Bruce? I pay more for job-related injuries than money I actually have, it’s been tempting me to go back to crime, honestly.”

“…you sure that’s not to spite Bruce as well?”

“I mean,” he shrugged, an impish grin on his face as he lightly ruffled the top of your hair, causing you to childishly swat his hand away, “isn’t that what everyone else does? It’s fun, you should try it sometime.”

“Uh-huh…” you were honestly too much of a—

“Daddy’s girl,” he snorted lightly, unimpressed.

Before slipping one of Jason’s unused backpacks on, you stuffed the batsuit in the bottom, and the jacket you arrived in on top. Turning just in time to see him picking up Terrence’s sleeping form with incredible gentleness, you cooed lightly.

“You know, you’re not bad at that,” he looked at you, frowning, ears flushing before his attention went back to the bundle in his arms.

“Not even…” instead of moving to take the child from him, you opted to stand still and just watch the interaction instead, as if a point were being made.

Big boy looked like he was terrified of breaking the child in his arms, like an heirloom British teacup, “You look cute like that, a giant teddy bear and a tiny uh... new bat?” Walking over, he turned his eyes to the side, not a single trace of anger towards the situation in his voice anymore, “don’t get used to it,” he muttered, unsure of himself. “But you could get used to it,” you smiled, taking the giant marshmallow from him, “he’ll be around from now on, you know. You’ll have uncle duties~” Your teasing only increased his rising timidness, “right…”

“Well,” he began, heading to the door once you had everything, “I’m already late for patrol, let’s get you home.”

Alfred had greeted you at the door and mentioned putting on some tea, and you gladly accepted, though not before you went up and changed. With the promise to be back downstairs in a few minutes, he took Terrence from you to ready him for bed. Adorable child was actually quite active, having tired himself out at Jason’s temporary housing.

Quickly, you’d headed to Tim’s room to empty the contents of your bag in his faraday cage, hoping that it was secure enough being in his room. Once you’d locked the safe’s door, you headed out of his room and down the hall to your own. Sorry Jay, but the shoes were uncomfortable, and the shirt kept trying to strangle you more than the shirt of a giant should. Pajamas sounded wonderful right now.

The now empty backpack was tossed to the side near where Duke had left the your clothes from earlier in the day, and a few immediate items for Terrence. You figured everything else was probably in the nursery now, hoping it was all waiting for you in the next few days. The awkward clothes you’d worn over the suit had been tossed on your day clothes, and then Jason’s shirt and shoes were dropped on top.

The shower was quick, and having changed into a fresh pair of pajamas, you suddenly felt sluggish, your shoulders now heavy with tightness. Come to think of it, your thighs also felt rather wobbly, like jelly… but the only strenuous activity you can remember doing in all honesty was… base jumping… was it the wings? It’s all you could honestly come up with. Maybe you weren’t used to such a thing yet, and as you rubbed your shoulders, you headed back downstairs to the sitting room. “Nn…”

“Sore?”

It was still too early for anyone scary to be home right now, so…

You nodded, collapsing on the small sitting couch, Alfred going to stand from his seat to fix you a cup of tea from the tray on the table. “I did a dumb thing today. I’m not certain if I regret it or not.” He handed you the tea plate and cup before returning to his original position on a rather regal looking chair, “I’ve already put the Little Master to bed for the evening. The Young Masters went to bed awhile ago, though I suspect, they are not, actually sleeping.” He gave an amused hum at the thought of Damian and Jon and what they were totally not doing.

He definitely hadn’t noticed when they’d snuck out earlier. Nope, not at all.

It was a long day filled with heightened emotions, anxiety, stress, confusion, and at the end of it, you were just so tired, and Alfred had always been your confidant next to Tim, and—

You tried to keep quiet as you spoke.

“I jumped out of a really tall building. Like… ninety feet up? I’m not certain, I was watching my life flash before my eyes.” He sighed and frowned into his own tea, “Master Bruce has already left for the night, Master Tim is accompanying him, as the boys are… supposed to be here for a night off. I really had hoped you’d grown up to be more intelligent and not as reckless as your brothers.” Or your father, Alfred mused, sipping at his tea, pinky out, the proper macaroni gentlebutler he was.

“I mean, I panicked, I was in a batsuit, I had a lot of intel on me, like, literally stole a laptop and backed up something called Project B (whatever that meant, though you had your suspicions having met Conner), there was a ton of guards outside going from door to door… I don’t have the same muscle mass to fight like my militant brothers, I was scared of what would happen if they caught me, like dad’s reputation?, I may have been overwhelmed by the—”

“—batsuit?” Ah, you looked up from your tea with wide eyes to see him staring, uncertain if the twinkle in his eye was worry or mischief. “Yeah, that. Uhm… Please don’t tell dad,” you sat up straight, gave him your biggest crocodile tears, and were about to clasp your hands together like a beggar before he waved your antics off. “I would not, not unless it endangers your life, Young Miss, you know that. Including young Master Terrence, of course.”

“This afternoon I must ponder over, What you did was, how shall I say, not okay,” he spoke, stern.

He stood to walk over, seating himself next to you while smiling gently, “though I must admit, I am quite curious as to the story behind all of this.” You gave your own small smile as you stared at your tea, “Yeah. I still don’t know all of it yet, myself, but… it’s actually really cool…” The two of you spoke in hushed tones.

Bruce may have been your father, but much like him, you were raised by Alfred, and seeing as you usually weren’t allowed out on the field like the others, your disposition was as Alfred’s was; support. It was something your brothers and father relished in when they had any extra time over the years. You loved to spoil them, and they were readily eager for it.

It was also thanks to Alfred that you’d learned you had a unique knack for espionage.

Your brothers were raised to protect themselves and others, getting to go out nightly on risky (and deadly) vigilantism escapades. More than that, they not only got to be of use to your father, but they were able to grow up around him, their lives dedicated to the same purpose.

To say you were jealous was an understatement, often worrying Dick and Jay at times.

To say you were your father’s daughter and just as like-minded as him was also an understatement. This was something Tim and Damian understood better than your two eldest siblings.

You were determined as heck.

You graduated from avoiding Alfred’s detection to stalking your father and brothers, skills honed even further as you learned how to use their toys and listen in on their coms system. It was your father’s own fault, leaving you alone all the time.

You would never be useless again.

You would never be left behind again.

“So, your brothers are helping you, then? I am glad of that, it means I need not worry as much,” even though Jason and Damian only knew half the truth, it was Tim who knew everything you did. Duke didn’t want to know and apparently Jon’s dad had warned him not to get involved with “bat business,” and Alfred… “If… If Terry’s parents…” how were you supposed to frame this part, exactly? You ere bothered by the truth of it, so... maybe making it sound worse than it was? If that was even possible... “if they were bad people, like really bad people,” as if suddenly remembering the walls had ears, you lowered your head and voice, barely audible for him to hear, “do you think dad would let me keep him?”

The both of you knew that wasn’t the issue, Bruce had no problem with the child staying, but…

There was something about the boy that seemed to be worrying you…

“If there is one thing I take great pleasure and joy in,” Alfred beamed like the proud father he was, “it’s that at least one of you children turned out more like myself than Master Bruce.” No, honestly, he was so glad you weren’t gloom and doom like your father and siblings, “I’m certain you could tame the wildest of beasts.”

His parentage held no ground here, the two of you understood the meaning behind the words, memories of when Damian met you for the first time after arriving at the manor surfacing, “I think you’ll do just fine with the child. I have all the confidence in the world.”

Maybe you were being overly paranoid about the whole situation.

The evening was finished in comfortable companionship between the two of you, and he’d shoo you away to bed long before it was time for the boys to come home.

After cleaning up and assuring himself that at least someone in the manor went to bed properly, he busied himself with the surveillance of the manor.

He made certain you wouldn’t be caught just because of his curiosities.

Through part of the night, you’d begun doing as much research into the relationship between Luthor and CADMUS as you had time for, the past few days having been spent going over only CADMUS information. That was until you got a ping on Luthor’s name written on several specific checks, and gathering as much information available. You looked for key phrases in the news cycle over the past day’s incident, as well as dating back several months. You’d even taken the chip out of your work phone and popped it into the laptop sitting on the bed in front of you, allowing network protocols to take over.

There was only so much the news would give you, so you checked in on security feeds from the area, keywords during phone calls used to see if anyone noticed, satellite intel snapshots, everything. Anything.

The time-sensitive channels still hadn’t opened, no information from other informants was anywhere in the Societies channel logs, not even the time-delayed backlogs.

Someone else was cleaning up.

Early morning, the best time to avoid anyone in the manor who had a night life, also just in time to get breakfast as Alfred made the first batch of the day. Though mostly for himself, he’d generally make extras as you’d often join. Heading down the foyer stairs, Terry’s barely conscious form bundled in your arms, you beelined to the kitchen, the smell your guide. “Ah, good morning Young Miss! I even made some for the Little Master, just in case,” Alfred smiled down at the boy in your arms, holding up a small bowl of minced and steamed veggies.

The kitchen was large for an older-modeled mansion, constantly rebuilt with minimal changes, but still cozy and incredibly sustainable. Between the door to the foyer and the opposite wall, where the door to the dining room was, there was a large table. Several shopping lists, foodstuffs, and cookware took up a good portion, but there as still enough room for a small few people to sit comfortably at once.

You smiled, sitting down in the chair the older male pulled out for you, then pushing you in, food for the child set on the table. You situated Terry in your arms, finding a nice spot to rest his bottom without worry of him slipping off, and reached over to spoon some of his meal to him.

Strangely, he didn’t resist much, yawning in between bites as you had to scoop up what tried to spill out of his mouth, “so, how old might you say he is? I’ve been thinking about it, perhaps about a year?” you nodded as you looked up, agreeing with Alfred as he sat down, food cooking behind him in the meantime. “I think… if not that, maybe a few months younger… he can stand, and seems okay with soft solids… I think you’re right, maybe a year?” his clothing size certainly seemed to think the same, Duke having gone to extreme lengths to get a perfectly fitted wardrobe for the boy. He even included a few different larger sizes for the coming year as well.

“Hm…” Alfred leaned on his crossed arms, rested on the table as he eyed the boy, “I suppose we could begin early development lessons with him, signing especially, but I think he can do more, words, possibly.” In response, Terry sneezed, food spraying all over the spoon and bowl in front of the two of you, his eyes still groggy as he slumped in your hold. “Oh dear,” Alfred hummed in amusement, standing to bring you a small terrycloth towel to clean up.

Terry gave a small grunt as he pushed at the cloth now cleaning his face.

“Gonna… Gonna have to get used to that…” the suddenness surprised you, you knew it was a normal human function, but you just hadn’t… expected it.

“I think there will be a great many things for you to get used to from now on, even I will have to relearn a few things. It’s been… a very long time since an infant was in this home.” He went back to finishing his and your meal, a nostalgic and wistful look masking his face. Bruce had no idea what to do with you when you were an infant handed over to him, and it amused Alfred to this day.

Thinking about it, you looked down at Terry, your chin coming to hover over his head, almost as if you were trying to nuzzle him, loud enough for only him to hear, “…mama. S… Say mama.” The child just tilted his head and cooed at you instead, reaching up to pull at your hair again ohdeargodpleasestop.

Releasing your hair from the child’s grasp and holding both of his hands in yours this time, you tried once more, “mama.”

“Mmba,” he blew a raspberry at you as he slurred his speech, becoming more fascinated with the bubbles he blew than your inquiries. “Mm… bah.” He let out a giggle, popped his lips at you and then smiled, trying, and failing thanks to your hold, to reach for your hair again. After several attempts, he settled for turning slightly, resting his head on your chest as he watched Alfred and all of the very shiny cookware.

You flushed, wanting to beam but also feeling incredibly self-conscious about the situation still, it was honestly a lot to get used to. Frowning in determination at the snuggly bug of a child, you tried a different tactic this time, “ma.” He was still more interested in the food being cooked, however, and you heaved a sigh into his head of hair. “Mma,” well, it was a start, and you repeated your previous chant of mama to him, your own eyes wide with what felt like pride.

Was this how Alfred felt?

“Mmba.” Well, as you said, it was a start. With a sigh, you went back to shoving food in his mouth, though quickly you had to wrangle the spoon from his mouth each time. “Stop… biting it, Terry…” you wondered how Conner had gotten so smart in such a short amount of time, wondering if Terry had still been too young when you took him from the bio labs at CADMUS.

“Ah, good morning Sir,” Alfred greeted, and your head shot up to see your father standing in the doorway, bags under his eyes and a yawn hidden behind the back of his hand. “Good morning, Alfred,” he stared at the older man with a frown, obviously trying not to say something. Instead, he looked at you and the child for a long moment, giving both of you a morning greeting. And even though Terry couldn’t properly respond, he did give Bruce the same challenging look as the last time.

He was looking for something out of the ordinary, however, the only thing in the room that was new was Terry, nothing else seemed to be amiss. But you could tell, looking up at him from the corner of your eyes, head still downturned, he was searching.

“Morning dad…” you tried to be light as you smiled at him, nothing is wrong.

“Daah,” Terry tried imitating, but it was lost in the rest of his babbling as he grabbed the food from the spoon. He was making another mess as he shoved it in his mouth, fingers fiddling around tongue and mushy carrots. Thankfully you still had the terrycloth to wipe at his chubby cheeks.

Bruce’s footsteps were as silent as his entrance, stopping next to you and squatting down, large hand, warm and gentle, landing on Terry’s head as he ruffled his hair, “I’d like to talk to you downstairs soon, okay?” He studied Terry for a moment, eyes as brilliant as his own, though it seemed like Bruce almost enjoyed the small head of hair in his palm. You couldn’t tell beyond the awkward chill in the air, but the two of them were giving each other knowing looks, both challenging, though Bruce couldn’t understand why Terry looked at him that way.

He made to stand up, pulling his hand away before Terry could do any damage, cheeks puffing out in a pout. “There’s something I’d like you to look into,” he spoke as he headed back towards the door, a morning coffee handed to him by Alfred, “oh, and you’re not allowed to leave the grounds for the time being. The tracker seems to be faulty.”

Considering you broke them often over the years, well, yeah, of course it was faulty.

Again.

The smile he gave you before he left was smug and you weren’t completely certain as to why, and it was making you really really nervous, “the League computers picked up something quite interesting yesterday.”

“Uh…” Ah yeah. Well heck.

Yeah, metropolis was both a huge risk AND your last outing, you were glad you took the chance though, even if your stunt escalated the situation. You were now officially on house arrest by the most observant secret-wannabe cop in the world.

Then again, there was no telling exactly what he knew.

He might be bluffing.

“Maaam… ah…” Huh? Did he just… Quickly as if borrowed from the speed force, your thoughts of Bruce and the problems at hand seemed to flee as you beamed at Terry. “Mama?”

“Mamhh.”

[bigR] Was able to give the drive a quick look.

[bigR] I don’t understand villains. I just don’t.

The hell did that mean?

[steph] c u soon <33

Ah, crap.

The table before Bruce had only a few pieces of paper and only two photos. You’d come home nearly a week ago with a new addition to the family, from where he still wasn’t certain. He’d checked and there’d been no missing infant reports that matched up with him, both in looks and location. Tim seemed to be in on it, hiding secrets along with you, and holding back when Bruce would inquire about anything even remotely familiar to the situation. Tim had also been keeping busy with something the past few days, and ever since you’d come home from shopping, he seemed unable to stay still, constantly fidgeting.

Then there was yesterday, when Duke took you out shopping with the boys while Batman had been at the Womb at the League’s watchtower, digging up as much as he could. Which, unfortunately, was just the few scraps of confusing ledes in front of him. The annoying part is how well you avoided the cameras, there were only a few times where he had been able to make you out, the rest he had to guess based on your profile that day.

The subsequent events had started stacking up in a rather annoying fashion. Your tracker’d been broken since you gave everyone a scare a week ago, returning with a child in your arms and something akin to paranoia. Even Tim had been clueless (until he wasn’t), and now even his attitude was giving Bruce pause. It felt more unnerving than bad, something making Bruce’s own stomach knot when he kept coming up with dead ends.

The day you’d gone shopping, the Womb had picked up something the news hadn’t, as the news was calling it nothing more than an accident, and it was that that gave Bruce even more pause. The worst part is that he couldn’t just take a deep dive into the LexCorp building’s system, knowing that much was out of their (or his) hands.

If Cyborg found out that Batman was secretly looking into a non-incident on the League system for family-related business, then he’d never hear the end of it from Superman and the others. He’d have to go out of his way to get into the building, and right now wasn’t the best time to do so, security was increased ten-fold. He’d have to wait it out.

LexCorp wasn’t even reporting it as an incident themselves, but the fact that they were being very stringent about the details, the increase in surveillance, Bruce felt it in his gut; an obvious coverup. The problem was why, there was no way what had happened had been anything short of problematic for Lex, and yet they weren’t filing any kind of paperwork.

They did their best to act as if they didn’t care, but Batman saw all the extra measures, and he also saw the information black hole happening.

LexCorp, no doubt, was scrubbing.

What he had been able to do, however, was gather two snapshots of a black blur that sped out of the building before disappearing into the thick of the city below.

About the same area where Damian’s own tracker took a detour.

“I preferred it when you used to use electrical tape to tape a transceiver blocker to your arm to hide the trackers,” Bruce hadn’t looked up as you approached (and you were dang silent too, even Terry was being chill), “It was much less of a headache.”

“Yeah, but that was when I was a kid. Nothing I do now can hide me from you anymore, the technology is different from back then.”

“Except breaking it.”

“Except that.”

He snorted as you stopped at the table, situating Terry on your hip, and looked down at the photograph that Bruce pushed over to you. It took every bit of training not to give anything away as you picked the photo up and gave it a once-over.

“This is…?” you turned your head to see him with that smug smile from before, tapping the image in your hand with his finger, “this is what I want you to look into.” You would have bristled if you hadn’t known your father better, this was some kind of trap.

“The same day you headed off to Metropolis, intriguingly enough, the LexCorp building had a break-in,” he paused to gather more words, rolling them around on his tongue before swallowing them, I’m worried, and you’re the reason.

“A break-in? I hadn’t heard—”

“No, you wouldn’t have. LexCorp seems to be keeping it from the public knowledge.”

“Then the League computers?”

“Was able to take a few photos from another satellite, these two were the best ones I could find. One of whatever broke in as it took off flying, and another of the same building a few minutes after. No police, no fire crews, nothing.” He was watching your reactions like a hawk, unfortunately you’d played this game so often growing up (learning to lie and stay out of trouble was a skill your brothers and you freaking perfected, even if they got into trouble on purpose), that it was really very easy to just—

“Uhm, but… dad, how? You grounded me, remember? That makes gathering any kind of intel like, y’know, hard.”

The smug smile was back as he pointed at the rather established medical area, the two of you heading over together, “you’re the information broker, I’m sure you can find something useful. It’s not the first time you’ve had to gather information from behind bars, after all,” you really hated how he still felt compelled to remind you of that.

It was once, in a country where no one knew you and where records were shoddy at best.

And on purpose, dangit.

You still weren’t certain how he even found out, besides, he and your brothers had done worse by comparison.

As he began removing the old tracker, you ignored the pain, the lack of anesthetic nothing new to you, too used to it at this point. Not that it was terribly painful. He was precise in skill, second to Alfred, you were too preoccupied with keeping the child still in your lap to notice what he’d been doing prior to your arrival.

All jokes aside, he’d finally gotten ahold of something that could yield actual results.

He looked to the boy again, staring at his familiar features, at his hair, like midnight, “striking how much he looks like us.” You frowned at him.

It was a statement.

The joke wasn’t lost on him.

Or on you.

#tim drake x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #stephanie brown x reader #duke thomas x reader #bat!sis

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eldritchqueerture · 3 years

Text

Chapter 7: Threads

Hello! Long time no see! The delay was unplanned and I'm sorry about that. I had an idea in the meantime to add more fluff chapters before shit starts to go down but then I couldn't get to writing them while telling myself that I will write them eventually, and then I had other ideas, and I was writing for Summer in the Archives, and so we are where we are. I decided to just keep posting what I have and if I do feel like adding fluff that would be happening in the meantime then I will just make a separate work in the series. I'm aiming to go back to my weekly schedule (haha), so I hope I can get the next chapter out next Friday. As always, please leave me a comment or come yell at me here on tumblr, it always brightens my day and keeps my motivation up! Enjoy <3

Martin looks at Jon’s sleeping face and thoughts swirl inside his head like tendrils of the mist that has been following him, tendrils that meet in one specific place – his feelings for him. He’s not proud of the fact that this is where his thoughts end up turning every time he thinks about Jon, considering the severity of the situation Sasha explained to him, but he cannot help wondering – despite his better judgement – if Jon doesn’t share them. He replays the worry in his brown eyes, the tight hugs, always ensuring he’s there, safe, and whole… He might be adding meaning to otherwise ordinary actions, of course, but he can allow himself to hope, for when that hope sparks inside him, the fog withdraws.

Jon is wrapped in a blanket on the cot in the storage room, where Martin has laid him. They found him sleeping on the desk in his office, his eyes all red-rimmed and puffed up; they didn’t comment on it. Martin carried him to the storage room and placed his glasses nearby. Tim went to take Sasha home, so she can get some rest, too, and was supposed to come back with lunch; the events of the morning are laying heavy on all of them and have left them quite hungry.

Martin closes the door to the storage room and comes back to his desk. Working seems a bit pointless when you know that your boss is scheming an apocalypse somewhere behind your back and you can’t quit the job, but he finds himself needing a distraction, so he opens up his computer to do some follow up research on Jason North and the alleged ritual site he found in the middle of a Scottish forest. Martin’s never been good with research, not like Sasha, so he soon stumbles upon a dead end. He ends up researching pictures for Scottish forests and cottages, and he daydreams, with his poem notebook by his side. How nice would it be to just move to Scotland, to a cottage like that and forget everything. Grow your own vegetables and herbs, welcome the sun every morning with a cup of tea; go down to the town for some groceries, meet some good cows; and maybe Jon is there with him, and he finally gets through to his head that he shouldn’t make tea in the microwave, and they cuddle on the couch while reading—

“’scuse us,” comes a deep voice and Martin looks up, startled, to find two delivery men standing there, in the Archives, with a big package next to them.

“Looking for the Archivist,” the other man says, but Martin figures that just because the voice is coming from a slightly different direction. They sound exactly the same; he finds they look similar, too. Their clothes are identical; they’re different makes and all but somehow, he can’t tell these two men apart. There’s… something off to them.

“Sorry, are you two meant—” Martin blinks, but one of them interrupts him.

“Won’t take up your time.”

“Just got a delivery.”

Martin opens his mouth, trying to process the fact that they seem to be two parts of the same whole. He wouldn’t be able to explain this thought if asked, but this is what runs through his head.

“Look, you really can’t actually—”

“Package for Jonathan Sims.”

“Says right here.”

He looks and yes, there, on the package, says ‘Jonathan Sims’ in a very ordinary, unassuming writing. He glances over at the door to the storage room and back at the two men.

“Well, he’s not—”

“We’ll just leave it with you.”

“Be sure he gets it.”

Martin struggles for words.

“Okay, I will, but you really have to actually—”

“’course. Much obliged.”

“Stay safe.”

“I’ll… try?” He responds with the first thing that goes into his head.

“Your recorder’s on, by the way.”

“Might wanna change that.”

Martin looks at his desk and he notices a tape whirring steadily in the recorder.

“Oh… so it is. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“At all.”

They both turn as one and leave Martin, the recorder, and the package alone. He hums, looking from one to the other and back.

“Well, I know for a fact that I did not turn you on,” Martin speaks to the recorder. “Maybe Tim felt in a mood for a prank. It is April Fool’s after all,” he huffs out a laugh. “Would be his style to do something, even with… all this happening.”

He stops the recording and turns to the package; before he can do anything else, though, the recorder clicks itself back on. Martin gives it a sideways look and his heart picks up the pace. He frowns and clicks stop again. One second. Two. There; it clicks the red button on its own.

Martin stands up and takes a step back.

“What the hell,” he breathes out.

Suddenly he hears a familiar laugh from the top of the stairs and energetic steps running down. Tim emerges from the doorway and gives him a surprised look.

“You okay, Marto?” He asks and places a paper bag on his desk, then points his chin at the package. “What’s that?”

“Uh…” Martin collects himself in a second. “Two delivery men just came by. It’s for Jon, apparently.”

Tim places a second paper bag and his coffee cup on his desk and walks around the package.

“No sender. Interesting.” He strokes his chin and looks at Martin with a grin. “We should open it.”

“Tim!”

“Look, boss is asleep, the package came to the Archives and not to his house, how private can it be?” Tim throws his arms up but seems to be watching Martin’s reaction more carefully. He doesn’t look very bothered, Tim assesses; he seems to be equally interested in the contents. He sighs and tosses him a letter opener.

“Fine, but you’re taking the blame,” Martin rolls his eyes with mock exasperation, and Tim’s grin gets wider.

“That’s the spirit!” He cuts the tape at the corners and opens the packaging to reveal an old wooden table; there’s a hole in the centre, Tim reckons about six inches square, and its surface is covered in intricate patterns resembling optical illusions. He frowns at it. “Huh. A table. Why would Jon…” He trails off as his eyes follow the hypnotizing patterns. “Interesting…”

Martin watches as Tim drops the letter knife to the floor, enraptured by the table. He wants to say something, to call out his name, but the fog from the edges of his vision spills out at the sight of the table and it blocks out the world; Martin stops feeling the chair underneath him and finds himself stranded in a sea of grey, thick fog.

“Tim? Tim!” He calls out but there’s no answer. There would be no answer, ever; he’s all alone here.

—

Jon wakes up to a nagging feeling that something is wrong. He blinks, trying to get rid of the sleep weighing heavily on his eyelids and gathers his bearings. He realizes he’s on the cot in the storage room, a blanket thrown to the floor next to him. He still feels too hot, and he takes off his sweater vest. What’s this feeling, gently pricking at the back of his mind?

He gets up, wobbly as he feels, and makes his way to the door. As he opens it, a voice makes its way to his ears.

“…friend mentioned poetry?” Jon squints his eyes, as light reaches him, yet he immediately recognizes the voice.

“…Gerry?” He asks and blinks – yes, he can make out the thin and long figure dressed in black, sitting on top of Tim’s desk. Tim is there too, leaning against Martin’s desk in front of Gerry, and Martin sits in the chair, his cheeks coloured just a little with faint pink. They all turn to him with surprise when he emerges. He can feel tension in the room, and he acknowledges the presence of something that looks like a table covered with a blanket in the middle of the room; the nagging in his mind grows into anxiety. “Something happened.”

“God, Jon, did we wake you up?” Martin jumps up to him with genuine worry and Jon smiles slightly, as he shakes his head.

“No.” He blinks again, to chase away the sleep and looks at Gerry and his inscrutable expression. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching a zombie rise from the dead, apparently.” Gerry gets down from the desk and crosses his arms. “Also saving the lives of his assistants by accident. I know you said you’re a mess but good God.”

Jon frowns with worry.

“Gerry, I’m serious.”

Something in Gerry’s demeanour changes as he sighs, and his expression clears.

“Well, I wanted to tell you that I’m in,” he says. “Whatever your crazy plan is, if you even have one, I want to hear it or help you make it; you weren’t picking up your phone, so I decided to come, pay you a visit.” He glances towards the table and his eyes cloud with a shadow. “And it turns out it’s good that I did.”

“What is this?” Jon walks over to the table and three pairs of hands shoot out to stop him. Gerry’s touch lingers comfortably, because apparently that’s what he does, and Jon isn’t so sure he minds it.

“An old table, with weird, hypnotizing patterns,” Tim says, and Jon detects a tinge of guilt in his voice.

“Did it have a hole in the middle?” He asks urgently and Tim nods.

“We need to get rid of it,” Jon looks in the direction of the stairs. “Put it in the Artifact Storage and make sure it’s covered.”

“Are you familiar with it?” Martin asks and Jon nods.

“Amy Patel case; the one where a person got replaced. Why would they—” Jon’s face falls and he turns to Martin and Tim. “Who delivered it?”

“It was two delivery men, really big, quite intimidating, but—uh, now that I think about it I can’t remember what they looked like…”

“Shit,” Jon sighs and rubs his face. “Okay, we really do need a plan.” He looks over their faces and his eyes stop at Martin’s disgruntled expression. “What is it?”

“What you need is rest,” he crosses his arms. “You pulled an all-nighter with Sasha, and you haven’t even slept for two hours now.”

“You do look like shit,” Gerry offers his insight and Jon fixes him with a glare.

“I can’t protect you when I’m asleep,” he says and looks pointedly at the table. “Clearly. Tell me wha—” He stops when Gerry squeezes his arm sharply. He takes note of the static in the air and clears his throat. “I want to know what happened.”

Tim sighs.

“Alright, it is kinda my fault,” he admits looking away. “I insisted on opening your package to see what’s inside. But in my defence, I thought it would be something funny; at least a bit humiliating for you, and we could laugh it off. The mood’s been horrible lately,” he grimaces. “The lines kind of… hypnotized me. I couldn’t look away and I started getting lost in them. It… It felt like being trapped in a web; the more I struggled to look away, the harder it was. I don’t know how much time had passed before your resident goth intervened. Then I came back to myself and Martin… he was grey again.”

Jon glances worriedly at Martin, who starts fidgeting with his fingers.

“I didn’t think you guys could see that,” he confesses. “It’s… it’s that fog you mentioned,” he says to Jon who nods, his lips pressed together. “It was… stronger this time.”

“He was a step from disappearing,” Gerry says, looking at Jon curiously. “I thought you guys were new here.”

“We are,” Tim says, looking at Jon pointedly. “You said you know why that happens.”

“I did,” Jon sighs and leans against the desk, next to Gerry. “I’m—Martin, I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

Martin looks away and he mutters something along the lines of “don’t worry about it”.

“The fog is… another one of the fears; called The Lonely or The Forsaken,” Jon says, looking somewhere into space. “It’s the fear that you’re all alone, that you can’t connect with anyone. Martin…” He exhales. “I have reasons to believe that your connection to the Lonely might have appeared in this… reality, along with my memories.” He finally looks up at Martin; there are no emotions on his face. “When did the fog first appear?”

“S-Sometime when I got transferred into the Archives,” he nods. “I thought it was just anxiety, but… y-yeah, it makes sense, I suppose.”

“You still don’t remember what you did to end up here?” Gerry asks and Jon shakes his head; Gerry clicks his tongue.

“So, what do we do now?” Tim looks at Jon. “What is Elias’ plan?”

“I…” He rubs his forehead. “I don’t remember exactly. I…” He trails off looking at them. They are waiting for him to tell them what to do. Martin, with colour in his eyes and something else there, something Jon doesn’t let himself think about; Tim, whom he hasn’t hurt yet, who still has hope and who isn’t filled with bitter anger and sorrow; and Gerry who’s alive, here with him, offering his help. Jon thinks about Sasha, the real Sasha who’s still there. He can’t protect them all from other Entities and Elias. Even with all of his knowledge, Elias still has more power here than him, and Jon sees that his threats weren’t a bluff. Jon deflates with a sigh. “We need to know if there’s a way to fill the tunnels with CO2 before the Hive attacks; and I need the table sealed shut - it’s not getting anyone this time. Other than that, I think we need to work the statements, like before.”

“Are you kidding?” Tim raises his eyebrows. “Elias is serving an Eye power and not letting us leave, and I’m supposed to still work for him?”

Jon swallows.

“Elias… He’s dangerous. Even with everything I know, he can still hurt us. I’m not risking an open war with him.”

“What is he gonna do, kill us?” Tim scoffs but he goes quiet when Jon gives him a hard stare. “Fuck off.”

“Murder isn’t usually his style of dealing with things, he generally prefers threats and blackmail, but he can definitely do that, too,” Jon says. “Let’s just say we don’t want to piss him off more than is necessary.”

“You literally punched him in the face today.”

“Yes, I know.” Jon grits his teeth and looks away. Tim narrows his eyes.

“He threatened you, didn’t he?” He asks and takes a step towards Jon. “What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jon says coldly. “We need to get back to work.”

“Oh, no, you’re going back home and getting some sleep,” Martin shakes his head. “Or we refuse to work.”

Jon groans but Gerry places a hand on his shoulder.

“Go, Jon, I’ll keep an eye on them,” he promises and after a second of searching his face, Jon gives in.

“Fine. Be careful.”

“You, too,” Martin says and hands him the paper bag from his desk. “Eat this.”

Jon gives him a grateful smile and, with a last look at them, walks to the stairs and climbs up.

—

Gerry Delano sits comfortably on a park bench with a cup of coffee in his hand and sips on it slowly; he thinks about the things the new Archivist – Jon – said to him this morning. He looked tired; the bags under his eyes, the messy hair, the absolutely horrendous smoking habit (at that Gerry just chuckles to himself) and the clean but messy clothes speak for themselves, and Gerry didn’t want to say it, obviously, but it was this entire image of an absolute mess of a confused man that made him believe him. The marks are curious, yes, but Gerry has seen many things which he doesn’t understand, and he’s okay with that. No, this man is clearly in need of support and if he’s really taken over for Gertrude (and, judging by the sheer amount of his energy just screamingBeholding, that was very probable), he is in for one hell of a ride.

If Gerry would have to describe his perfect life, with his mother and Gertrude gone, he’d probably say he wants to find a normal job and get some peace and quiet; that being said, he did try that as a teenager, running away from his mother and her life. He told himself then that he didn’t belong in the normal world and would always find his way back to his mother. He abandoned that dream for a while, until Gertrude offered to help him get rid of his mother’s ghost. He thought that maybe if he helped Gertrude for a while, burned some Leitners in the meantime, maybe he’d have enough and manage to build a life that didn’t always border on getting killed by something supernatural; and so his life went on and he never really grew to feel at home in the “normal” world. He’d about accepted the fact that he’ll probably die on the job with the old Archivist, and he wasn’t very surprised to find how quickly he accepted it. It seemed fitting; much more so than getting a job at a coffee shop or other, and just living among people who had no idea what’s really out there. Then he got shot in Pittsburgh – a Slaughter case he’d tried to prevent – and he was forced to stay behind in the hospital. In some fleeting moments of consciousness he saw Gertrude holding the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead and he prepared himself to wake up as a ghost any time; instead, he woke up to an empty hospital room and a note in her handwriting – “Build your life here. Stay safe.” He thought if this weren’t his chance to build the life he’d imagined for himself then it would never come; and he was right. He soon discovered that making friends is way too difficult when you’re able to tell which Fear Entity marked them in that supernatural encounter they’re too scared to talk about, and he returned to London, searching for Jurgen Leitner himself. He thought he found him, but he ended up beating up someone who turned out to just be some pathetic old man. And here he is, back in the world his mother dragged him into without his consent. Gerry sighs and takes another sip of his coffee. Maybe the universe simply needs a pyromaniacal, angry goth who did in fact end up in the business of helping strays.

He directs his thoughts back to Jonathan Sims and the Institute. They need to form a plan and Jon said he would fill his assistants in on at least the basics. He takes out his phone and checks the time – 1 PM. He rules that’s enough time to explain the basics of the metaphysical functioning of the Fear Powers in the world.

He finds his last messages and opens the one Jon sent at his request for contact saving purposes – “Here. – Jon Sims”. He’s a creative one, isn’t he? Gerry saves the number as Jon Archivist, then changes it to Jarchivist, and grins; then swipes to call.

No answer. He tries again and it still goes to voicemail.

Gerry shrugs and finishes his coffee. He burned his last Leitner in the alley just before he met Jon, so he doesn’t exactly have any new leads. He thinks he might as well pay the Archives a visit; it’s been a while since he was there last time, with Gertrude.

The street is quiet when he walks up to the building. The aura of Beholding is quite strong here already and he looks at the Latin words above the entrance. “I watch, I listen, I wait.” Tacky.

He comes inside and turns towards the stairs leading down. He’s not surprised when the lady at the reception calls out to him.

“I’m sorry, sir! Can I help you?”

Gerry turns to her. She’s a small Chinese woman with a bob cut and huge glasses; she smiles but Gerry can recognize a customer service smile when he sees one.

“Oh, actually, I’m a friend of Jonathan Sims, the, uh, Head Archivist. Saw him this morning, I promised I’d drop a few notes.”

“Notes?” She glances over at the papers at her desk. “What’s your name, sir?”

“Gerry Delano,” he tries to smile as she checks something.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I have you anywhere as a potential source—”

“Oh, that’s weird. I worked with the previous Head Archivist, Gertrude Robinson? Jon had a couple questions about her management style, you know how it is,” he waves his hand. “New job can be stressful.”

She looks over his clothes and tattoos with a frown for a second and then sighs.

“Alright, Jon’s office is right downstairs, through the Archives, Mr. Delano.”

“Thank you very much,” he nods his head and runs down the stairs.

Gerry doesn’t know what he expected to find down in the Archives, to be honest. Probably Jon being interrogated by his assistants, or maybe no one at all; he definitely did not expect to find one tall man staring into swirling patterns of a table that gave him very mixed signals of the Web, and another man in his desk chair, staring into space with a very unnaturally grey stare and his form dissipating into mist.

“Oh, I swear to God,” Gerry curses under his nose and looks around. “Can’t I meet people normally once in a blue moon?”

He picks up a blanket that lays stranded on the ground and covers the table. He then snaps his fingers in front of the tall man’s face and waves his hand.

“Hey, you still there?” He asks and the man draws in a breath, rapidly, and blinks, then looks around in confusion.

“Wh-Wha…” His eyes land on Gerry and he frowns. “Who are you?”

“Someone who just saved your ass from something nasty,” Gerry says, turns to the other man and touches his shoulder. Still there.

“Oh, God, his eyes are grey again.” The tall man grabs his shoulders and shakes him. “Martin? Martin!”

“How did he manage to go so deep into the Lonely with you there?” Gerry asks and moves to look inside the Head Archivist’s office. Empty.

“Into the what? Martin!” He shakes him again and Martin blinks and exhales but does not acknowledge him at all. “Do you know what’s happening to him?”

“Where’s Jon?” Gerry looks at the man sternly.

“Jo—who the hell are you?” The man exclaims. “We need to snap him out of it!”

“It’s not that easy.” Gerry rolls his eyes and looks through Martin’s desk. “What does he love?”

“What?” The man looks at him confused and Gerry stifles a groan of frustration.

“Martin. He needs an anchor, something that he loves that will bring him back here.��

The man’s eyes search the desk frantically.

“Come on!” Gerry rushes him and the man groans.

“Can he hear me?”

“Allegedly.”

“What does that mean?!” He looks at him pressingly.

“It means I don’t know!” Gerry grabs one of Martin’s hands. “He might, if he’s not too far gone.”

“Martin,” the man grabs Martin’s other hand. “Martin, think about tea. Poetry. Um, about—” He’s cut off by Gerry’s groan of frustration. “What?!”

“That won’t work,” he shakes his head. “He’s in the fogs of The Lonely; he thinks he’s alone and that it’s never gonna change; that he can’t ever make meaningful connections with other people.”

The man’s eyes move frantically as he puts something together in his brain.

“Martin,” he squeezes his hand again. “I’m here with you, you hear me? You’re not alone and Jon is here too, and Sasha will be here soon, and we will all be with you here because we are your friends, okay? We’re—” His voice catches when Martin’s grey gaze lands on his face. Gerry unknowingly nods for him to continue. “Look, I know you’re convinced that you’re no help here because of that fake resume that everyone pretends not to know about, but you’ve been such an amazing friend through these couple of months and—” he searches for words before continuing. “And I know you have feelings for Jon, and you need to think about him because if you ask me, he’s head over heels for you too, and you’re just too oblivious to realize, both of you,” he laughs and a tear streams down his face. “So you need to think about him because he needs you to be here and stay here, and we need you too, okay, Marto, we—we really do…” He inhales, as Martin squeezes his hand back and blinks. The man sighs deeply with relief and leans his forehead on their joined hands.

“Tim…?” Martin speaks up with a very gentle, detached voice and then his gaze lands on Gerry who has now let go of his hand and stands back up. “Who’s that?”

Tim looks up and wipes away another stray tear, then stands up to face him.

“Yeah,” he frowns. “That’s a good question.”

Gerry smirks and climbs up to sit at one of the desks.

“Seeing how I just might have saved your lives; I’d rather think some thanks are in order.”

“I’m not kidding, who the fuck are you?” Tim crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. Gerry notices he stares at his tattoos like he’s trying to remember something.

“Eh, fine.” He rolls his eyes. “Name’s Gerry Delano, but you may know me as Gerard Keay.”

Recognition flashes in Tim’s eyes.

“We had a statement about you!” He says and immediately frowns. “You killed a man.”

Gerry chuckles.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“What are you doing here?” Martin asks and Gerry crosses his legs.

“Waiting for Jon, actually. I thought I may find him here, but it appears I must have found his assistants, am I correct?”

“And you know Jon how?” Martin follows up; his voice gains a bit of depth to it, and he tilts his head, much more present than a second before.

“We met in an alley outside the Institute this morning,” Gerry shrugs. “Or, late night. Morning might be pushing it. He didn’t mention it?”

Tim sighs and rubs his face and Martin shakes his head.

“Eh, that’s fine. You two look like you have enough information to process for the next two months.”

“Something like that,” Tim nods and leans against Martin’s desk. “Jon’s getting some sleep and we’d rather have no one disturb him. It’s been a… hard morning.”

“He did look like he hasn’t slept in a week, I’ll give you that.” Gerry shoots a glance at Martin; his skin is regaining color, but his eyes are still unnaturally grey, and the edges of his form are blurry; the fog still lingers. “Hey, um… Martin?” He asks and Martin looks at him with surprise.

“Yeah…?”

“Just getting your names since you haven’t introduced yourselves. But that’s okay, I’m good at picking up from context.” He smiles and continues before Tim can speak. “So, Martin, what is it that you do here?”

“Uh… excuse me?” He blinks.

“I’m just interested, tell me what your usual day consists of. What do you do for fun? Your friend mentioned poetry?”

He notes the blush on Martin’s face with some satisfaction; the dark green colour returns to his eyes, though, still, his edges remain blurry. Martin can’t answer however; as he takes a breath, he’s interrupted by the door to the storage room opening.

Jon looks, frankly, even worse than he did before; in addition to everything aforementioned, his eyes are now puffed up from sleeping and he has apparently ditched his sweater vest, leaving only a creased, light blue shirt.

“…Gerry?” He frowns at him and takes in the room. “Something happened.”

“God, Jon, did we wake you up?” Martin shoots upright and the edges of his form become solid for a second. Just a second.

“No,” he shakes his head and blinks at Gerry. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching a zombie rise from the dead, apparently.” Gerry jumps down from the desk and crosses his arms. “Also saving the lives of his assistants by accident. I know you said you’re a mess but good God.”

“Gerry, I’m serious.” Jon gives him a look and Gerry sighs, but it’s a sigh of mock exasperation which hides only fondness. From the moment he learned Jon is the Head Archivist, he knew he would be a lot different than Gertrude; even if at first it was “this kid is a proper mess” contrasted with Gertrude’s calculated craft. He can see that what actually makes him different, better, is that he cares. Even though Beholding has him in its grasp far stronger than it ever had Gertrude, he has that spark of human empathy that she deemed an obstacle. He wouldn’t be the kind to sacrifice his own assistants to stop the Apocalypse, which maybe doesn’t give them big chances of success, but makes Gerry trust him. It makes him feel safer and it makes him stand stronger, and maybe that is exactly what is needed. And that one detail, that seriousness in his voice when he asks what happened to his assistants – to his friends – and the worry in his eyes when he checks if they’re okay, that’s what fully convinces Gerry that this man is worth his effort. If they can’t save the world with a strength like that then maybe no one really can.

—

Martin opens the door to Jon’s office to see the man reading something in a book. He looks up at Martin and his lips twitch towards a smile.

“Hello, Martin,” Jon says and immediately yawns. “God, sorry.”

“I was about to ask you if you’re still working.” Martin takes a look at his desk; there’s two empty mugs pushed to the side, a tape recorder (not recording), and some books and papers. Martin notices Jon’s glasses are still where he left them after he found them near the cot in the storage room. “You’re wearing contacts now?” He asks and Jon raises his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Well, I- I noticed you didn’t wear glasses today,” Martin shrugs and points his chin at them. “You forgot them yesterday.”

Jon’s eyes stop at the pair of glasses, and he frowns.

“Huh.” He rubs his chin. “Checks out, I guess.”

“What?” Now Martin frowns and Jon looks up at him, breathing in.

“The, uh—The Eye powers,” he grimaces. “This happened before too. I don’t—I don’t need them anymore.”

“Oh.” Martin shifts. “Well, I just wanted to tell you, you should get some rest. It’s—It’s late.”

Jon smiles fondly, staring into the air. Martin wonders what he's thinking about. Is he going back to memories he doesn't have?

“I really should, shouldn't I?” Jon asks no one in particular and sighs. “Thank you, Martin.”

“F-For what?” Martin laughs a little bit confused, and Jon looks at him for a moment before he shrugs.

“For caring. For being there.”

Martin looks away and shifts awkwardly again. Jon's stare, though gentle, is piercing; overbearing. Martin can't yet decide if it's good or bad, but it is certainly a lot.

“I should—”

“Could you—”

They start at the same time and look at each other. Jon shakes his head and gestures with his hand.

“Please, go first.”

Martin takes a deep breath.

“Could you tell me what—what it is that you want me to remember?”

Jon opens his mouth and closes it. His forehead ripples.

“I...” he begins and sighs, looking at his desk. “I don't think it was you. I mean—I think that... that it was a different version of you. In my past.” He looks up and his brown eyes are sad. “So it makes sense you can't remember because it never actually happened for you.”

Martin deflates with a little “oh” and looks down. The hole in his mind is settling nicely in the fog and he doesn't question it. Why would he? It was always there. He’s only lived this life, not anything else – if anybody would know it would be Jon. And obviously, it was a different Martin that Jon fell— That Jon cared for.

“Were we…” Martin stops, the word “together" left hanging in the air, and Jon looks at him for a second before something flashes in his eyes.

“We don't—I mean, I can't really— It's, it wasn't you so...”

‘I can’t really expect you to have the same feelings now’ is what Jon does not say, but Martin, of course, has no way of knowing that.

“Right,” Martin nods, and he can see Jon's cheeks blush, much the same as his own must right now. Martin swallows the awkwardness and nods again. “Alright, I'll, uh... I'll leave you to it. Then. Get—uh, get some rest.”

He closes the door and exhales deeply. Well, that was disastrous; he thinks, as he walks towards the document storage. There’s something heavy weighing down on his chest but he chooses not to dwell on it; it wouldn’t provide him with any insights he didn’t already know.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #tma oftm #jonmartin #niki.writes #new posting format because i have not heard of consistency in my life #we're back at it!!#also i promised myself that i would finish this #i Will Not abandon this #we are powering through #and we can Do this

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tired-college-student-writing · 4 years

Text

Tim’s Secret Weapon pt. 12

I’ve been slightly obsessed with @ozmav ‘s Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng pairing as of late, and just saw a post that has inspired me more than anything else has in months, so I felt the need to write it

Summary- Tim has always seen the numbers floating above people’s heads, been able to perceive their threat levels with a single glance. After being a hero for so long he thought he was desensitized to seeing high numbers above people’s heads until Damian brings a new friend home.

Part 1

Part 11

Part 12(HERE)

Part 13

____________________________________________

Jason had started cackling as soon as Tim explained why he was cross, pulling the ring from his hand and tossing it back to its proper owner. Damian Bruce and Alfred were intrigued by the prospect by the fact Jason was predestined to be a miraculous wielder. Dick, on the other hand, was pouting at Jason being ‘officially more of a cat than him.’

“You’re not a black cat,” Tim snapped, using the door frame to stay upright, glaring at the stark white number over Jason’s head, “He may claim he’s all about destruction but it’s who he was made into not who he is at his core.”

“What?” Jason huffed, “You’re the one that said my number went up to 15! I’m a cat now, I’m leaving the birds to join Selina.”

“No,” He nearly growled in frustration, staggering over to the couch, “Adrian is the real cat here. At his core, he’s sweet and kind and trustworthy, but he also has chaos at his center. He can destroy a person he believes deserves it without a second thought, tarnish a reputation permanently with no remorse if he believed it was the best course of action, manipulate a person into behaving how he wants with precision and grace without anyone realizing that the ray of sunshine would be able to do so. He’s literally destruction. You aren’t like that Jason, not at your core. You’re a true holder, but you aren’t a Black Cat.”

The room was silent as he finally finished and he couldn’t help, but look around at their stunned faces with confusion. Even the Kwamis had frozen from where they had been whispering on the side table, glancing between each other and Tim.

“What?” He snapped, too tired to deal with anything else tonight.

“You’ve only just met Adrian,” Kim drew out, “And just spouted off stuff I never knew about the sunshine boy with such confidence I’m pretty sure you’re not lying.”

“What do you mean? Of course, I know that stuff, can’t you guys tell it too? That’s just what I can tell from observing if I really wanted to know anything important about him I’d have to do research,” He explained with a groan as he leaned against Dick’s shoulder.

Dick just looked down at him in amazement, “No Timmy, most people can’t tell that kind of stuff just from spending a few hours with someone.”

“Huh? You guys never acted like I was crazy before,” He pointed out looking at his brothers.

“I always assumed you researched our targets before we needed the information,” Bruce hummed, “We had meant to ask you how you knew some of the skills you had listed when you had never met the heroes before making the entries in your journal.”

“I mean I did look up some stuff, but isn’t most of that stuff common knowledge?”

Jason snorted, “I didn’t know Bruce spoke Portuguese before reading his journal entry, replacement. I can say with confidence that there’s no video footage of B or Bats speaking or reading Portuguese anywhere or any reason you should know that before I even kicked the bucket.”

“I…” Tim tried to think back, to why he knew this information, where he had put together the man had known so many languages.

“Tim,” Marinette piped up, “What languages does everyone in here speak?”

“French and English.”

His deadpan earned an eye roll from her, “No, I meant past that. Start with your family and then my team, tell me all the languages. Go.”

He was skeptical of what she was trying to do but decided not to question it, “All the bat speak Mandarin, Spanish, Arabic, and BSL. Bruce knows Romanian, Portuguese, Dutch, Cantonese, and Greek. Alfred speaks German, Italian, Japanese, Russian, and Polish. Dick speaks Romani, Romanian, Dutch, and Russian. Jason has Portuguese, Japanese, Korean, Cantonese, and Russian. I can do Japanese, Romanian, German and Polish.

Damian knows Japanese, Korean, Cantonese, and is just short of fluent in Romanian.”

His eyes turned to the Parisian teens, ignoring the surprise at their extensive list of languages, “ Adrian knows Mardiran and Japanese. Chloe knows Japanese. Kim is fluent in Vietnamese and is nearing passable in German. Max knows Korean and Safan. Alix knows Ancient Egyptian and Arabic. Kagami knows Japanese and Mandarin. Viperion knew quite a bit of Italian but wasn’t quite fluent. Marinette knows Italian, is nearly fluent in Arabic and… actually, I’m not sure what the last one is, but it’s ancient, something close to Sino-Tibetan I think?”

Eyes flashed around the room, before settling on Tim.

“Seriously?” Tim groaned, “None of you knew that?”

Jason's eyes flashed to Damien, “Since when do you speak Romanian?”

He scowled, the tips of his ears burning, “It was going to be a surprise for Grayson, I was hoping to be fluent by his birthday…”

Marinette broke in before any of the brothers could make a comment, “Tim, Damien only practiced Romanian when he knew everyone was out of the house. Nor should you know about the Guardian Language.”

“Guardian Language?” He whispered, head too fuzzy for him to process more than that.

She winced a little, “When the role of Guardian was handed over to me, the language of the Guardians was basically downloaded into my head. It allows me to read the Guardian Grimoire and perform the spells within it to heal kwamis, fixing broken miraculous or create potions to allow them different abilities they don’t usually possess. Usually, there’s a lot of training to be able to deal with the new knowledge being shoved into their heads but my gaining of the guardianship was more than a little unorthodox so I had to deal with migraines for about six months after. I had to decode the secrets for myself even with knowing the language.”

“I don’t even know what the Guardian is,” Tim whispered as the truth set it, “I really shouldn’t know this stuff about you guys…”

“Another aspect of your power, no doubt,” Alfred cut in, “Hardly the worst thing in the world for a detective to have intuition-based knowledge of the people he’s looking up, hmm?”

Tim laughed, “Thanks, Alfred.”

The butler merely nodded, “However, I am fairly certain Master Tim hasn’t been truthful about how much sleep he’s gotten this week and a miraculous drain is dangerous even when well-rested, I suggest suspending this discussion until a proper hour?”

Damien gave him an innocuous look, “ You tried to lie to Pennyworth? Are you completely braindead.”

“Panicking over my secret being out means lots of comfort coffee,” He groaned back as he attempted to bury himself in Dick’s side.

“Go to sleep Replacement,” Jason huffed, as Dick pulled the other man to his feet. Zombie Tim's duty was something they all had plenty of experience in. It wasn’t long before he was stripped of his costume and sweatpants and an oversized tee pulled on over his bike shorts.

Tim barely registered the lights being turned off as he was bundled into bed, half asleep already.

When Tim arose the next morning he was surprised to see it was only 8 am, seven hours after when he remembered his brother’s getting him to bed. Typically, after the kind of crash, he felt last night he needed a solid thirteen hours of sleep and two cups of coffee to feel this alive again. His answer came from the tiny horse resting on the nightstand.

“Kaalki? What are you doing here?”

“Kwami healing,” She offered in an attempt to be nonchalant as she floated up in front of him, “ Tikki is best at it but every Kwami, barring Plagg, can offer some form of rejuvenation to those who need it. My way of healing is to replenish the energy that has been lost in a timely manner. It was the least I could do after causing you so much distress last night.”

Tim frowned and offered a flat hand for her to land on, “Don’t do that, there’s no blame on you or Marinette or anyone else. Accidents happen, and it’s not like there’s an instruction book on miraculous and metas.”

She fidgeted, “I believe you are correct but I still felt bad for causing such harm to befall you.”

Tim just shook his head, “Either way, thank you. I feel amazing right now.”

She smiled, “Perhaps if you hurry you can join your family for breakfast, I heard they were setting out to leave soon.”

He quickly pulled on his clothes and did his morning routine in the ensuite before entering the main room where his family froze in place as they were pulling on coats and shoes.

“What the fuck are you doing up?” Jason hissed, ready to force him back into bed.

“Kwami magic has its perks,” Tim defended, hands raised in surrender as Kaalki floated next to him, “I feel more awake then I have in years.”

Alfred grinned, “Ah yes, I remember how Duusu would help us relax after battles. Well come along then,

Marinette squinted at him judgingly, trying to figure out how he was allowed out by his family before Kaalki darted from his jacket over to Max’s. Instead, she just huffs and begins leading the entire group of heroes towards her parents’ bakery, Damien quickly falling in step to her left, glaring at Adrian who had fallen into step on her right.

“SO, replacement,” Jason drawled, dropping an arm around the short brother’s shoulders, “I didn’t get to ask last night cause you looked more zombie then me, but if I’m not a cat, what am I?”

“I don’t even know where to start with miraculous,” Tim huffed, pushing the older man away, “Where would I even start with which miraculous to give to you?”

“Well, how about we give you a starting point,” Adrian asked, turning to walk backwards so he could look at them with a twinkling smile, “Miraculous are broken into two categories, indirect and direct. Direct miraculous powers affect the target of the power directly like the Bee’s venom freezing someone, while the Indirect affect the world around the target, like the Horse’s teleportation. The Black Cat and Ladybug fall outside of the groupings as they’re both direct and indirect. Indirect users can’t use Direct miraculous effectively and can even have adverse effects of transforming too long and vice versa. So does Jason feel like a direct or indirect holder.”

“Indirect,” Tim started, finding the words just started flowing as he stared at the 11 swirling about over his brother’s head, “Jason’s cocky and more stubborn than the Blue Boyscout if you get him going, but he’s also loyal to a fault and filled with so much determination I’m not sure whether to be scared or impressed. No matter how angry he is at someone, or how much he thinks they deserve the consequences of their actions he will be there to protect them by any means necessary. He may talk tough and act stupid but he’s unbelievably wise with instincts unparalleled by normal humans when it comes to trust and how to get out of sticky situations. He can and will kill, but only if it’s the only option left to make it out of a situation alive.”

Jason scowled and pulled on the end of his jacket sleeve as he looked away, “Geez, rip me open why don’t you?”

“Hey, you asked,”

Marinette stared at him with a cryptic eye, “No, he’s right I can see it. I think I know what miraculous to give you.”

Tim’s attention fell away from the conversation as Jason tried to pry the newly found information from the young Guardian. Because that was the least of his worries.

Not when his eyes landed on vibrant blue hair, strikingly familiar, attached to a man sitting on the wall around the Seine, strumming his guitar absentmindedly.

“Found you,” Tim said, causing the man in front of him to smile up at him.

“That was quick,” He laughed, the thick gothic steel-colored 13 made his blue eyes take on a silver hue.

“It’s easy to spot such a high number when most don’t reach past six,” He shrugged.

“You and I aren’t very different, you know?” Steely grey 13 offered, looking back to his guitar.

“I think the masks gave that away,” Tim mussed, “I’m Tim.”

“Luka, Luka Couffaine,” Steely Grey 13, Viperion, Luka offered easily, “And I meant past the masks.”

“How do you mean then, Luka?”

The younger man looked up at him and waved a hand at the chair across from him, “How about you take a seat, Uccellino, and we can compare notes on what it’s like to be meta.”

____________________________________________

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