#[ IT'S A BETTER PLACE SINCE YOU CAME ALONG . ( tim drake / red robin ) ] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lady-literature · 4 years

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for us to collide (part 4)

anyway who actually expected me to end this thing in 4 chapters lol

rip me ig

After the not-so-impromptu interrogation courtesy of her friends (because there was no way they hadn’t planned that, it was too coordinated) Robin doesn’t stop by for two weeks.

Which is… fine. Marinette is plenty busy anyways. The extra time she has free now that she isn’t entertaining a bratty vigilante, goes to more productive uses of her time. Like watching bad horror movies with her friends and jeering at the horrible acting and special effects.

(Red Hood stops by in the middle of watching Grizzly Rage and proceeds to rant for twenty minutes about ‘shitty, unrealistic blood splatters’. Marinette has long since passed the point of being worried about it.)

So, yeah. She doesn’t see Robin.

But Damian, oddly enough, seeks her out.

It’s early, and there isn’t anyone else in the studio right now which means Marinette has her music blasting and she’s humming along as she hand paints silk for Clara’s dress. It’s loud and she’s in her zone, so it’s only by Tikki warning her that she realizes someone entered her sanctuary.

Her eyebrows raise when she sees who it is.

“Uh, bonjour Damian," she greets confusedly, reaching over to lower the volume on her speakers. "I hadn’t expected to see you here. Is there something you need?”

He stops before her workstation, only slightly bigger than the ones the rest of her staff use due to the sheer amount of open commissions she normally has. She has an actual office on this floor, but Chloé uses it more than she does. Marinette likes the open space and being around her designers more than she likes the privacy.

His eyes catch on the two bouquets of flowers she’s yet to take home, neither of which have even begun to wilt—and likely won’t. (She’ll have to take them home soon before people start asking questions.)

“I was called here by Father, but he’s currently indisposed. I’ve been told to wait.”

She waits a moment for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, she asks, “So you came to visit me?”

“Yours is the only tolerable presence to be found.” His lips purse, and he crosses his arms. “And that includes that imbecile Drake who is no doubt still in his office like the pitiful insomniac he is.”

Her tongue is already halfway around a joke about excuses—she didn’t befriend Felix for nothing, okay? She knows how people like Damian work—when she realizes what he just said.

“Wait. Tim’s been here all night?”

Damian snorts. “He certainly didn’t return to the manor.”

She’s out of her seat in an instant, frowning and muttering up a storm as she rummages through the storage cubes pushed up against the far wall. She has a blanket, pillow and plain cotton shirt in her hands before Damian registers that she even moved.

“I’m going to kill your brother,” she says simply. “Would you like to come with?”

She’s gotten closer to Tim since working in Wayne Tower. He’s a notorious recluse and rarely leaves his office when he’s in the building, but Marinette makes it a point to visit him during lunch and before she leaves for the night.

He isn’t one of her Waynes, but he is a Wayne and her Waynes love and care for him so there’s not much of a difference really. She does like to think they might be something close to friends at this point though. And if the way Tim comes down to visit whenever he ventures out of his office means something, she might even be right.

Another thing that should be noted, is that Marinette is very much a ‘ride or die’ kind of person when it comes to the people she cares about. She will ruthlessly bully her loved ones into taking better care of themselves on threat of death because she is the semi-hypocritical mom friend and damn proud of it.

Damian looks her up and down, eyes lingering on the items in her hands and the determined set to her jaw and says, “Of course.” Then he’s plucking her things from her hands, offering her his arm and saying, “Shall we?”

Marinette laughs as she loops her arm with his. “We shall.”

***

She spends ten minutes scolding Tim before wrangling him onto the couch in his office and wrapping him up in the blanket so tightly he’d need to be an escape artist to get out of it. He tries to struggle anyway, but Marinette has too much practice at this and he doesn’t stand a chance in hell.

Damian stands at her shoulder and smirks the entire time, eyes dancing with amusement as she forces the CEO of Wayne Enterprises to take a fucking nap. Then, she’s treated to the sound of his surprised laughter as she begins switching out all of Tim’s regular coffee for magic-decaf—not that Damian knows it’s magic.

(By the devilish smirk playing at his lips, she’s starting to think that maybe Damian really is just as sadistic as Duke and Jason say he is.)

***

Damian starts dropping by more often after that (read: starts dropping by at all). Not that Marinette minds. She quite likes his company, actually.

He normally stops by first thing in the morning when Marinette is the only one in the workshop, walking in like he owns the place. For the first couple days, he asks about Ladybug and the rest of Paris’ Court, claiming that he’s curious about them.

She answers them, but only as far as she’d answer them for any reporter and is careful not to give away any sensitive information not known to the public. He gets a bit frustrated at one point, complaining that she must know more, but she stays stubbornly silent about it and, sometimes, steers the conversation deftly to the Great Bat and his Flock instead.

He eventually stops asking about the Parisian superheroes and instead their morning conversations turn to a thousand random things. Complaints and anecdotes and a silly back and forth between the two.

Marinette’s never been much of a morning person but having Damian there to keep her company is… nice.

She almost finds herself looking forward to mornings now.

***

When her Waynes learn that she’s started a food kitchen and makes a habit of spending her weekend there, they immediately insist on joining her, despite her protests.

“You guys really don’t have to do this,” she says even though the three of them are already in their aprons and Cass is eyeing the boucher, Vivian, and her collection of knives with glittering interest.

Duke grins at her, “We know, M. But we want to.”

Jason finally turns back to her from where he’s been staring at the kitchen with something just shy of awe on his face. “You’re downright incredible, you know that?” he waves a hand out at the seating area, and then at the people in the kitchen assembling the healthiest and cost-efficient meals she and Felix could find after days spent researching. “I would’ve killed for something like this when I was on the streets.”

“It’s not just me who’s got this up and running-” she tries protesting but then Fiona, the woman Marinette actually put in charge of this place, is at her side and all but shoving the four of them into stations.

Marinette ends up by the pastries, like always, and she can see Jason making sandwiches. Duke's been roped into making eggs and bean casseroles and Cass, by some grace, actually ended up by Vivian and is having a blast cutting up all the meats as fast as she can.

They don’t stop until lunch, all four of them helping prepare meals for the upcoming week in bulk. After, they all go out for ice cream by the pier and Jason smears chocolate on her nose and Duke carries her around on his back when she complains about being tired.

Cass takes pictures of it all and later, Marinette gets them all printed out.

It ends up being a really good day.

***

The buzz from the charity gala and all the press regarding her and Damian’s non-existent relationship had calmed down weeks ago. There was still the odd article about Marinette being seen with her odd assortment of Waynes and the newspapers still called her ridiculous names when they got a picture, but it was about as close to normal as she gets.

The quiet lulled her into a false sense of security.

Ice Prince and Sweetheart Finally Seen on Date: Fairy Tale Romance or Publicity Stunt?

The ‘date’ in question was a coffee and lunch run for her designers and also Tim (because kwami knew he'd work through lunch if allowed).

Damian normally didn’t stay past Lilliane arriving in the morning (the poor dear was chronically late and always the last to arrive) but he hadn’t shown up until after she came that day and overcompensated by hours—which she hadn't minded. He kept to the fringes of her workspace and didn't distract her, instead focusing on his own thing. She wasn’t quite sure what he was up to, but she knew he was switching between his computer and sketchpad every so often.

(She's pretty sure he was hiding from Dick for some reason. He’s the only Wayne brother who doesn’t visit her at work, seeing as they have their bi-weekly gymnastic sessions; recently, with the addition of Mar’i, who still calls her ‘twin’ and whom Marinette still adores.)

And then lunch had rolled around, and it was Marinette’s turn to go out so she brought Damian with since he was still there.

They were out together for forty-five minutes. Tops.

“Why me?” she whines into the surface of her desk.

Damian, the asshole, just laughs at her and she can’t even be mad about it because he’s only just started laughing around her and not hiding behind so many of his walls. He laughs and Marinette knows it's precious so instead of shooting him the glower he deserves, she finds herself having to hide the smile slowly creeping on her face.

***

They’re splashed across the papers again less than a week later, only this time she has her Waynes there too.

Marinette's wearing her bright red sundress and she's somehow convinced Damian to wear a jacket with elaborate crowns and snowflakes embroidered up the sides. Because, as Chloé says: if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

They see the camera this time and the photo splashed across the page the next day is of Marinette laughing with Jason’s arm slung across her shoulders as both he and Damian flip off the camera. Meanwhile, Duke and Cass stand just far enough in frame to capture their expressions of pain and amusement respectively.

(Marinette makes a mental note to order apology gift baskets for the PR department.)

There are a lot of headlines the next day about Marinette’s ‘harem of Waynes’ and how she’s a ‘horrible influence on such bright children’. She spends about ten minutes trying to decide whether she should be horrified or laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it and eventually decides on both.

Adrien, the little shit, sees the headline and immediately prints it out to hang in her kitchen.

It reappears every time she tries to take it down.

***

Gotham does not smile upon daytime heroes.

Not to say that Gotham really smiles on anyone, but it’s especially vicious to those that think they’re owed anything. She’s heard the way Gothamites talk about Superman and The Flash—it’s not exactly what one would call adoring.

But Ladybug's been a daytime hero her entire career and it is not difficult to see that there's something distinctly different about the way daytime heroes and Gotham’s vigilantes operate.

Something more vicious, maybe; something more restrained.

Without the light of day and without the people’s eyes watching them at every moment, the Gotham Bats have become something else entirely.

Signal, their Daytime Protector, is especially strange.

A bat who's meta, straddling the line between day and night. The Day Patrol, trained by the night.

Sometimes, when she and Signal talk about heroing, there is such an odd type of disconnect that it throws her. Nothing horrible or major, but little things she’s sure she wouldn’t notice if she wasn’t so intimately familiar with it all herself.

They don’t always talk about heroing though. After two months, Ladybug is proud to say she seems to be worming her way past his outer shell nicely. He tried so hard to keep his distance from her, but Ladybug’s always liked a challenge, and it isn’t long before she has him relaxing around her.

Well, for a definition of relax anyway. He's still a bat after all.

But then, it’s pretty easy to get past Signal’s barriers when she’s already had practice breaking through the more stubborn bats like Robin and, to an extent, Hood. Not that Signal, or any of the bats, know that.

Which, speaking of the bats, isn’t it a bit weird she’s only met three spread across two of her alter egos? As Ladybug, she’d expect to be hounded by a few of them but the only one she’s met is Signal. She can’t decide if it’s because he’s the only one that operates in the daylight, or if they just don’t want to spook her into running or something.

Either way, they’re going to start giving her a complex. She’s heard so much about the rest of the Batfamily, and not one of them even wants to meet her? Either her?

(Maybe Marinette should ask Robin and Hood what’s up with that? The way they talk about how nosy Red Robin is, she’s surprised he didn’t drop by months ago and- is it weird that she’s offended by vigilantes not prying into her private life?

…Probably.)

***

Marinette blinks, stopping dead in her tracks.

Damian's on her fainting couch, sketchpad in his lap as he waits for her.

“Why are you wearing a beanie?” she blurts out instead of greeting him like a normal person. "You never wear beanies."

Luckily, Damian scowls at her question rather than at her. It’s a subtle but very important difference.

“Sorry,” she apologizes anyway, putting her bag down. “I haven't had coffee yet.”

He hums, then nods to her desk where she finds a steaming to-go mug. Her face lights up and she quickly snatches it, breathing deeply the lovely aroma. “You’re a godsend.”

That brings a quirk to his lips, closer to a smirk than a smile, but progress nonetheless.

After a moment, where she sips at her overly sugary monstrosity—just the way she likes it, when had Damian even noticed that?—and he continues sketching she asks again. “Okay but, I actually am kinda curious. What’s up with the hat?”

He sighs heavily, closing his pad. “It’s… better than the alternative.”

Marinette snorts. “Alternative to what? A top hat?” But instead of snapping back like she expects, he just continues to frown. Immediately, her lips turn down into a concerned frown. “Is there something wrong?”

“Yes,” he grounds out and Marinette puts her coffee down. She’s just about to open her mouth and say something else when he reaches up and rips the beanie off his head.

For the second time in less than five minutes, she stops dead.

Marinette opens her mouth. Closes it. Blinks, but the scene doesn't change.

His hair is still blue.

Damian Wayne's hair is blue.

Damian Wayne’s hair is vibrantly electric blue.

Her hand shoots up to cover her mouth as she tries to stifle her giggles.

Damian’s scowl deepens. He moves to shove his ridiculous beanie back on his head but her hand snaps out before he can.

“No! No, I’m sorry I just-” she giggles again. “You looked so upset by it and you took me by surprise. I like it!”

He glares up at her, still sat on the fainting couch so it’s her who has the height advantage for once.

“Don’t patronize me.”

She rolls her eyes, the hand that wasn’t settled on his arm reaching up to touch the bright strands. It's slow enough that he can stop her, but he, surprisingly, makes no move to.

His hair is a lot softer than she expects it to be. But she supposes he didn’t use that gel stuff today, planning on keeping his hair under a hat the whole time.

“It looks good on you,” she says softly.

He snorts disbelievingly and she smacks his shoulder lightly. “It’s true! I swear you could look good in any color.” She clicks her tongue longingly. “I wish I had your skin tone. I’m too pale to wear pastels like I want.”

He wrinkles his nose at her. “Pastels?”

“Oh you hush,” she quips, finally pulling her hand from his hair. “Anyway, if you don’t like it, why’d you dye it blue in the first place?”

“I… lost a wager with Todd.”

She laughs, starting to move around and get ready for the day. She doesn’t have any meetings scheduled, which means she gets the whole day to create. She’s pretty excited about it.

“I should’ve guessed it was Jason’s doing.”

Damian shrugs, settling back into the cushions. He drapes himself across them in a way that’s effortlessly elegant and like he’s ready to be photographed for a magazine cover or something. Must all her friends be so pretty? It’s playing hell on her self-esteem.

“But blue is your favorite color, right? So there’s that at least.”

Damian hums. “Todd had threatened to dye it pink or some other equally garish color.”

“Hey!” she exclaims in mock outrage. “What’s wrong with pink? I’ve been wanting to dye my hair pink for ages.”

“Nothing. It’s just simply not a color I appreciate.” He makes a face. “Like orange.”

Marinette huffs, but there’s a smile on her lips. It's quiet for a moment, for long enough that she thinks the conversation's been dropped. But then-

“Why don’t you?”

“Huh?”

“Why haven’t you dyed your hair?” he repeats. “Your friends—Couffaine and… Kubdel? They both have colored hair.”

Marinette shrugs. “I dunno. Never got around to it I guess. I suppose I could do it now. Dye mine in solidarity,” she jokes. “Oh! We could match even! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“I thought you wanted pink?”

“Well, yeah. But blue is nice too. Besides,” she smiles wryly over her shoulder, “you just said pink was ‘garish’.”

Damian frowns slightly, shaking his head, “On me, perhaps. But I think you’d look very fetching in pink.”

“Oh,” Marinette pauses, feeling her face grow warm at the sudden compliment. “Well- Uh, pink it is, then.”

***

(Damian watches the blush rise on her cheeks as she turns away to try and hide it. Yes, he can’t help but think, fetching in pink, indeed.)

***

Luka insists on being the one to dye her hair, citing that he’s the one who had dibs all these years, but Alix and Jason both all but demand to be there too.

Her bathroom is not big enough for all four of them to sit in.

Not a single one of them cares.

Cass and Duke ask for progress pics along with Uncle Jay, and all her Parisian friends cycle through standing at the bathroom door to see how it's going.

The constant stream of people looking at her makes her feel not unlike an animal at a zoo. (When she wryly tells this to Alix, all she gets is her friend cackling on the ground.)

But, after all the bleaching and conditioning and waiting, she stares into the mirror with soft pink hair the color of bubblegum and thinks, yeah, it was worth it.

She thinks it again when Damian walks in the next day and almost trips over his own feet.

(She’s also wearing her Robin themed sundress, complete with hood, matching boots and personal touches not found on the mass-produced version—but Marinette doesn’t know why that would be relevant.)

Her favorite reaction to her new hair color though is, by far, Mar’i’s.

Marinette doesn’t see the young Grayson until a week later when she’s invited to the monthly family dinner Alfred insists all the Waynes attend—which includes her now, apparently (she tries not to show how pleased she is by that).

She arrived with Damian, who was kind enough to pick Tim and her up from work, and Mar’i takes one look at Damian and her standing next to one another before she starts babbling excitedly about Lilo and Stitch and Angel. A character who is—apparently—Stitch’s girlfriend and the complimentary pink to his blue.

Marinette is momentarily surprised, but Mar’i’s enthusiasm is contagious and it isn’t long before the rest of the Waynes are teasingly calling them Angel and Stitch. Marinette thinks it’s all very funny and adorable.

Damian, on the other hand, most certainly does not and threatens everyone who calls him that ‘ridiculous nickname’ with graphic depictions of bodily harm.

‘Angel’, oddly enough, sticks for Marinette. She finds she kind of likes it.

***

Later, Damian asks her about nicknames.

Well, he calls them ‘asinine titles’ and doesn’t so much ask as demand she explain why she allows anyone to call her by them seeing as she has a ‘perfectly serviceable name,’ in his opinion.

Ignoring the fact that she’s heard Dick call him multiple nicknames he hadn’t protested to, she says, “Well, I guess it’s that everyone uses Marinette. A nickname is something… special. A little more personal, I guess. And, I dunno. My parents named me Marinette, but it’s nice to share something between other people. And it shows they care.”

Damian looks confused after she’s done, but also thoughtful. He doesn’t say anything to that and Marinette doesn’t really expect anything to come of it.

She's proven wrong when, a week later, Damian calls her Starling instead of Marinette.

(And the transition from Dupain-Cheng to Marinette had been enough to make her beam—this is just ridiculous.)

***

When Robin disappears a second time, Marinette doesn’t get the chance to notice his absence on her own. He’s only stopped showing up four days ago—which is longer than normal, but not unheard of—when she hears unfamiliar voices on her balcony.

Looking out, she finds three semi-familiar individuals clustered around the plate of treats she leaves out for Robin and Hood.

Nightwing and Red Robin are both stuffing their faces full of the fruit tarts she had made while Spoiler glares at them and seems to be cursing the fact that her mask covers her mouth the same way Hood always does when she makes those raspberry scones he likes.

The scene is… odd. For many reasons but most pressingly that their arrival has come out of nowhere.

“Well,” Nightwing explains when she asks, “We wanted to visit ages ago, but baby bird threatened to stab us all if we tried.”

“He’s very… particular about you,” Red Robin tacks on while Spoiler nods sagely like she hasn’t crafted some strange straw monstrosity just so she can drink tea while still wearing her mask. Red Robin has one too, but his for the aesthetic rather than out of necessity.

Marinette stares at the three of them. “That… does not explain why you are here now.”

“Robin can’t stop us now, obviously,” Red Robin says casually, like he hasn't just kicked her heart into high gear with a few words.

“What? Why?” she demands, trying very hard not to sound panicked. “Is he okay? Was he hurt?”

Red Robin blinks, going quiet in that way Hood and Robin do when they’re judging her just a bit. She hates this family.

“No, he’s… fine.”

“B’s just benched him for the time being,” Nightwing helpfully supplies, amusement flickering at the edges of his lips. “He’s a little too… conspicuous at the moment.”

Marinette’s shoulders relax even as her brows furrow. Conspicuous? What in the world is that supposed to mean?

“Does that mean he won’t be coming around for a while?” she asks before she can think better of it.

The three vigilantes in front of her share a look before Spoiler says, “Probably. But the gremlin’s never been one to sit still so who knows?” she smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners as she leans toward Marinette conspiratorially. “But don’t worry. We can keep you company in the meantime!”

“We’re much better company than the demon anyway. Certainly less insulting.”

“Oh, he’s not that bad. He’s an ass, for sure, but you can tell when he means it and when he’s just stumbling over himself.” Marinette smiles fondly, “For someone so dignified, he trips over his tongue quite often.”

Now the vigilantes are really staring at her. She’s starting to feel pretty uncomfortable about it all when Nightwing beams at her, jumping up from his seat to sweep her into a hug. It startles her, but she doesn’t push him away, instead laughing at the sudden affection.

“Oh you really are perfect!” he exclaims, setting her down and still grinning like an absolute lunatic.

She’s smiling, because Nightwing’s joy is infectious, but she's even more confused than before. And then, before she can ask what he means, Red Robin’s wrist computer lights up—and damn, isn’t that cool? Marinette wonders if Tikki could do something like that for the Ladybug suit—and the three are moving to swing back out into the night.

She waves them off and they all promise to visit again.

Marinette shakes her head before going back inside with the empty pastry plate and four empty mugs.

***

Damian knows of Marinette’s friends of course. It'd take more effort not to when she talks about them every chance she gets and tells him all the wild stories about their escapades and misadventures.

(They also all came up in the background check he ran on her when they first met.)

Most of her friends are exceedingly normal oddly enough. Well, they’re all mildly famous and the leaders of their various fields, but they’re just civilians.

The only exceptions being, Bourgeois, Agreste, and Graham de Vanily.

Bourgeois is a former hero like Marinette, only she doesn't seem to still be in contact with the Parisian Court. All the articles he could find spoke about how Queen Bee was deemed unfit for her mantle and later replaced by the new bee hero, Ambrosia. Agreste was caught up in the scandal of his father being Hawkmoth, but he was found innocent and ignorant of his father's crimes (something Damian made sure to confirm). He now works at and is being groomed to own the bakery Marinette's parents run, seeing as their daughter has little interest to do it herself.

And finally, Graham de Vanily, Agreste's cousin, has a history of causing trouble wherever he goes. Nothing villainous, and rarely even malicious, but there's something about him that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Not everything is as it seems with the Graham de Vanily heir.

Besides those three outliers, Marinette's friends seem to be untouched by the vigilante life. Which means he thinks they must be utterly boring.

Only, when her friends start coming around to visit and drag her out for lunch or some other random outing, Damian keeps finding himself baffled by each of them.

They act strangely and with a dangerous air none of them should possess, except for Tsurugi. The questions they ask him are strange and the jokes they make have no sense. He's been warned about how he better treat Marinette so many times, he's started to lose count. (Which is ridiculous. He treats her just fine and would never intentionally harm her. What are they trying to insinuate?)

But, by far, his most memorable encounter is with Lahiffe. A veritable wolf in sheep's clothing.

Marinette is excitedly babbling about her newest idea for her summer collection, pressed up against him on the chaise and practically shoving her sketches in his face as she demands his critique and thoughts.

Her hands are waving every which way and, on more than one occasion, he has to quickly lean back so she doesn't hit him in the face.

He’s focusing on what she’s saying so much—because she has a habit of forgetting things if she doesn’t write them down and needs someone to remind her of the ideas she had at a later time—that he doesn’t even realize Lahiffe is there until he clears his throat.

Marinette jumps, almost elbowing him in the stomach. “Nino!” she shouts, springing up and flinging herself at the other man who catches her like this is something she does often.

“Heya, Nettie.”

“Wait- what are you doing here? You’re not-” she jolts back to look at Lahiffe’s amused expression. “Oh kwami, is it time already? Shit. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m so sorry! I have to give this one thing to Publishing but then I promise we can go, okay? Like, just five minutes!”

She's already moving before she finishes speaking, sweeping up papers and rearranging files and putting things away with all the swiftness and agility of a speedster. Damian watches her go about her routine, occasionally handing her something she’s dropped or pointing out a thing she’s missed, weaving around her chaos with practiced ease.

Then she’s sweeping out of the office with a distracted “be right back!” and he’s alone with Lahiffe.

The second Marinette leaves, the man’s attention swings onto him with a strange weight. For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything and Damian’s hackles raise with every passing second.

He doesn’t snap at him though, because he’s one of Marinette’s friends. Insulting him would only serve to make her upset and that’s something Damian's been trying to avoid causing as of late.

“Man,” Lahiffe says at last. “Alix wasn’t kidding about the whole besotted thing, huh?”

Damian rears back, straightening up to his full height. “I beg your pardon?”

Lahiffe laughs and waves his hand about like that’s supposed to mean something. “Ah, no need to be embarrassed about it, dude. You’re far from the first of us to fall for her charms.”

“What.”

“Yeah, we've all been there. I think over half of the Paris crew crushed on her at some point, including myself. None of us are into her like that anymore, so as long as you treat her right, you got nothing to worry about."

“I’m not- I'm not interested in Marinette,” Damian tries to protest but Lahiffe just calmly steamrolls over him.

“Nah. Everyone loves Nettie. It’s universal law or something. First, there was me and Adrien, then Luka—who she actually liked back for a while there but are now practically siblings. Chloé liked her in collége, but she hadn’t really come to terms with that at the time. Alix might’ve, but she’s pretty grey-ace and fluctuates on the romance points, so who knows.

“Oh! And Nath. He also snagged a date with her, but he was an Akuma at the time so I’m not technically sure that it counts. And he’s with Marc now anyway. Thinking of adopting a kid, last I heard. Anyway- my point was: everyone loves Nettie. And don’t bother trying to fight it, because it only makes her pull of gravity worse.”

Lahiffe then claps him on the shoulder like their talk amiable and not the most confusing speech Damian’s ever heard.

And then he doesn’t even get to say anything to that because Marinette is sprinting back through the door, grabbing her jacket and bag, telling him goodbye, and dragging Lahiffe out to who knows where.

Damian stands there longer than he cares to admit trying to make the world make sense again.

***

A week and a half after she learned Robin was benched, Damian catches her staring off into space as she doodles tiny robins in the margins of her sketchbook.

He gives her an odd look when she scrambles to hide them, blushing hotly and babbling about how she’s “Just fine! Nothing to worry about! I’m just, maybe, perhaps, a little worried for a friend even though I shouldn’t be, because his family says he’s just fine and-”

He looks contemplative when he leaves that day, but he didn’t ask about her outburst, so she extends the same courtesy to him.

***

That night, Robin returns.

“What,” she says around the laughter threatening to bubble out of her throat, “are you wearing?”

Robin scowls from behind the full cowl he has on that she’s pretty sure belongs to Red Robin. It makes him look a whole ten years older and she can’t get over how ridiculous he looks. If he keeps doing stupid things with his face while wearing that monstrosity, she is definitely going to laugh at him.

“What are you wearing?” he shoots back petulantly.

She blinks in confusion, then realizes she’s still wearing her Red Hood inspired jacket right now. Tan colored fake leather with fuzzy, red inner lining, done with all the same pockets, buttons, and zippers Red Hood has on his own jacket. It looks almost exactly like the jacket she fixed for him all that time ago, except she's also added a soft, crimson hood and his own personal bat symbol stitched across her shoulder blades.

As far as things she's designed goes, this is one of her simpler ones. It's nothing like the elaborate creations she makes for the Ambrosia or Ryuko themed items.

But Red Hood was a simple kind of person, and she likes that it’s reflected in her work.

Robin doesn't seem to agree if the poorly concealed disdain on his face means anything.

“What?” she asks teasingly, “You jealous?”

He scoffs and looks off to the side. “Of course not. I simply do not understand why you’d want anything to do with that simpleton. Especially not when I know you have clothing articles referencing far superior individuals.”

She snorts good-naturedly, "What 'individuals'? You mean you?"

The way he raises his nose self importantly is answer enough, and she can't stop herself from rolling his eyes. "Well, it's certainly a start. But I'm not the only one."

"Oh, yeah? And who else is marvelous enough to stand on the same level as you?"

"Multimouse."

Her mouth goes dry, and she can tell Robin is pointedly not looking at her.

“Come inside,” she blurts in lieu of all the things she really wants to say—which are mostly just embarrassing variations of I missed you. “I can, uh, make us tea. If you want.”

It's the first time she’s ever invited him inside and she can see the small bit of shock on his face—well, what she can see of it anyway—before he schools it.

“Yes,” he says in a tone of voice that implies it was his idea in the first place. “That sounds… good.”

She steps aside, allowing him to pass her by into the flat. Only instead of just walking past her, he stops halfway through the doorway and stares at her. She’s about to ask what’s wrong when he reaches out with his hand to gently grab a lock of her hair.

“Pink suits you, by the way.”

She quirks her lips, “Yeah? You don’t think it’s… too much?”

The corners of his mouth turn down, “Absolutely not. You look…” he trails off, mouth flattening into a line and dropping his hand.

She blinks at the odd behavior. “Nice?” she offers tentatively.

He nods, but it’s a little jerky and strange. But before she can ask about it, he’s already turning to enter her flat like he owns the place, remarking about her choices of tea and if she’s finally acquired an ‘adequate teapot’.

She shakes off the moment and goes in to follow him before he wrecks her kitchen in his careless search for tea supplies.

***

MinnieMouse: COME GET YALL JUICE

and by juice i mean me

I still do not have an american license

JaneAustenStanAccount: what do we get out of it?

MinnieMouse: ???

the pleasure of my company??

also youre literally the one that invited me to watch megamind

JaneAustenStanAccount: and??

daisyduke: shut up jay

we all know youre soft for M stop tryin to play tough

MinnieMouse: this is why duke is my favorite

he’s a living callout post

swanlake: :(

MinnieMouse: second favorite

im so sorry cass ily

swanlake: :)

daisyduke: i aint even mad

JaneAustenStanAccount: I AM

guys wtf

MinnieMouse: you brought this on yourself

maybe you should be nicer to me

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

daisyduke: ‘get fucked jason’ -marinette 2k20

btw im omw for you now

MinnieMouse: thnx ur the best

also im bringing scones as movie snack

daisyduke: noice

swanlake: !!!

JaneAustenStanAccount: FUCK YEAH!!!

MinnieMouse: you dont get any Jay

JaneAustenStanAccount: >:(

i hate it here

***

Marinette doesn’t know a lot about Robin’s past, which she assumes is by design. Secret identities don’t lead well to handing out details and concrete information about one’s personal life.

But, she thinks, one would have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to not see that whatever facsimile of a childhood Robin had was about eight different levels of fucked up.

It’s in the vague allusions to ‘training’ and the scorn filled way he says the word ‘mother’. It’s in the not-quite-confusion—because whatever family he has is better now, at least—of Marinette telling him about her own parents. About the happy memories she’s shared with them, of learning to bake bread and croissants and macaroons under the loving guidance of her father and practicing delicate designs and frosting techniques with her mother.

So, yeah. She knows he’s kind of messed up and definitely checks off the childhood trauma box that’s apparently one of the requirements for being her friend.

So when Robin suddenly decides to go against everything she’s learned about him up until this point and actually share something about himself—and when that thing he shares just so happens to be a story from his childhood—well… Marinette wouldn’t say she’s prepared, but she’s not- prepared.

He’s in her kitchen, because Marinette has learned her lesson about bleeding vigilantes on her couch, and she’s pretty sure he could’ve gone back to the Cave for this, but he came here for whatever reason. (Was closer, he said. Marinette doesn’t know if she believes him.)

She’s cleaning the knife wound on his arm, and she has his cape laid out across her island. There’s a hole in it she plans on sewing back up after she finishes sewing the hole in her reckless vigilante back up.

“You need to be more careful,” she scolds. “You’re lucky this didn’t nick something important.”

“It's hardly the worst wound I’ve ever acquired,” he tells her in a tone of voice that he probably thinks is reasonable. “At seven years old I had to dig a bullet out of my side in the middle of a Himilayan snowstorm while still making it back to base with time to spare after having successfully assassinated a Russian ambassador.”

Marinette pauses where she’s smoothing the gauze onto his bicep. Her eyes flick up to his, and she sees the exact moment he seems to realize what he just told her. He’s gone utterly still beneath her hands, with terror or worry or the effort it takes not to bolt out the window immediately, she doesn’t know.

“That’s horrifying,” she tells him as she finishes securing the obnoxiously bright bandage, “Never tell me that story again.”

She then drops a kiss onto his bicep, subtly imbuing it with enough luck that it will keep off any infection—the wound was filthy when he came in, seriously, was he in a sewer?—and pats his cheek warmly before moving to clean up all her supplies.

She feels his eyes on her the rest of the night, but every time she turns to him, she can’t tell what he’s thinking. All she knows is that he seems… softer, in a way.

***

Three days after Marinette’s unexpected look into Robin’s past, she finds a box on her desk. It’s a jewelry box, and the only reason she doesn’t immediately freak out is the fact that it lacks any of the miracle box markings.

Still, she opens it hesitantly, and inside, she finds a necklace. A completely normal, non-magical necklace that’s simple and pretty and very much shaped like a tiny toy mouse.

There is no note.

***

(Lahiffe was right.

The Earth spins around the sun. The sky is blue.

Everyone loves Marinette.)

***

The necklace is obviously supposed to be a reference to her Multimouse days, but that doesn’t exactly narrow down who could have left it for her.

Or well, it does, but all the people it narrows down to don’t make any sense.

Multimouse is a badly kept secret, but it’s still a secret. Most people outside Paris don’t know about her and the people in Paris didn’t exactly recognize her off the street either.

Her Court knows, obviously, and so do the Waynes and the bats. But her Court wouldn’t leave her mouse themed gifts, they tend toward ladybugs or their own animal motif as a gift (the amount of cat and bee themed items she owns is ludicrous).

Which leaves the Waynes and the bats.

But her Waynes wouldn’t leave the gift on her desk, and they certainly wouldn’t forget to put a note, so Duke, Jason, and Cass are out.

She must stand there thinking about it too long, because then Jeremy's walking in, just as bright and early as ever.

He sees her holding the box and his face turns a strange mix of curious and outraged. “Is it your birthday? I swear, Boss if you didn't tell us it was your birthday-”

“No, Jeremy,” she says, amused despite her confusion. “That’s not for a while yet. I found this when I walked in,” she shakes the box slightly for emphasis, “but there wasn’t a note.”

“Oh.” A smile slowly spreads across Jeremy’s face. “Oh?” he purrs, waggling his eyebrows at her. “Does the boss have a secret admirer?”

Marinette blinks and- what?

“What? No. I can’t- That doesn’t-” she splutters but Jeremy just laughs and walks over to his station to start setting up for the day, leaving Marinette to her breakdown.

Because this can’t have been left by a secret admirer. That’s just crazy.

There are exactly two people who could’ve left this for her and neither of them would be an admirer of any kind. And she wouldn’t want them to be anyway because that would be stupid and ridiculous and weird.

She doesn’t like Robin or Damian like that…

Right?

***

(It’s impossible not to love her, he realizes, mostly by accident.

She loves, wholeheartedly and unafraid and so much more than Damian had ever thought one person could. She loves with a ferocity and passion no person deserves or can match.

And Damian, foolishly, loves and wishes to be loved by her anyway.)

***

There are roses on her desk the next day, potted and still healthy.

The day after that, there’s a box of expensive chocolates. Like, the kind only Adrien, Felix, and Chloé buy without a second thought. The gossip has spread far enough that all of her designers know about the gifts and probably-admirer.

On the fourth day, there is a box full of high-quality pencils and a new sketchbook, one with nice thick drafting paper, but small enough to fit in her favored bag. Her name is embossed across the front, along with her personal motif of delicate apple blossoms.

On the fifth day, she shows up to find there is only a drawing, which should point to it being Damian, but drawing-her is holding a robin in her cupped palms which cannot be a coincidence. Drawing-her also looks serene and beautiful with her mouth curved slightly and her eyes gentle and soft and Marinette is as touched by the image as she is frustrated by it.

There are hair sticks on the sixth, and delicate pins shaped like flowers on the seventh. Another stunning drawing of her on the eighth, a bottle of wine older than Master Fu on the ninth, the softest cashmere blanket on the tenth, a basket of sweet floral lotions, a glass statue of a bird in flight—she gets so many gifts, Marinette has to stop keeping count.

It’s somewhere around day six that her designers must’ve ratted on her to either Felix or Chloé because it’s not long after that, that all of her friends learn about the gifts and start being terrifically unhelpful about the whole situation.

They each try to give her advice, which would be sweet if it wasn’t all equally terrible and conflicting.

They’re also placing bets on who they think her admirer is, Damian or Robin. They’re trying to be discreet about it—which means they’re failing miserably.

Marinette, admittedly, never expected any different from them.

***

Marinette begins watching Damian in the mornings with a newfound interest.

The gifts are always there before she arrives, which means they're also there before Damian arrives, so she’s in a prime position to catch his reaction.

Or, she would be, if he ever reacted. He barely glances at them and never says anything unless the gift is particularly obnoxious, like the giant stuffed mouse she found sitting in her chair last week. (It was almost as big as she was. Adrien, Nino, and Alix had ended up on the floor from laughing so hard when they’d seen it.)

Damian almost never comments on the gift she received that day, but whenever she uses or wears something that her mysterious admirer had gotten for her, he makes sure to compliment her. Which would be very suspicious except that Robin does the same thing.

It’s just- they’re both so frustratingly silent about it all! Marinette is this close to just grabbing one or both of them by the shoulders and just shaking until they tell the truth.

It’s driving her insane! Before the necklace appeared on her desk, she didn’t even know that she liked Robin and Damian.

And now she’s overanalyzing their nonreactions. She hates it.

It feels too much like she’s back in collège, trying to sort out her feelings for Adrien and Chat. (Who ended up being the same person—which was just very inconsiderate of him, really. The least he could do is let her angst have meaning dammit!)

And- ugh. What if she doesn't even like either of them? What if her mind is just making her think she does because the idea of them liking her was presented? What then? Or what about the fact that the two boys are also ridiculously similar when she thinks about it. What if she only likes one and is just projecting her feelings onto the other because her mind associates the two?

Oh, she doesn’t like that thought. That thought makes her feel upset and like she wants to cry into a tub of ice cream.

Nino happily indulges her and doesn't even complain when she eats her way through his stash of mint chip as she dramatically complains about stupidly confusing boys.

Honestly, she may as well be back in lycée.

***

(What Marinette does not realize in the midst of all her careful analysis of his reactions, is that it’s not the gifts he’s focused on.

When she wears the necklace and hair sticks, she misses the way his eyes linger on the slope of her neck. As she cares for her roses, she doesn’t notice the way he follows the easy nimbleness of her fingers. She uses her sketchbook and eats the expensive chocolates and doesn’t pay attention to the way he steals glances at her lips. She doesn't see the way his hands twitch when she ventures just near enough to touch.

(She exists next to him, in any form or light, and he is captivated by her very presence.)

Marinette looks, but it is in all the wrong places.)

***

Strangely enough, it’s Signal who helps her with her internal crisis—completely unintentionally and in a very roundabout way—but he helps all the same.

He’s taken an… interest, she supposes, in her magic. One that is entirely his own and has very little to do with that Bat from what she can tell.

His abilities and hers stem from different origins, but she would be lying if she said his weren’t oddly complementary to her own. His precognition abilities stemming from his photokinesis has been useful on more than one occasion regarding the experimental spell matrices she, Tikki, and Nooroo have been testing out.

The magic is normally invisible to people without a Miraculous, but Signal seems to have little trouble seeing what she’s doing, even if he can’t interact with it the way she can.

(There is also the fact that she seems… more when he is around. Days that he spends watching her do her work go by faster and smoother than when he is away. Her magic is easier, and her mind spins with ideas and creations faster.

It’s an odd phenomenon and Ladybug is looking into it.)

There has been more than one occasion where Signal had warned her of the matrix’s imminent collapse with enough time for her to prepare herself for its blowback.

The version she’s working on today is their fifth iteration. It’s supposed to pull the miasma out of the building, filter it through her and Tikki’s own magical energy, before flowing back into the brickwork. Marinette had thought of the idea while talking with Nooroo.

If she can get it to work, it will shift the misfortune into good luck and order and release it back into the environment. Then she’ll only need to cleanse strategic portions of the city in a lattice network, and the creative and destructive energies will mix from there, balancing themselves without much input from her at all.

Of course, that’s only if she can actually get it to work. It’s been almost a month and this is the fifth version and it’s already collapsed on her three times in the last hour. Signal must see the frustration on her face and has taken to trying to distract her with small talk.

She’s very thankful for it, actually. If he wasn’t doing that, she would probably start screaming right here and now, on this random rooftop in the residential district. Which would just be very startling and embarrassing for everyone involved, so. You know. Glad she doesn’t have to do that.

Eventually, she asks him, apropos of nothing, “You’re a detective right?”

He pauses, and blinks at her, likely trying to follow the train of thought that led her to that question. She assumes he did not find it because when he speaks, he still sounds confused.

“Yes? I guess that’s technically what I am.”

“So you’re good at figuring out who’s behind a crime?”

Signal only looks more confused. “Yeah? But Ladybug, what-”

“Great, so. Hypothetically, if you had two suspects for a—well it’s not a crime. A… thing? Situation. How would you figure out which one of them is actually behind the… situation?”

Signal’s lips quirk, just a bit despite his confusion. “I think I’m gonna need a little more to go on than just ‘a situation,’ LB.”

Ladybug purses her lips and stares down at the light weaving intricate patterns in the space between her palms. Slowly, carefully, she tells him, “There are items being left where a person can find them. But the identity of the person leaving them and their intentions are unknown.”

“Are the items dangerous?” he asks worriedly.

Ladybug shakes her head. “No. They're more like gifts.”

“Are the gifts unwanted or creepy? Unsettling? Threatening?”

Another head shake. “Just confusing and… thoughtful.”

“Someone is leaving you thoughtful gifts and you're worried about that… why?” Signal asks, slowly and disbelievingly.

“It’s because I- wait! I’m not the person!” she panics, causing the magic to spark dangerously in her hands but she barely notices. “The person doesn’t even exist. It was a hypothetical question!”

Signal stares at her. She can’t see his eyes or the top half of his face, but she just knows he’s raising his eyebrow judgingly at her.

“Stop that!” she snaps. “Stop being perceptive! I have enough perceptive people in my life so knock it off!”

Signal laughs like the horrible person he is. “But don’t you need me to be perceptive? That’s like, a requirement to be a detective.”

“Stop it,” she says again, mulishly and very childish.

And isn’t that an odd thought to have? Ladybug being childish.

How novel. Ladybug has never once been childish. She can’t afford to be, because when she is behind the mask, she is all the most important parts of herself. She is the Grand Guardian, is the one who must be in control at all times because she has an entire team to keep safe and alive.

Behind the mask, she’s all of her greatest responsibilities.

But here, in Gotham and with Signal, she is none of those things to him. She is simply another hero, that is his age and very much like him in ways so few are. Ladybug, in the moments she spends with Signal, is probably the closest she has ever been to carefree while in the mask.

It’s as comforting a thought as it is terrifying.

Signal raises his hands in surrender, but his lips are still quirked in amusement.

Ladybug regrets starting this conversation.

She regrets it even more when, five minutes later, Signal manages to pull the rest of the story from her… along with a name.

She realizes her mistake a second too late to stop herself, and then all she can do is watch.

She watches, with ever-growing horror, as Signal slowly puts the pieces together. She watches, as her whole secret identity starts unraveling around her for the first time ever. She watches, stricken, as Signal opens his mouth to speak.

And then she grabs both sides of his head and Orders him to sleep.

***

The second Marinette bespells him, she regrets it.

She was panicking, okay? And Marinette panicking is very different from Ladybug panicking and truly, she creates messes just by existing.

Nooroo flies out of his hiding place to make distressed noises at the now unconscious Signal with her, which is… actually kinda soothing, if not exactly helpful.

At least she knows she’s not the only one upset right now.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no!” Nooroo frets, flitting around her head with agitated wings. Hers aren’t much better, if she’s being honest. “What are we going to do, Guardian? He knows who you are! This is bad.”

Marinette worries her thumb between her teeth, shifting her weight from foot to foot. With a thought, she's back in her civvies and Tikki is perched on her shoulder, blinking at the scene she’s suddenly a part of.

“Well,” Tikki says, sounding far too calm for the situation. “This isn’t ideal.”

The laugh that escapes Marinette is on the edge of hysterical. “You think?”

“It’s not ideal,” Tikki repeats firmly, “But neither is it a disaster.”

Nooroo lands on her other shoulder as she kneels down beside Signal to rearrange his limbs to not be so uncomfortable. “But he's unpredictable!” he argues, curling into the side of her neck like she will hide him from the world. “We don’t know what he’ll do with this information!”

Tikki hums thoughtfully. “Then we will have to ask. There are far worse people we could have been revealed to. We're lucky it was a friend rather than foe.”

“You think so?” Marinette asks softly, voice barely louder than a whisper.

She knows the Bat’s flock are good people. Many of them are her friends, or people she hopes to call friends soon.

But she doesn't know if these people Marinette calls friends could be Ladybug’s allies.

The bats hoard secrets like black holes, and perhaps they would keep hers just as well, but they could just as easily use it against her. Batman barely tolerates her presence, she can tell by the way Signal talks sometimes, and it is no small stretch of the imagination that he would use this to try and kick her out of Gotham.

Marinette cannot, as a Guardian, leave Gotham.

But more importantly, she doesn’t want to leave Gotham. It’s… her home now. Her friends are here. Her family is here. Robin and Hood and the other bats are here. Damian and all her Waynes are here.

Leaving Gotham would not only make her sick and jittery at the imbalance, but it would break her heart.

If, when Signal tells Batman, he reacts poorly, there is so much that Marinette is set up to lose. And that terrifies her.

Some of that thought process must show on her face—or perhaps Nooroo has just picked up on the turmoil in her chest—because the two Kwami are pressed on either side of her face, nuzzling and hugging as much of her as they can reach.

“We’ll make it through this, Marinette,” Tikki says firmly, no room for argument. “Don’t worry so much. Both of you. Everything will turn out just fine, you’ll see.”

***

@bluesimani @how-to-fuction-properly @chocolatecatstheron @mystery-5-5 @nickristus-dreamer @mochegato @thenillabean @animegirlweeb @novaloptr @darkdaysandfakesmiles @optimistically-pessimistic0524 @clumsy-owl-4178 @g-arya @undecisioned @smolplantmum @blackmagicforever @i-wanna-be-a-ninja @wannajointhecrabcult @paintedhope7 @redscarlet95 @roselynfey @ira-sairain @lozzybowe @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @2confused-2doanything @pepelachanel @too0bsessedformyowngood @miraculouspenta @itsmeevie01 @corabeth11 @jalaluvsu

#maribat #daminette #ml x dc #my typewriter #for us to collide

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birdy-bat-writes · 4 years

Text

New Year’s Bet

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Pairing: Tim Drake x Fem! Reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Word vomit and weird writing? But mostly fluff.

Summary: You and Tim have liked each other for a while. It’s Your chance to confess at the New Years Eve party.

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

Sometimes, life overcomplicates things, and when you’re a teenage superhero that fights crime in between your homework, you don’t want any more complication. That’s why you really resented today. You had just come back from a mission with the team. When you got back with the rest of your Alpha teammates, you noticed that Beta had already been here for a while. Typical. Still, it was sweet that you found Tim waiting for you. His hair looked a little more ruffled than when you saw it last, and he looked as tired as you felt but it didn’t stop him from flashing you the smile that could light up your whole world.

“Hi, Boy Wonder.”

“Hey, how’d your end of the mission go?”

“Not bad. No injuries, so that’s good, but I, for one, am exhausted.”

“Same here.”

“How’d your end go?”

“Well, I guess you’ll find out in about 30 seconds because Batman is calling us for a briefing.” You laughed and headed over for the briefing along with your teammates. Seriously, Batsy could not have picked a worse day to send you on a mission that ran for 14 hours. It was peak winter and New Year’s Eve. When you were deployed, you could tell by the looks on your teammates faces that they weren’t too thrilled either and just wanted to be in their beds. You all practically exuded lethargy. Although, as much of a toll as the covert op took on you, the emotional ache of trying to confess to your crush for a week and failing was far more crushing. That’s why you were so exhausted. For the last two weeks, either you or Tim were called away for something before you had the chance to tell him, and now you were back to debating if you should even try. See? Complicated. You were pulled from your thoughts when you saw the crowd around you disperse, indicating that Batman was done talking.

“Briefing over, Nap time!” you exclaimed.

“Nap time? Its 2:30 pm.” Tim huffed a laugh.

“Yes, and that means I have not slept in 27 hours. You and I both know that’s never a good thing.” He smiled and looked like he was about to say something. Presumably sarcastic, before,

“No one’s napping. Y/S/N, Robin, you both said you would help me decorate the party hall today.”, M’gann said. She was right. A few weeks ago, the Justice League members had decided to throw a New Year’s Eve party and invite all the members of the junior team. M’gann was tasked with decorating. You had promised to help, and you weren’t one to break a promise.

“You’re right, I’ll be right there.”

“Great! Robin, you too, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Of course, Tim was going. You were going to be there and there’s no way he’s missing any opportunity to talk to you. Especially since he had been trying to tell you something rather important for over a week now. He was hopelessly in love with you and now he really wanted to tell you. What better place than a party, right? Gosh, he hoped you felt the same way. I mean, Conner and Gar insisted that you did.

The two of you Zeta tubed over to the hall of justice and saw that Bart, Conner, Jaime and Dick were already there. By the looks of it (the looks of Dick covered in confetti and holding a glitter banner with his foot), they were also roped into helping M’gann. Understandable since the room you were standing in was enormous. This was just one of the spare rooms on the top floor of the Hall of Justice. The back of it was a wide balcony overlooking statues of esteemed heroes, and beyond that, the city skyline. The air was icy but still refreshing. You were admiring the sight when the first order was barked, surprisingly, not by M’gann.

“Okay! Tim, Y/N, you guys hang the banner. Seven feet up on the left wall.” Dick ordered. “Bart, Jaime, you two set up the tables. Conner, make sure they don’t eat all the food. Anyone that can fly is left responsible for the disco ball. I don’t trust any of you with the sound system so I will be picking the music.” He looked a little too happy about that last part. He’d better not play 80’s music all night.

***

“It’s going to happen…” Bart whispered under his breath.

“No, you will not eat the-”

“Not that! Look at Robin and Y/S/N. Today’s the legendary day.” He cut Jaime off.

“Oh yeah, you said they get married in the future. Today’s the day they get together?”

“Yeah, and we’re going to see it live. Now I’ll know who actually wins the bet!”

***

You dragged the step ladder over to the wall while Tim came over with the banner and measuring tape. Honestly, you had no clue that Dick was such a stickler for organization. Still, it wasn’t as boring or tiring as you thought it was. Joking around with Tim brought some life into you.

You had climbed up to the four-foot mark and taped the banner edge to the wall. Nice and even, but you didn’t step quite right while getting down and tripped. A fully trained hero of the night like you would have had no trouble landing on their feet, and you didn’t, but you didn’t get to land on your feet because you landed in someone’s arms. Tim Drake’s arms.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concerned.

“Yeah, I am. Thank you.” Your arms clung onto his shoulders and his hands tucked under your knees and waist.

“Are you sure? You didn’t hurt your ankle, did you?”

“I don’t think so. How’d you catch me that fast?”

“Um… my protective override gives me superpowers?” You both laughed at this. His eyes were so genuine and pure. It was only when you felt his chest heave from laughter against your body that you realized he was still holding you, and suddenly, you could feel your heartbeat get faster.

“Hey, guys, is the banner up?” You heard Dick’s voice approaching and scrambled to your feet. Tim rushed to straighten himself.

“Yeah, everything’s great here. All done!” Tim spoke a just fast enough to sound suspicious, but Dick ignored that. He just might win that bet tonight.

“Perfect. You guys can go home and get changed for the party. Everything is pretty much done around here.” With one last smile to Tim, you zeta’d back home with M’gann so she could help you choose your dress, and you skipped the entire time.

***

“He caught you?!” M’gann was your biggest cheerleader and she was like an older sister to you. Tim was your best friend, but she was the one you went to when you needed to talk about feelings and the girl stuff. You know, like how to keep your hair up during a fight.

“Yeah! Does that mean something?”

“Obviously! I’ve seen both of you jump off 20 story building and land on your feet. There was no reason for him to catch you unless he really wanted to be your hero.” You were positively giddy.

“Maybe I should tell him.”

“Maybe? DEFINITELY! And you can do it in this.” She pulled out a simple black tulle dress that hemmed just above the knee. You really liked it. Paired with a pair of silver shoes and some light jewelry, you were ready to go.

***

By the time you made it to the hall of Justice, the room was already filled with people. Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman sat in the corner of the room. You were sure Supes and Wonder Woman were trying to convince Batman to actually leave the corner but were not succeeding. The decorations you had put up were gleaming in the lights that contrasted the fading daylight outside. Then you saw him. Tim was dressed in a black suit with a dark red tie. He stood next to Bart, smiling that smile again and you felt the butterflies come back. You weren’t alone though. When he saw you, the whole world melted away. You looked absolutely beautiful. With the way your hair fell so gracefully over your glowing skin and how your dress fit you so perfectly… It probably wasn’t possible to be more in love with you than he already was but if it were, he would have fallen hard. ‘Butterflies’ was an understatement.

“So, are you going to go talk to her or would you rather just keep staring at her?” Tim’s thoughts were interrupted by a very amused Garfield Logan. “She’s waving at you. Go talk to her.” He urged. Tim started walking and looked back only once to see gar with the biggest smirk on his face.

“Y/N, you look really nice.” He said. You tried to hide your blush, but he saw it.

“Thanks, so do you.” The smile was audible in your voice and the thought of you smiling at him made the corners of his mouth pull up even more. He wanted more than anything to hear your voice, see your smile, to gaze into your gorgeous eyes forever. “They effort we put into decorating this place paid off. I never thought I’d see Batman under a disco ball.”

“Funny, it’s my sixth time seeing that. One time, there was a shark involved.”

“Someday, you have got to tell me that story.”

***

Minutes turned into Hours and you spent most of them in the back of the room with Tim.

“Capes are functional!”

“How?! Edna Mode said-!”

“Yeah, but mine is bullet proof!”

“Tim, your whole suit is bulletproof! There’s no point of a cape!”

“Fine, it gives me flair.” He joked. In the distance, Bart was watching the two of you giggle in each other’s company.

“It’s 11:30, Jaime, we just have to wait half an hour”

“Dude, this is creepy.”

“But necessary.”

M’gann passed the two of with Conner by her side. She waved at the two of you and joined Artemis and Wally. Both couples looked so happily in love. “You know, I think Conner’s planning on proposing.”

“Really? M’gann will be so happy! I can’t wait for the day he does.”

“Do married couples kiss at midnight on New Year’s?”

“I guess so. I mean, the point of it is to kiss the person you want to spend the new year with, right?”

“Right. So, do you think Dick will kiss Barbara or Wally?” You chuckled. “I say Wally.”

“Never tell Dick, but I agree with you.”

“Are you going to kiss anyone at midnight?” The question had you flustered to say the least. You weren’t expecting him of all people to ask you that.

“Well, I-”

“Guys, have you seen the cake they’re bringing out? Its massive! Come see.” He tried to pull the two of you toward the kitchen, but Bart was having none of that. It was too close to time and things weren’t about to get off schedule now. So, he sped over.

“Hey, Gar! What was that about cake? In the kitchen you say? Cool, let’s go now! Y/N, Tim, have a lovely evening.”

“Wai-” And they were gone. You and Tim looked at each other with eyebrows raised. There was a non-verbal exchange of “That was weird, right?” and “Eh, not for them.” Tim went to get two drinks and you made your way to the balcony. The bright lights of the city skyline looked so alluring for no explainable reason. They looked like stars scattered among the buildings and you couldn’t help but think of all the nights you’d spent staring at the stars until the sun came up next to Tim. You really wanted to tell him tonight. It was 11:55 by now, imagine if you had your first kiss on New Year’s. But that won’t happen. Pssht.

“Two glasses of punch, lots of ice.” He handed you a glass.

“Thank you very much.” Tim’s mind was racing silently. He kept thinking if he should or shouldn't confess. With your own mind racing, you broke the silence "I never answered your question...I- No, I don't have anyone I plan to kiss tonight." His face relaxed for a second before a fiery blush crept up "Do you...plan to kiss anyone?"

He responds "I wouldn't say I plan to. Just…" Should I…? Ah, screw it he thought. He's in love with you with you and he wants you to know. "Y/N?"

“Hm?”

“I really like you. A lot, and-" he's interrupted by a shout, It's 11:58 only two minutes ‘till New Years! You were smiling uncontrollably. "Two minutes till midnight, wow. I know you probably don't feel the same, but I just wanted you to know that since the day I met you, I've been so unbelievably happy. You make that way." Someone started a countdown from 60.

You began, "Timmy, I like you too." You placed your hands on his and the countdown reached 35. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the heat of the moment, but you felt particularly bold and said, "Tim, we kiss people on New Year’s because we want to be with them for the new year. You make so happy all the time and I love being around you and-and- " you stammered while the countdown reached 10. "Will you spend the new year with me?"

5, 4,

"I'd love to."

3. You both looked into each other’s eyes, glanced at each other's lips. He placed a hand on your cheek and gently drew you in.

1! His lips were on yours. Happy New Years! The crowd cheered while you moved your arms up to pull Tim closer into the kiss. It was soft and warm and perfect. You both pulled away grinning like idiots. Bart looked over at you two, Crash.

***

Later on, the Justice League is watching from afar how cute you two are. Wonder Woman and Canary were awing while Arrow and Green Lantern were giving you the "Way to go kiddo" head nod.

"I’d better ask Tim who confessed first." Batman said. Superman looked at him questioningly. "I had a bet with Nightwing. My money was on Y/S/N"

Superman just smiled and said, "You're going lose your money, Bruce."

"Were you actually listening in on their conversation?"

"Um..." Batman looked at him with faint surprise and gave a nod of disapproval. "Oh, what can I say I was rooting for them!"

"I'm disappointed in you Clark. Now quick, tell me what they said."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Taglist: @anothertimdrakestan @offendedfishnoises @comicsandhoney @river-bottom-nightmare @catxsnow @cries-in-fangirl-23 @batarella @idkmanicantenglish @sonofrobin16 @l-horizon11

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afewnovelideas · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Magia Record: Puella Magi Madoka Magica Side Story, DCU (Comics), Batman (Comics), Young Justice (Comics), Robin (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Kyubey (PMMM), Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Selina Kyle Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Tim Drake is Robin, Tim Drake is Not Okay, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Alternate Universe - Madoka Magica Fusion, Soul Gems (Madoka Magica), Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Magical Boys, Origin Story, No Beta We Die Like Mami, Don't Have to Know Madoka Magica Canon, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent Series: Part 1 of Eques Magi: Originem - Magicka Knights: Origin Summary:

"The Labyrinths of Gotham City are so tightly concentrated, no human born here can escape the influence of at least one or two Witches, if not more. Despite the aura of despair and the constant work of the Witches' various Familiars, there are still those souls who persist in clinging to hope and will do whatever they can to try and make this city a better place, even though all their efforts will ultimately fail in the end.

"It's the perfect environment to find a new Magicka Knight."

---

"Have you ever seen an albino cat?"

Catwoman, aka Selina Kyle, glanced over at Batman's newest Robin curiously. She hadn't been expecting to cross paths with him, but since it was obvious the Big Bad Bat was out of town and Nightwing hadn't shown up at all in the past week, she decided to keep an eye on the new kid for at least the evening. He certainly wasn't like the previous Robin. This thirteen-year-old boy was quiet and thoughtful, which had been quite a change from the previous brash impulsive kid Batman had been mentoring a little over a year ago before they were murdered by the Joker.

She also noticed that this Robin was glancing over his shoulder at something on the rooftop on the other side of the street. "An albino, huh?" she said as she tried to follow his gaze. However, despite using her binoculars to zoom in on the far rooftop, she couldn't see any sign of any animal, feline, albino, or otherwise. "I've heard of them, but never seen one in person," Selina admitted casually as she put away her binoculars. "They are extremely rare." She smiled at Robin. "Have you seen one around town?"

Robin leaned against his bo staff thoughtfully. "I think so, but I'm not really sure."

"Not sure?"

The boy looked up at Selina earnestly. "Y'know how a cat has two pointed ears about here?" Amusingly to the professional cat burglar, Robin made a vague pair of cat-ear shapes with his hand at the top of his head. She smiled affectionately.

"Yeah. It's kind of a defining cat trait, having pointy ears."

Robin pouted slightly at the teasing tone he caught in Catwoman's voice. Then he continued. "Well... This cat I've been seeing... It looks like they have a second set of ears too."

"A second set?"

He nodded. He made a motion with his hands that seemed to make another vague shape that started at the base of where the cat's ears ought to be and downward along either side of its head. "Yeah. They kinda start out here and go all the way down there."

"Are you sure what you're looking at is an albino 'cat'? That kinda sounds more like a white rabbit to me."

"But it has pointy ears like a cat," Robin argued. "And its got a long fluffy tail, and its legs are like a cat's." The young teenager frowned slightly. "It's really weird looking."

"Well it does sound like a unique creature, whatever it is," Selina said thoughtfully. "Maybe it's some sort of cryptid or mutant? This is Gotham after all." She smiled at Robin. "Tell ya what. If you can catch a photo of the critter, I promise I'll take a good hard look and let you know if it's a cat, a rabbit, or something completely different." Then she gave him an almost stern maternal look. "But be careful. Don't get too close. If it does turn out to be something 'not normal', it could be dangerous."

"Okay."

---

It was two nights later and Tim Drake, fully decked out as Robin for another solo patrol, had just finished trussing up a pair of would-be carjackers. As soon as he placed the anon call to the Gotham PD for pickup, he glanced up to fire his grapple gun and froze.

There, on the rooftop above him, was a familiar white shape with two sets of ears and red eyes. The "cat" was peering down. He could see the animal's long fluffy tail swishing this way and that. Tim's breath caught in his throat. This was the closest he'd ever seen the animal come to him before. Rather than risk his grapple gun startling the animal and scaring it away, the young vigilante quickly indulged in some impromptu parkour up a garbage bin and a chain link fence to reach the metal fire escape attached to the side of the building.

When he pulled himself on the rooftop, Tim was disappointed to find that it appeared to be empty. Not a trace of red eyes or white fur anywhere. He walked across the roof slowly, scanning the area for any sign of the small creature as he pulled out a small portable camera from his utility belt. "Hey there," he whispered softly. "Here kitty, kitty, kitty. I'm not going to hurt you. C'mon out please. I just wanna take a picture."

When no one came out of hiding, Tim tried a different tactic. He reached into another pouch on his belt and pulled out a small package of beef jerky. He shook the bag temptingly before opening it and setting it on the ground before stepping away from it. "Got some food here if you want. All for you."

"Thank you, but no. I'm not hungry."

Tim froze. Then he glanced around himself as quickly as he could before zeroing in on the form of the albino "cat" sitting on top of a large A/C unit just a few yards away from him, its white body practically glowing against the cloudy night sky of Gotham City. This close, Tim could see this was not a normal "cat". It did appear to have two sets of ears, but the two longer rabbit-like ones had golden rings attached to them and were tipped in pink with red spots. Its tail also appeared to be unnaturally long as it swished back and forth casually.

"Did you... just... talk?"

The cat-like creature flicked its smaller pointy ears. "Of course I did!" it said in a childlike voice without moving its mouth at all. Its long white tail finally stopped swishing and settled into a question mark shape behind it. "How else am I supposed to introduce myself?"

---

Tim Drake gave up caffeine for the rest of the week. When the boy returned to the Cave from patrol and declared that he was quitting cold turkey, Alfred asked about it curiously. All the old butler got from the thirteen year old was a confusingly vague answer about talking albino cats with pink ears and clearly not enough sleep with too much stress before marching himself into the showers before he would make his eventual way back to his bedroom.

---

Unfortunately for Tim, giving up his favorite sodas, teas, and coffee did not stop the appearances of the strange cat-like hallucination that had introduced itself as "Kyubey" and seemed hell bent on following him and talking to him both day and night, in and out of uniform.

"You think I'm a figment of your imagination?"

Tim sighed as he reached over the creature sitting in his high school locker in order to grab his workbooks for math and english. "I'm not talking to you here," he whispered as he slammed the locker door in hopes of locking the hallucination behind it.

"It's probably better that you don't, at least not out loud," Kyubey agreed, after reappearing on the top of the locker to look down on Tim. "If people catch you talking to something they can't see, they might think you're losing your mind."

Somehow, Tim managed to choke down the near hysterical giggle that wanted to bubble up at that matter-of-fact remark. Kyubey had made it quite clear that night on the rooftop that no one else could see them except Tim.

"Besides, why waste your breath?" Kyubey said as they trotted along the top of the lockers, keeping pace with Tim as he walked to his next class. "We can speak telepathically just fine."

Tim paused at the end of the lockers and glanced at Kyubey. "Telepathically?" he asked experimentally without voicing the word.

"See! Easy!"

"Oh my god, I AM losing my mind," he thought with a grimace before sighing and stepping into the classroom and tried to ignore Kyubey as best he could for the rest of his school day.

---

"So why are you here?" Tim finally asked Kyubey after tossing down his pencil and finally giving up on trying to concentrate on his homework. "What is my subconscious trying to tell me?"

"I'm not your subconscious, and I'm not a hallucination. I'm a messenger of magic."

Tim raised his eyebrows at Kyubey as he echoed incredulously, "A messenger of magic?"

The cat-like creature made themself comfortable on Tim's bed. "That's right."

The teen noted with a slight measure of concern that he could see the disturbance Kyubey's form made on his pillow and blanket, proving that, at least right now, they had a solid physical state. Still, he was not about to reach out and try to touch the creature. "I'm probably going to regret asking this, but why is a 'messenger of magic' in Gotham City, and why am I the only one who can see and speak with you?"

"I'm on a mission to find people with the potential to become Magicka Knights to fight Witches and save the Universe, and you have that potential."

"Seriously? Magical knights? Actual witches?" Tim shook his head as he scoffed lightly. "This sounds like the plot of some generic magical girl anime."

Kyubey titled their head to one side. "And you and your mentor go out at night in masks to fight criminals who can control plants, have freeze guns, are living clay, and are occasionally half reptiles. How is that more believable than Magicka Knights and Witches?"

Tim snickered awkwardly. "I guess I'm in no position to throw stones in glass houses."

"You really aren't."

---

Finally! Bruce was back from his Justice League mission and he was going to go out on patrol with Tim. Batman and Robin flying through Gotham City for the first time in over two weeks.

At least that was the plan until a call came through from Oracle barely an hour into their patrol.

"A report of potential Joker gas exposure has been put out by the GCPD in Chinatown near the Dragon's Den."

Batman and Robin paused on the roof of St. Peter's Cathedral. Tim felt a weight settle in the pit of his stomach as he took in the tightness of his mentor's jawline. He knew what was coming next.

"Go home, Robin."

"But B--"

"It's the Joker. I need to handle this alone."

"You don't have to. I can stay out of the way and watch your back. Make sure no one gets the drop on you."

Batman shook his head. "Head back to the Cave, Robin."

The leather of Robin's gloves creaked a little as he clenched his hand into a fist and turned away from his mentor. "Fine."

Without even looking, Tim could tell when he was left alone on the cathedral's roof with just the gargoyles for company.

Then, he wasn't alone.

"He doesn't trust you?"

Tim looked up to see Kyubey sitting on the head of a nearby gargoyle. He sighed. "It's not like that," he said telepathically. No need to risk Oracle or Agent A overhearing him talking to Kyubey. Not like the mic would pick up the magical creature's voice anyways. Still, better safe than sorry. "The Joker is really dangerous. He killed the Robin who came before me. B just doesn't want to risk me being anywhere near him."

Suddenly, Tim heard a pinging from his comm link, a sign that Oracle was attempting to signal him. "Yes O?"

"I know B ordered you home, but do you think you could swing by Amusement Mile along the way? I got a report on a Mad Hatter sighting there."

Tim brightened visibly at the prospect. "Sure!" He reached for his grapple gun and loaded a cartridge. "Any idea what he's up to?"

"There have been earlier reports over the last few months of missing girls fitting the Hatter's preferred victim profile. Children with long blond hair under the age of twelve. But since the children are usually street kids or runaways, most attempts to investigate by the police have been half-hearted at best. Those that have tried haven't found anything but dead ends."

"Well, that's going to come to a stop tonight." Tim declared confidently.

"Be careful Robin," Oracle warned. "Focus on recon tonight. Don't engage Hatter unless absolutely necessary."

"Understood!"

---

"What's this?"

At Amusement Mile, Tim was just in time to stop a kidnapping in progress. While the sudden appearance of Robin was enough to send the Mad Hatter scurrying away into the shadows, the young vigilante reluctantly let him go in favor of caring for the victim, a child of eight or nine who appeared to be in a catatonic state.

However, nothing Tim did seemed to be able to wake her up. He was about to notify O to call an ambulance when he noticed a small red mark, like a tattoo, on the girl's neck, right above her pulse point. It was about the size of a quarter and looked like the symbol used in chess to designate the Queen piece.

"Hey O. I found a weird tattoo on the girl. Sending you a pic now." Tim quickly snapped a photo and sent it electronically to Oracle. A moment later, he got a response.

"Are you sure you sent me the right photo?"

"What do you mean?"

"There's no tattoo in the pic. All I see is a bare neck."

Tim opened the monitor of his camera and his eyes went wide. Even on the camera, the girl's neck had no tattoo. He took several more pics to be sure, but despite being able to see the crown icon with his own eyes, they defied being photographed.

"Not sure what's going on, but I can't take a pic of it," he told Oracle. "Maybe it's some sort of weird ink that comes up invisible on cameras?"

"That's not it."

Tim glanced at Kyubey, who was sitting beside the girl. The white creature sniffed at the tattoo. "That's a Witch's Kiss."

He felt his chest tighten a bit at Kyubey's words. Tim carefully masked the sudden nervousness he felt in his voice. "Can you call an ambulance to pick up the girl? I'm going to investigate the area and try to find out where Hatter ran off to."

"Will do. Be careful."

Once the comm was silenced again and after the EMTs came to pick up the rescued child, Robin backed into a secluded alleyway and hid within the shadows before addressing Kyubey telepathically.

"What's a Witch's Kiss?"

"It's a mark used by Witches and familiars to control the minds of their prey."

Tim felt a shiver run down his spine. Still he continued. "Is... the Mad Hatter a Witch?"

Kyubey tilted their head thoughtfully before shaking in the negative. "No. I think he's just a familiar being used to bring humans to a Witch's Labyrinth."

"Why? Why would a Witch want a human child?"

Kyubey sighed. "A Witch is a creature that feeds on misery and sadness," they said very matter-of-factly. "What could be more delicious to a Witch than the grief and fear of a kidnapped child? At least this one seems to prefer the despair of children in particular."

A sudden sensation of dread settled over Tim. "That's.... That's horrible! We can't let this continue!"

"But you can't stop them."

"Why not?" Tim's righteous indignation flared up. "Batman's stopped the Mad Hatter dozens of times. Why can't I?"

"Most likely it's because your mentor has never captured him near his Witch, and never within an actual Labyrinth." Kyubey stared at Tim with their round red eyes, their stoic tone never wavering. "You're just a human being, and so is he under all that armor. Even with all your training, there's no way your frail human bodies can endure the strain of fighting a Witch and their familiars in their own Labyrinth. If you get trapped in a Labyrinth, there's no way out until either the Witch is dead or you are."

Tim watched the retreating lights of the ambulance carrying the nearly kidnapped child away. Then he took a deep breath and released it slowly.

"Can you help me find the Witch's Labyrinth?"

"I can."

---

He was going to die.

Tim leaned against the wall and watched helplessly as his blood flowed freely from beneath and between his fingers to pool on the floor under him despite the pressure he tried to keep on the wound in his stomach. The Witch's familiars, not just the Mad Hatter, but a March Hare and other fictional characters pulled straight from the story Alice in Wonderland, had been too numerous and too merciless for him to fight off alone.

The Witch herself, in the guise of a twisted Queen of Hearts, shrieked for his head through the twists and turns of her Labyrinth.

͙̹̫ͪ̆̏͝ "̶͚̜̪̣̬͇ͭ͑ͅOͩͫ̄͏̬͖̳ Ḟ̖̝̟̜͖̭͑͢ F̡̜̼̰͓͍̟͎͇̆̾̐ ̨͚̫̗ͮ̚ͅ W̐ͧ̑͏͍͎͍̖̤̥ͅI͓͙̤͔̺̦͌̓̌̍͠T̖͍͒͛͢H̡̳̪̭̹̺̒̓̿ ̹̥͉̟͙̝͓̅ͫ͝H̸̝̬̘͕̩͙̤͇̾ͥ͂Į̯͔̦͖̳̣ͥ̌͆̂S͆̑ͪ͏̦̥̭̺̞̳̪͔ ͙̪̯͗̑͞Hͧ͏̤̯̪̩ E̶̯̣̰͌̆ͨͯ A̬̦̻͍͒͝ͅD̖̹͂͒͟ !ͫͯ́͆҉̺̦̩̹̺

̠͓͈͎ͧͨ͡Ō̵̪̻̭̩̯F̣͙̲̖̈́̋͝ F̌̅̾̓͏̭̺̰͉̹̖̯ ̡̮͔͇͚̬͎̝͊̆ͪͅŴ͙̠̽ I̘̬͇̖͑͂̏̂͞ T̨̗̫̜͙̩̖̮͒ H̴̙̝̀ͥͣ̚ ̘̯̮̺̥ͣ̑̄H̻̭͇̮̮͕͗͗ͬ̊͠ͅ Iͮͪ͋͏̬̺̖̝̥̭̘ͅ S̵̝̖̙̿ ̛̬̳̠̪̰̑͗̽ H̸͙̟̱̝̳̰̄͑̃̊ Ě̳͓̝̗͎͟ A̴̤͖̬̖͓͇̖͗̆ͫ́Ḋ̜͚̬̐̋͟!̨͇͚̞̩͚̗̣̿

Ơ͚̹̜̥ͮͥ͑̏F̴̯̤̮͉̰ͫF͈̱͍̌ͩͥ̍̕ͅ ̧͎͕̱͚͍̥͔̐W̩̦̯̹̏͊̏̌̕I͐҉͕̪͔̥̞̭͈̲T̖̝̖̪̑̿̓͢H̤̠͍̣̻̠͚ͧ̍̐̿͢ ̴̲̖̫̫̺ͭH̗̤̒̆͆͡Î̤͓̭̻̝Ș̵͉͔͙̗̝̌̍̍ͬͅ ͎̫͉̞̲͆͡Ḫ̨̪̅ͧ̏E̵̮̲̩̤͓̱̙ͦÁ̻̦̘̜̂ͩ͝D̸̯͖̦͔̲͕̠̜̓̓̆̚!̨͖̓̐̈́ͪ̏ͅ҉̬͉̰̫"̙̺̬̯̹̦͖͛͗͘

Her magic.. too powerful.

His… everything... too weak.

Trapped in this magical Labyrinth that resembled a scene from Wonderland, he couldn't even get a signal out to call for a rescue. He'd tried early on to call Oracle... Nightwing... Agent A... Batman... But the only thing he got for his troubles was static.

Tim felt tears flow down his cheeks as his vision became dark and hazy around the edges and his limbs began to grow numb. He could hear the sounds of his pursuers coming closer, searching for him, and he just didn't have the strength anymore to run. All he could do was hide and wait for the inevitable.

Batman was going to lose another Robin.

Dick was going to lose another little brother.

Jack Drake was going to lose his only son.

He was going to die.

"Oh dear. I was almost too late."

A set of dainty white paws walked into his sight line, contrasting starkly against the pool of crimson blood on the floor. Weakly, Tim lifted his gaze.

"Kyubey?"

The magical creature stepped closer to the fallen teenager and took a seat in front of him. They tilted their head slightly. "I tried to warn you. A normal human isn't able to fight a Witch. Only a Magicka Knight has the power to defend against a Witch's curses and attack them in kind."

"I know," Tim whispered. "I should've listened to you."

Kyubey titled their head to the other side. "It's not too late. You can still listen to me."

Despite the cold feeling in his limbs and the shadows in his vision, Tim did his level best to keep his gaze locked on Kyubey, on the one bright spot in his dying world.

"If you enter a contract with me, you can become a Magicka Knight." Kyubey explained. "You'd be duty bound to fight Witches, but in return I can grant you one wish. Anything in the world your heart desires."

"If I become a Magicka Knight, I'll have to fight this Witch right away, right?"

"I'm afraid so. It's the only way to escape her Labyrinth."

"And there's no guarantee I'll win?"

"I won't lie to you. Turning you into a Magicka Knight is not a promise of victory. But at least you'll have a fighting chance."

Tim closed his eyes and smiled sadly. "Then I want to make a wish that can outlive me, in case I die." When he opened his eyes, tears slipped down his cheeks again. "I wish Bruce Wayne's son, Jason Todd, was alive."

Kyubey's round red eyes seemed to shimmer in the darkness, and the twin gold rings that encircled their longer set of ears started to glow brightly even as Tim's vision finally faded into blackness. As his consciousness slipped away, he heard Kyubey's voice, as if it was very far away.

"As you wish."

---

"Dinner was great, Alfred. Thank you." Tim set down his fork and watched as the kind old butler retrieved his dirty dishes.

"Will you be heading out with Master Bruce this evening?"

Tim got to his feet and placed the cloth napkin that had been on his lap onto the table, though he fidgeted with it a little before finally letting it go. "'Fraid not. B wants me to stay in and 'do my homework'."

Alfred gave him a knowing compassionate look. "I see. Well, if you want to take your dessert upstairs to have while you work on your homework, I'll allow it for tonight. If you need anything else, I'll be in the Cave on comms tonight..

"Thanks Alfred," Tim said with a smile and a quick side-hug. "You're the best!"

Tim made his way upstairs with a small plate of cheesecake topped with strawberries. Once in his bedroom, he closed the door behind him with a sigh.

"Bruce isn't letting you patrol again tonight?"

The teenager glanced over and watched as Kyubey unwound itself from the fluffy white ball it normally curled into while it napped on Tim's pillow. Tim couldn't help the fond smile as his little friend stretched leisurely and indulged in a wide mouthed yawn.

"Nope. He's still got his cape in a twist over Jason's whole empty grave thing." Tim shook his head before making his way to the window seat and making himself comfortable. "I think he just wants to make sure I don't wander off either, but it's still annoying! It's been nearly a month and B still won't let me go on any solo patrols."

"Well, look at the bright side. Now you can get a full night of sleep and wake up early to go Witch hunting before school."

"I suppose."

Tim and his sullen mood weren't alone for long at the window before Kyubey leapt gracefully from the bed to his shoulder. The startled expression on Tim's face lasted only a second before it melted into one of amusement as Kyubey headbutted him affectionately against the cheek. Once they'd managed to wring a chuckle out of the boy, Kyubey hopped down to the window seat where Tim had placed the cheesecake and began sniffing at the selection. Tim watched as his friend picked up the reddest strawberry it could find and popped that into its mouth first, eating it with obvious relish. Then he looked out the window and thought back about the night he became a Magicka Knight, about the moment he set foot back in the cave after defeating his first Witch and claiming his first Grief Seed.

---

"Where have you been?!"

Batman had stormed up to him the moment Robin pulled up on his motorcycle into the Cave. Tim froze the moment he saw his mentor barrelling toward him. "You're back already?"

"The Joker gas was a false alarm," Bruce said as he pushed back his cowl and grabbed Tim by his upper arms, Tim was startled by the frantic way Bruce's eyes were darting over him. "Where were you?! Barbara sent you to investigate a Hatter sighting, then you didn't check in for hours! It's nearly sunrise. Where have you been?!"

Tim swallowed hard. "I... I got lured into a maze trap by Hatter," he admitted quietly. "The place had some weird interference so my comms were scrambled. Hatter got away and it took me forever to find my way out. I'm sorry."

"Are you hurt?"

Tim shook his head. "I'm fine B. Just... tired. It... was a really long night."

After another long moment of Bruce looking over him, the older man finally seemed to relax. He released his hold on Tim's arms and raked his fingers through his cowl-mussed hair. "Please don't go running off like that ever again, Tim. If anything had happened to you--"

"I know," Tim murmured, his eyes focused on the floor even as he wrapped his arms about himself tightly. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Master Bruce?"

Both Bruce and TIm turned to see a shaken Alfred coming toward them with a phone in hand.

"What's wrong?"

"Commissioner Gordon is on the line."

Bruce and Tim shared a confused look. "Why is he calling at this hour?"

Alfred swallowed hard. "He needs 'Bruce Wayne' to come to the precinct as soon as possible. There's been a robbery."

"I don't under--"

"Someone broke into Gotham Cemetery tonight. They stole Master Jason's body."

As Bruce immediately went after Alfred as the old man gave him the phone, Tim stood in the Cave in shock before daring to glance at Kyubey, who had materialized at his heels.

"My wish... It really came true?"

Kyubey curled their tail around Tim's legs in a comforting gesture. "Of course it did. We made a contract."

---

"I wonder where Jason is," Tim mused aloud as he continued to stare out the window. "I thought he would've come straight home. Bruce has looked everywhere. I've looked everywhere..." He looked at Kyubey who had taken a delicate bite of the cheesecake itself. "Do you have any idea where he went after I made my wish?"

Kyubey looked up at Tim, a curious tilt to their head as they stared back at him with their round red eyes. "I was with you in the Labyrinth when the wish was made," they said matter-of-factly.

Tim shrugged. "Yeah. I know... I guess I was just hoping... Well, I hope he's alright, wherever he is."

Quietly, Tim studied the new silver ring encircling the ring finger of his right hand as well as the green alchemical symbol of Mercury that was now on his fingernail. The small emerald gem inlaid within the ring itself shimmered with magic. With a smooth motion, Tim turned his palm up and the ring morphed before his eyes into a brilliant green gem encased in an intricate cage of gold, just like a faberge egg.

His Soul Gem. The source of his power as a Magicka Knight.

For several minutes there was nothing but a comfortable silence as Tim watched the swirling glow of his Soul Gem and Kyubey ate their fill. Once the plate was empty and their paws and muzzle were thoroughly cleaned, Kyubey trotted onto Tim's lap and laid down comfortably. Unconsciously, Tim began to stroke Kyubey's soft whilte fur with his free hand.

"I just hope Jason comes home soon," Tim said as he finally put his Soul Gem away, turning it back into his ring. "That way, he and Bruce can reunite, they can be a family again, and I can step away from being Robin so I can devote myself to being a Magicka Knight instead."

"In the meantime, it's not so bad for you to be both Robin and a Magicka Knight," Kyubey mused. When Tim glanced down at them, they continued. "You have to admit that nearly every night you go out on patrol as Robin, you stumble upon one or two Labyrinths. Even if we can't get to them immediately to flush out the Witch, at least we know where they are for later!"

Tim grinned. "Yeah. I guess there is a silver lining there." Impulsively, he picked up Kyubey and gathered them into a gentle hug. "Thanks for staying with me."

Kyubey nuzzled the underside of Tim's jawline. "Of course I'm staying with you. You're my Magicka Knight. We're in this together." Kyubey flicked their short pointy ears cutely. "Besides, it's not like Bruce or anyone else can separate us. You're the only one here that can see and hear me."

"I'm glad," Tim said. "It's nice to not be alone all the time." He smiled gratefully at Kyubey. "And it makes being grounded by Bruce easier to swallow when I've got you for company."

Then he glanced back out the window at the dark outlines of Gotham City's skyline when the appearance of the Bat-signal lit up the night sky above it. "Still--" he mused. "I really hope Jason shows up soon. I can't wait to meet him."

#au: kcmk #kyubey cursed magicka knights AU #fanfiction #crossover/fusion #pmmm au #dcu au #tim drake #kyubey #batfamily #batfam #batfam fanfic

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catxsnow · 4 years

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VENGEANCE T.D.

Summary: After Jason’s death, Tim was the one person that you could lean on, now more than ever.

Tim x reader and Sister!reader x Jason

Warning: Jason’s death, obviously. swears

A/N: I’m not entirely content with this, might fuck with a part two, who knows.

GIF not mine

Part Two

Word count: 2.6k

Jason Todd didn't hate Tim Drake.

He never hated Tim, he hated Bruce for allowing Tim to be put into the same situation that he was in. Jason never wanted to see another Robin be brutally murdered like he was. He never wanted another opportunity for some innocent kid who was just trying to make good in the world be beaten to death.

Jason did however, hate Bruce for not getting revenge on his behalf. He hated that Bruce never killed the Joker for killing him. That was why he was filled with so much hate towards the Wayne family. He thought he meant enough to Bruce to cross the line for once. Then again, he also thought that you would too.

You were Jason's younger sister, only by just under two years but he acted as if he was your parent half the time. When the two of you got taken in by Bruce, he became even more protective over you - if that was even possible. You were all Jason had for a very long time.

The shit that the two of you had gone through together, the things that you needed to do to survive, well, nothing could break that bond. Nothing besides the Joker.

The Joker took Jason away from you. When Jason found out that your mother was alive, he went on his own. He knew too well that you would want nothing to do with her - the two of you never got along, not that it was very easy to get along with her in the first place.

So, when Jason was on that cold, concrete floor, beaten half to death and blood dripping everywhere, his last thought was that he was glad you never came with him. He was glad that you never had to go through the pain that he did and the death that followed.

You had never felt so much pain in your life. The heartbreak that Jason's death caused you broke you in ways that you didn't think possible. Jason was the only one that was there for you when you needed someone, he was always the person who knew the right things to say, and wouldn't hesitate to get his hands dirty and make someone pay if they dared hurt you.

Jason was the best big brother you could have ever imagined. Losing him, was like losing a piece of yourself. You couldn't take the pain of missing your other half - so, just like Bruce had done, you put every spare moment of time out on the streets. Your mantle of Batgirl was upheld, but your antics more violent.

Bruce saw it, GCPD saw it, even Dick saw it and he barely stepped foot into the manor after his departure and fight with Bruce. However, no one said anything about it. Bruce was just the same, if not worse. His punches became harder, never ending until his victim was barely breathing. So close to crossing the line, but never far enough to not be able to come back.

And then Tim Drake came around.

He somehow figured out Bruce was Batman and that you were Batgirl. He knew that the two of you needed a Robin, someone that would keep you from passing that line for good. So Bruce took him in, he trained Tim and made him the next Robin.

You didn't mind Tim. He was a nice guy - even though you were very rude to him at first. The loss of Jason turned you in to a completely different person. Cold, untrusting, snappy, nothing like you used to be. He knew what had happened and tried his best to make life better for you.

Slowly, you started to warm up to Tim. You saw him less as a replacement to your brother and more of a friend. He didn't want you to think that he replaced Jason, he simply wanted to help to make sure that you and Batman kept your morals that you spent years maintaining.

He was the reason that you never crossed that line. Tim stopped you from killing the Joker. The moment that he popped his out of the twisted shadows he hid within, you were there, beating the ever living hell out of him. All you could see was him beating Jason, an innocent kid. You did this for Jason, to avenge him.

Joker was left in a bloody, beaten, lifeless pulp when you were done with him. Broken ribs, displaced knees, so much blood on his face that he wasn't recognizable. You wanted to kill him, you tried to, but Tim was the one to swoop in the last minute, stopping you from something you would regret for the rest of your life.

You broke down in his arms, crying that your brother was gone and that he was right, killing the Joker wouldn't bring him back. Tim held you as you bawled, promising that he would be there for you, no matter the pain. You just wanted to feel something other than the heartbreak that filled your chest - so Tim changed that.

Instead of grief, he filled you with happiness, love, desire. Upon trying to help you, Tim fell in love with you along the way. He spent hours with you, training to be better, crying on the year death of your brother, anything to distract you from the pain. He was there with you every step of the way.

He was scared to tell you how he felt. Scared that you only saw him as a crutch rather than a lover.

On the night of a Wayne gala, he couldn't hold his tongue any longer. You wore the most gorgeous gown that he had ever seen, or maybe it was just because you were the one in it. So, when the two of you danced, hand in hand and effortless gliding across the ballroom, he ended the dance with a kiss.

You weren't expecting it, but the moment that he had his lips on yours, you completely melted into him. Feelings that you never realized were even there erupted through your whole body, a happiness that you hadn't felt since that day. Tim swept you off your feet, literally.

You were happy with Tim. He brought a smile to your face on the hardest of days. Patrolling became something that you looked forward to again rather than feeling like a chore. You were no longer as violent as you once were, Bruce was slowly feeling the same way. Tim brought a light to both of your lives.

Things finally seemed like they were getting back to a place of normalcy. You could sleep at night without waking up from a nightmare, visit Jason's grave (something that was always too painful to do before Tim), even go into Jason's old room. Things were getting easier, but the pain was still there.

"Batgirl to Robin," you spoke over the comms. It was a pretty normal night on patrol - a few common thugs but nothing major. A new and improved Batgirl suit covered your body - you had finally outgrown the old one.

"Robin."

"How do you feel about a late night sushi date after this?" It was nearing the end of your guys night and you were starting to get hungry. The bright lights of a 24-hour sushi restaurant were catching your attention.

"You always hated sushi."

The voice made you jump. This wasn't Tim's voice, in fact it wasn't even over the comms. It was coming from right behind you. Not very many people could sneak up on you - in fact only Batman was able to and this sure as hell wasn't Batman. A tall man with a red helmet and guns holstered on his hips stood before you.

His voice was distorted and you had no idea who it was or where they had come from. Gotham was filled with all kinds of crazy, but only few were skilled enough to best you.

However, it was what he had known about you that threw you off - hating sushi. It was true, you never liked sushi until you met Tim. He had taken you there on a date one evening and before you could complain about the choice of food, he had given you the best meal of your life. Not only did you like the food now, but eating it always reminded you of him.

You decided that attacking first, asking questions later was your best choice. You didn't know who this guy was but you weren't planning on finding out the hard way. This guy could be wanting to kill you - not that you would be surprised. After upholding the mantle for several years after Barbra, you had a pretty long list of enemies.

This guy, wasn't one of them. Yet.

Whoever he was, he knew how to fight. Every move that you pulled on him, he somehow knew how to block, counter, or predict. He managed to dodge nearly all of your attempts at a batarang hit and those that he wasn't able to dodge, deflected off of his helmet. He was good, maybe better than you.

You landed several good punches on him. Since his helmet seemed to be strong, you aimed for the ribs, the knees, and shoulders. However, it seemed that with every hit you got, he had returned. Pain flared up in your ribs and you were sure that they were cracked, if not broken.

The man's kick had pushed you across the roof and you landed painful against the ground. A loud groan was emitted and all the wind was knocked out of your lungs. This guy was good, there was no way that you could take him on your own.

"Robin I-" you never got to finish you sentence. A loud gunshot rang out with a bullet zooming right by your ear. Ringing filled your head and you flinched away from your earpiece.

"Batgirl? Batgirl! What happened? (Y/N)!" Tim yelled. You didn't dare reach to try and speak to him again. Not when his gun was out and pointed right at you. Instead, you raised your arms in a temporary surrender. This man, he obviously wanted something otherwise he would have shot you already.

"What do you want? Who are you?" He never lowered his gun. You narrowed your eyes at him, "you're not going to kill me, so what the hell do you want. Better make it quick, the Bats is on his way."

"You've gotten better at being Batgirl," He finally spoke again. The modulated voice rang loud and clear in the traffic filled night. "I still beat you though, just like always."

Just like always? What the hell was this guy talking about. You had never met him before in your life. You had fought a lot of people in your line of work but you would have remember someone like him - someone that could put you on your ass in a matter of minutes.

A fear began to well in your chest about what was going to happen to you. A fear that maybe this man would bring you to the same demise as your brother. It had been a long time since you feared death.

"What do you want?" You repeated a final time. With a wince, you pushed yourself off the ground, eye level with the barrel of his gun. Obviously, he didn't trust you enough for you to be standing without a weapon pointed between your eyes. You just hoped that Tim and Bruce would show up fast enough before this guy could do anything to you.

"Your brother would be disappointed in you."

Your breath caught in your throat. How did he know about Jason? How did he know what had happened to him? And mostly importantly, how did he know that you could never bring yourself to kill the joker? This man knew who you were, your real identity - or maybe he was just bluffing.

You didn't give him a reaction, that had to have been what he was looking for. How he knew your brother - and you- and why he was interested in the relationship, left you more confused than anything. You wanted to know how this man was, and more importantly, you wanted to know what he wanted.

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know everything about you," he argued, his voice rising. "You couldn't avenge your brother, you let Batman replace him, what else have you done?"

"He never would have wanted me to cross that line, because he knew I would never be able to come back!" You matched his voice. Your fists clenched at your sides and you suddenly felt furious that this man standing in front of you pretended that he knew who you were and who Jason was.

"He would have wanted you to make sure that no one took the mantle of Robin again, he would have wanted you to make sure that no one would have to share the same death as him but what did you do? You welcomed the replacement right into your bed!" This man seemed to know more about your life than you would have ever thought.

Very few people knew your identity, Tim's, and Bruce's. You made sure that it was kept well under wraps so that cases like this would never have happened. No, this stranger was taunting you in the worst kinds of ways - your brother, and what he meant to you.

You always thought that you had done Jason's memory well - maybe not perfect but he wouldn't have been wanted to be remembered as the perfect son. He was brave, dauntless, he acted real and never caved into the posh society that the two of you were dragged into. Jason was human, and you made sure he was remembered that way.

Your jaw clenched and you swore that you face twitched in anger. Seeing red, you didn't notice that the man had picked up one of your previously thrown batarangs and threw it right into your shoulder. You cried out in pain and before you could retaliate, he was gone. You braced yourself for the pain and pulled out the metal just as Tim arrived on the rooftop with you.

"(Y/N)," Tim sighed in relief. He rushed over to you, pulling you into a tight hug. His hands cupped your face and without thinking, he kissed you. "I was so worried, you didn't answer and I heard the gunshot. I thought you were dead." You shook your head, still fazed by the interaction.

"He knew who I was," You voice trembled. You finally looked over at Tim. He saw the blood drip from your shoulder and pressed his hand into the wound to hopefully slow the bleeding. "He knew who Jason was. Tim, h-he... the things he said, he thought that I would have been a disappointment to him."

"You know that's bull," Tim promised you. You were too much of an emotional mess to even feel the pain coursing through your body. "Jason would be so proud of the person you've become. You've saved so many lives - he would be happy for you. We're going to find this guy, he'll get the justice he deserves."

"No," You shook your head. The anger that he had cast upon you only kept growing in your chest. No one, disrespected your brother's memory, ever. You were going to make sure of that.

"I want him dead."

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wordsfromthesol · 4 years

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Sleep Deprived

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @zphilophobiaz Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary: Tim accidentally falls asleep in the wrong apartment. That apartment happens to be yours, and it happens to be on your first day at your new job. Warnings: Language maybe? Word Count: 1.6k

It was the first day of your new job, your new job at Wayne Enterprises. Unfortunately, this meant you had to actually start waking up early. When the alarm went off at 5:30 in the morning you absolutely dreaded leaving your warm bed, but it was your first day and you were determined to make a good impression. Throwing your legs over the side of the bed, you slowly pushed yourself up and shuffled into the bathroom. Forty-five minutes later you came out and nearly fell to the floor in shock upon noticing a figure in your bed. Stalking closer you noticed they had a mask on…and was that a cape? After staring for a solid minute and a half you finally recognized the emblem, Red Robin, one of the infamous vigilantes of Gotham. You had only been in Gotham a week, was this normal? Shaking the thoughts from your mind you squinted through the dark and made your way to your closet. Selecting an outfit you tip-toed into the living room and got dressed. You had planned to actually make breakfast, but you supposed you had time to stop somewhere. Jotting down a quick note for the hero, you quietly went back into the room and placed it on the nightstand before leaving.

Tim's eyes fluttered before shooting open. His mind went into panic mode, quickly surveying the area and finding a note on the nightstand.

Red Robin,

I think you stumbled into my apartment by accident, but I'm sure keeping Gotham safe takes quite a toll. Since you’re a hero, I'm hoping you won't steal any of my stuff. Feel free to help yourself to any coffee.

Tim made his way to the window. "This isn't even close to my apartment." He mumbled to himself just as his phone rang.

"Dick?"

"Where the hell are you?"

"I…uh…working."

"At an apartment building half a mile from yours?"

"Why do you -- nevermind. I guess I slept here." Tim stopped trying to keep up the façade.

"DO YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND I DON'T KNOW ABOUT?!" Dick's voice went up two octaves as he screamed across the phone line.

"Geez, calm down Dick. No, I don't have a girlfriend. I honestly don't know how I ended up here. I was patrolling late last night --"

Dick cut him off, "When was the last time you slept? Not including this morning." He quickly added the qualifying statement.

"Three days…" Tim mumbled, knowing he was about to get an ear full from his brother.

"You can't keep doing this Tim. You're going to get yourself hurt."

"I know, okay." The statement long and drawn out. "I didn't mean to, I just get hyper fixated…"

"You're taking off tonight. From patrol and case work. And you better figure out how to thank that poor girl."

Tim knew it was pointless arguing with him and relented before hanging up the phone. At least now he could catch up on some WE work these next few days.

You quickly learned from your new coworkers that heroes stumbling into random apartments for a nap was not a normal occurrence in Gotham. You were just lucky…according to them. When you got back the mysterious figure had left. Though it would've been more surprising if he was still there.

When your alarm went off the next morning, you proceeded to the bathroom as usual. Only this time when you were done, your head hesitantly peaked around the corner, half expecting the hero to be in your bed once again. He wasn't. Slightly disheartened, you made your way to the WE building and went straight to research and development, hoping to avoid the morning gossip.

"Oh, Y/N! You're here. Can you run this up to Mr. Drake's office?" Your supervisor asked before you could step through the door.

"You…you mean like…the CEO, Mr. Drake?"

She could hear the wavering in your voice and quickly consoled you, "Don't worry. He's never here. More of a night owl I suppose. Just set it on his desk."

"Okay…" You were still hesitant, but couldn't exactly turn her down on your second day of work. Once you got to his office, his secretary didn't bother looking up. They just waved you along. Just as you set the folder on his desk, you heard the door opening. "Shit." You mumbled, praying that it wasn't the CEO.

"You must be Y/N." The voice was clear and crisp behind you. You spun around to see Timothy Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, standing before you.

"Uh…yeah. You know who I am?"

"Heh, well I do run the company."

"But I just started yesterday. I'm nobody."

"Don't be ridiculous. What did you bring?" Tim motioned towards the folder on his desk beside you.

"A proposal from Sarah. I think it's some new circuit board."

"Well don't try to sell me on it." Tim could hear the lack of enthusiasm in your voice, not that you were trying to hide it.

"Sorry…not my thing I guess." You tried to play off the awkwardness…it did not work.

"You work under her, don't you?" Tim furrowed his brows as he stalked over and grabbed the folder, slowly thumbing through the papers.

"Yeah." You wanted to rant more, but you didn't think it was appropriate. It was your second day, and though the work didn't interest you, Wayne Enterprises did. This was how you could get your foot in the door. How you could make a difference in the world.

"Well, then what is your thing?" Tim was determined to get the answers he wanted. After all, he had to have some way to repay you for letting him crash uninvited at your apartment. And not waking him or telling the world that he was there.

"Honestly…" You hesitated to complain about your brand new job, but something about Tim felt familiar and safe. "I want to develop technology that makes a difference, that helps people. The projects I've seen seem completely money driven, which I understand. But in Gotham we have so much to look out for. Think about a chemical to counterattack Poison Ivy's spell or a ballistics vest you can comfortably wear under anything…" You drifted off into your thoughts until you realized you had been ranting for almost fifteen minutes. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound ungrateful for this --" Tim cut you off.

"No. I think we may have placed you in the wrong division. I want you to meet someone."

"I figured it out." Tim proudly announced as he sauntered into the Batcave, nodding toward Dick sitting at the computer.

"Figured out how to convince me to let you patrol tonight? Because the answer is no." Dick didn't even bother to look up. Mainly because he didn't want to be persuaded otherwise.

"No. You were right, I needed time. But the girl. Y/N."

"Your new girlfriend…" Dick wagged his eyes as he spun around to face his brother.

Tim rolled his eyes and attempted to ignored his older brother's comment. "She's the new WE employee. I'm moving her from our standard R&D department." Dick arched his eyebrows, still unsure where Tim was going with this. "She's going to be working with Lucius."

"And you think that's a good idea?"

"Yes. I fully checked her out and I think her work will benefit us more than it will WE."

"So you going to officially introduce yourself then?"

"Yes," Tim looked suspiciously at the mischievous glare in Dick's eyes before quickly adding, "But not for that reason!"

"Hmm" Dick spun back around towards the computer.

"Don't you dare tell Jason about this!" Tim screamed as he bolted up the stairs.

The next day you stood in awe once more as your new boss, Lucius Fox, was showing you more of the lab. There was technology here that you didn't even think existed. That's when it all clicked, this was tech used by superheroes. Wayne Enterprises supplied tech to the Justice League, Titans, Outsiders…all the superhero groups you could think of had displayed various pieces you now recognized around the lab. Your jaw finally dropped open as you watched Red Robin himself saunter down the hallway.

"Lucius! I heard you had a new protégé." The vigilante eyed you as he came to a stop next to your new boss.

"Red Robin. I didn't know you were stopping by today." You noticed Lucius smirk as he side-eyed the hero.

"Well I…" The remark caught Tim off guard…he didn't really have a particular reason for coming to the lab today. Well other than you. "I had to meet Y/N. I've heard great things so far."

"Right, well I have your suit repaired." Lucius chimed in to relieve some of the awkward tension before quickly disappearing to retrieve it.

Your eyes squinted as you glanced awkwardly around the room, "I've been employed here for like 3 days now…"

"Your…uh…research at school. And your internship at LexCorp…" Of course he had researched you. There's no way you would've gotten into the position without extensive background checks. You awkwardly fiddled with your fingers, hoping Lucius would soon return. You didn't expect Red Robin to try and continue the conversation. "Also thanks for letting me crash the other night. Guess I didn't realize how tired I was."

"So you don't just pick a random apartment to sleep in every night?"

"Well I try not to…I already got berated enough by my brother for that night."

"Good, as you should've." Red Robin looked slightly hurt by your commentary, so you continued. "It's never healthy to let yourself get to that point. What if you had to fight someone?"

"You sound like him…but fair enough. At least it allowed me to work normal hours for once this week."

The gears were turning in your head as everything fell into place, "Tim?" you blurted out before you realized what you had said.

"Ha! Well that didn’t take long." Lucius chuckled as he walked out, costume in hand. Tim's cheeks were already turning a bright crimson.

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sweet-sammy-kisses · 3 years

Text

Get a Little Worn Down in Between

For @summer-of-whump day 5 prompt: broken which gave me a reason to write hurt Tim Drake and protective Jason. Fandoms: Batman Comics/Red Robin Comics Warnings for: Suicidal thoughts, talk of emotional and physical abuse. You can also read it on AO3 Rated Teen(PG-13)

Jason wondered if they even realized that they had broken Tim, the one that gave everything and asked for very little in return who fought and still fought to be usefully in hopes that it would mean that he would be welcomed into the family until they broke him beyond repair.

Given the smug smirk on Damian's face as the little demon stood behind Dick and Bruce as he once away got away with emotionally and verbally abusing Tim while Tim was lectured about how he was older than Damian, he couldn't let Damian get to him, Damian is just a child and Tim should know better.

Jason could see as each barb hit deep and left another scar already over his sacred heart.

"Enough!" Jason snarled as he stomped forward and pushed Tim behind him. He had done his fair share of harm to Tim, he allowed Talia to manipulate him, to twist and turn him into her weapon to get rid of Tim. He still didn't know why she hated Tim so much that she would use him and now her son to get rid of him

He saw Talia in Damian and it scared him. He couldn't deny that Dick had done wonders with the little gremlin but staying quiet while Damian went after Tim with everything he had to push him to the edge needed to stop it wasn't helping Damian it was just enabling him. If no one took Damian aside and explained to him why trying to kill Tim, why attacking him not with just his weapons but also his words were wrong and needed to stop Jason was afraid that one day they would find Tim standing on the edge of a ledge and no words would be enough to pull him back from the edge.

Tim had saved this family, it was time someone saved him.

"Just enough. Stop it. No," Jason held up his hand when both Bruce and Dick looked to speak, "You both have done enough talking now it is time for you to listen and you will listen to me even if I have to tie you to chairs, you will fucking finally listen." Jason snarled out.

"Jason?" Tim's soft voice came from behind him and Jason's heart nearly broke at how soft and hopeful it sounded.

Turning to look over his shoulder Jason flashed Tim a soft smile, "It's going to be okay baby bird." He found himself promising.

Biting his lower lip Tim looked at his Robin, his hero and he felt safe, not like he felt when he was with Kon, Bart, Cassie and Cass but safer than he has felt in the cave for years. "You don't have to do this." The last thing that Tim wanted was to cause strife between Jason and the others just when Jason was slowly starting to return to them.

"I'm doing this Tim because it should have been done long ago."

"What is this drivel? We have more important things to worry about than Drake's feelings. He is just proving how weak he is."

Jason didn't miss the way Tim flinched at Damian's words or how he curled into himself when no one spoke up for him.

"Your mother sure taught you all of her tricks on how to manipulate people. I heard that speech from Talia before when she was doing everything in her power to turn me against Tim. To make me her weapon in getting rid of him. I'm just surprised that Dickie and B are weak-minded enough to fall for that bullshit trick." Jason casually commented. "Physical, emotional and verbal abuse are three tricks of the Al Ghul's and you Damian have mastered them." Jason clapped slowly. "Your mother and grandfather must be so proud of you. You are proving you are Al Ghul through and through."

Damian froze as Dick let out a growl, "That is enough Jason." Dick snarled out.

Cocking an eyebrow Jason looked at Dick like he was a speck of dirt on his boot, "So it is wrong for me to talk to Damian like that but it is okay for him to talk to Tim even worse? And don't give me that bullshit that Tim is older and Damian is just a child because that excuse is shit and you know it. Tim is not an adult yet, he has been forced to grow up fast all of his life. He never had a childhood, the only happiness he had was chasing us all over Gotham. He is not you Dick! He didn't need space, he needed his family supporting him while he was grieving losing so many people that he loved. And what does he get a little brother that tries to kill him and doesn't even get a stern talking to? No, he gets Robin and he gets to keep up the emotional and verbal abuse because the only adults in his life are too much of a bunch of cowards to step up and set boundaries for him!" Jason could feel the rage of the pit starting to bubble up, a soft touch on his arm had him turning to look at Tim who had stepped up beside him.

Tim could see the pit beginning to take over and that was the last thing he wanted, Jason had worked so hard to learn to control it that he didn't want to set him back. "For so long I have wanted a family." Tim started and he found himself licking his lips as he met Dick's gaze, "From the moment you gave me that hug that horrible night I wished that I could be your little brother. Batman and Robin were more than my heroes they were the family I longed for." He moved his gaze to Bruce, "No matter how hard you pushed me, wanting to make me quit and go away I fought all that much harder to find a place here because you were my family. Only no matter how hard I tried it was never enough. I would never be Jason, I was just his replacement, a placeholder until someone else came along. Someone who was wanted."

The smugness returned to Damian while Dick paled as the words began to sink in and Bruce began to see where this was going.

"I will never be Dick. I will never be Jason. I will never be Cass. I will never be Damian. All of them are loved and wanted in this family. I am just Tim, the replacement, the placeholder, the tool of the Batfamily. I love you all, even you Damian. I had been so happy to learn that I was going to have a little brother that I could pass Robin off to." There was a tear trailing down Tim's cheek as his voice broke.

Jason felt his heart break for Tim as Damian's eyes widened as Tim's words finally seemed to sink in.

"I knew I wouldn't be Robin forever and that you would someday be ready for it. I know you hated me, Damian, that you saw me as someone you needed to get rid of to prove your worth here. I don't know if your hatred of me grew because I was the first and only one who drew a line in the sand and told you that we don't kill. In the end, it didn't matter because Bruce or Dick never once backed that rule up. They never thought to set limits for you because you had a tough life. But the thing is Damian you weren't the only one. And I'm not even talking about myself but Jason and Cass, both of who have made amazing progress because someone took the time to sit them down and teach them what is and isn't acceptable. I guess since I am the only one you want gone neither Bruce nor Dick think it is important enough to teach you why words can cut deep and leave scars that sometimes never heal. I guess I just am not worth it to them, after all, I am the unwanted one."

"Tim." Dick took a step forward, his hand reached out to touch Tim, only to stop when Jason shifted so he was once again standing in front of Tim blocking the younger man from view.

"Now is not the time Dick," Jason stated his voice hard.

"It's okay Jason," Tim informed him as he moved out from behind his bulky form, staring at his so-called family Tim decided it was time to announce the decision he had come to weeks ago, "I think it is best for myself if I left Gotham."

Silence filled the cave, not even a bat could be heard.

"Son," Bruce started his eyes wide, he knew that things had been rough but he never expected this.

Tim shook his head, "No, it is too late. If I stay here it won't be long until I am jumping from a ledge."

Dick's legs gave out from him as he collapsed on the floor and out of the corner of his eye he could see Bruce falling back into the chair at the Bat Computer. Even Damian looked affected by Tim's words.

"If it wasn't for Kon and Bart finding me, breaking the no meta rule I wouldn't be standing here today. And that is why I am leaving. I can't take being someone's punching bag and then being blamed for defending myself. I am done being the victim in what is supposed to be my home. So I am moving to San Francisco permanently. Red Robin will no longer be a part of the Bat's so please don't contact me, not that you have. I haven't heard from any of you but Jason and Cass for six months."

"Timmy," Dick's voice cracked as he realized that he was losing his baby brother, again. "Please don't go." Once again he felt helpless as another brother left him behind.

"I can't Dick." Tim's eyes were full of sorrow as he met Dick's pleading gaze. "I can't stay here and wither away until there is nothing left of me. I am barely hanging on as it is. I'm sorry but it is time I put myself first for once. I will miss you, despite everything I still love all of you and still think of you as my family." With nothing left to say Tim turned on his heel and left the cave.

When Tim's footsteps could no longer be heard Jason let out a laugh, "Well Talia's plan worked she wanted to get rid of the light of Batman and she did." Not wanting to be around them any longer Jason turned on his heel and left, he wanted to make sure that no one tried to stop Tim from leaving.

Dick looked shaken as he turned to face Bruce as he begged to know, "Bruce, what do we do now?"

Bruce had no response all he could focus on was how much darker the cave looked now that Tim was gone.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump5 #sherri writes #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne #my fics

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hains-mae · 4 years

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Flowers - Pt. 3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 (end)

(Damian x Reader) Soulmate AU

Rating: T

Ages: Damian and you are 16, everyone’s ages follow after.

Summary: Soulmate AU where the wounds on your soulmate turns into a flower tattoo on your skin, if it heals with no scars the tattoo goes away, if it heals with a scar then the tattoo stays.

It just got worse.

Disclaimer: I do not own DC. If I did, I wouldn’t make it as confusing as it is now.

The convention hall was huge. The lights shone brightly at the many innovative inventions made by the young minds of Gotham City. the entire city was invited to participate after all. As Wayne Enterprise made the whole event international, we had guests from all over the globe looking for potential students to take under their wing. Rumour has it that everyone on the guest list was hand picked by the man, Bruce Wayne, himself.

I looked around in a daze as I clutched the metal briefcase that held my project.

Running in an hour or two of sleep and caffein, I made my way through the growing crowd. Finally I was able to locate my designated table, a small booth in the chemistry section. I made quick work on unpacking the projector and placed it square on a folding table. It would play the presentation of what my project was about and all the necessary details to explain the chemical compounds and a quick scanned blueprint.

“I feel so nervous.” I mumbled to no one in particular.

Then placing a black cloth on the table as my workspace, I made sure to put the specifically designed gun carefully on a stand that I had quickly melded together. The projectiles rested in the container. Only two remained. I stared at it for a while as the scene of that fateful night replayed in my head.

I had found my soulmate.

Which was good.

He was Robin.

Which was bad.

There was a chance he could be Damian Wayne.

Which was worse.

This relationship was doomed from the start. My soulmate was a freaking vigilante! He was running around at night, putting his life in danger. Death was a constant in my mind after that. Knowing that one day I might loose him. It was a weird thing, this soulmate bond that we shared. Somehow meeting him solidified his existence in my life. Now every time I received another flower on my skin I would know what might’ve caused it. Worry started to form in my gut as I thought about the bullet wound in his shoulder.

I shook my head to get any more lingering thoughts out as I willed myself to focus on the task at hand. I needed to get my head in the game.

Pulling the beakers and flasks out as carefully as I could, I placed them each on the other side of the table. I filled them with their chemicals and started the burner. I had wanted to show them the process as a prototype. I doubted anybody here wanted to be encased in rock.

I was so deep in thought as I mindlessly tinkered around to keep my hands busy that I didn’t even realise a figure standing before me until he cleared his throat.

Looking up from my notes my eyes grew wide.

Mr. Bruce Wayne, owner and CEO of the Wayne Enterprises was standing at my table. He had a charming smile plastered on his face.

“My, what an interesting piece we have here. Don’t you agree Damian?” His voice was calm and even.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

“I do, father.” He agreed. His eyes caught mine, and all I could do was stare into his green orbs.

“Oh forgive me.” Mr. Wayne chuckled and held out his hand. “Bruce Wayne.”

I returned the gesture and shook his hand telling him my own name.

“Pleasure to meet you.” He said. “And this is my son, Damian.”

“We met.” He said simply, but still took my hand and shook it.

“I’m really interested in your work.” Mr. Wayne continued. “I’d like to come back after I make the opening speech.”

“Of course.” I plastered on the best smile I could muster.

It wasn’t too long after that when Mr. Wayne came back, but this time he had an entourage. To his right he had his sons, all 4 of them. They were exactly as the magazines showed and described them to be. Each one was dashing. I didn’t know much about them, but hearing their names tossed around every day in school made me involuntarily learn anyway.

Richard, the eldest had a polite smile and kind blue eyes. They were warm in a comforting way and his manners were that of a well bred socialite. He waved at some of the students and nodded at a few of the adults he passed.

The one beside him was Jason, his cold glare could strike fear into anyone’s hearts. Especially when he is backed up with high status and money. No one dared mess with him. But even I had to admit there was a certain charm to his features, he had a bad boy kind of vibe.

Tim was next, walking just a few steps ahead of his older brothers. His nose was buried in an iPad and his fingers were flying through the screen at top speed. He was just a few years older than me, and I’ve actually seen him around the campus before, but I never met him.

Lastly, Damian. He stole a glance at me as they walked towards my table and turned to Tim, mumbling something before looking ahead.

To Mr. Wayne’s left were two well renowned chemists that I personally follow. Their works and research papers were incredible, it was actually the basis of my own invention. Instantly the butterflies in my stomach fluttered around.

After introductions were made, I presented my work and did a sample test before leading their attention to the finished product which were the glowing orbs.

“And what inspired you to create such an invention?” Mr. Wayne inquired.

“I just wanted to help.” I said truthfully. “We’re aware of the crimes around our city, and I thought it would make the job of catching the criminals easier.”

“And it will.” He smiled. “I’d like to offer you an internship in my company. And if you wouldn’t mind, a mentorship with my two top scientists there.”

“It would be an honour!”

This had to be the greatest moment of my life. For the first time that day I felt my mood get better.

The rest of the days passed on in a blur. My invention was one of the top picked topics in the scene, much to my pleasure, and the interview for the internships and mentorships went well. I honestly couldn’t ask for more.

Mr. Wayne’s secretary handed me, and a couple of other students he scouted, a form to fill out and sign. Our parents/legal guardians were immediately informed and the school assured them before any action is taken they will be holding another meeting. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Many of us were able to grab great opportunities, both in and out of the cities.

I looked around and saw all the doors opening up for the next generation in Gotham. Happy smiles and excited chatter filled the room. Promises of a greater future were announced. I realised, this was probably history in the making. This would be where everything turns around for the better. I might sound overly sentimental, and perhaps a tad bit exaggerated, but I was feeling hopeful.

The interviews were over, and after the last of them had been held, the announcement came to remind us of the upcoming gala. We had an entire day to prepare – “Therefore, use it wisely.” Our professor advised.

Many of the girls had rushed out in groups (with a teacher chaperone) as they headed towards the fancy boutiques and malls. I on the other hand decided to be practical. My roommate and a couple of friends that I had made during my stay, required it be essential that I tag along with them. I was peer pressured (and I say that lightly), but it felt good to explore the city without the danger.

“Oh my god I just saw the Wayne brothers!” Someone squealed at the store front that we were in.

“What? No way! Where?” Another piqued.

We heard the teacher sigh and ask us not to make a scene since we were in public. I felt myself tense at the thought of him and his green eyes.

“They’re heading this way!”

I dove behind one of the clothing hangers and hid as best as I could. Good lord, is this some kind of drama series? My new friends sputtered out a greeting as I imagined them walking by, and all I could do was concentrate on not self-combusting.

“Y/n?”

My eyes darted up from the spot on the floor that I was staring at. I didn’t want to come out, but the longer I stayed behind the wall of clothes, the more embarrassed I became. With a defeated sigh, I walked out.

“H-hey.” I waved lamely.

“What were you doing behind the clothes rack?” Damian cocked a brow at me.

“I was looking at it, kinda the reason I came here.” I said, not really meaning to sound defensive but it came out that way anyway, and I already wanted to take it back.

“You’re that girl with the blue marbles.” The eldest said smiling broadly. “Y/n L/n, right?”

I nodded meekly.

Dick smirked and went back to his smoothie.

“The one Damian wouldn’t shut up about?” Jason teased wickedly. I felt my blood rise up to my face.

Damian kicked him behind his knees which only made the man laugh.

“You know better than to tease.” Tim rolled his eyes at his brothers antics. “You’re embarrassing him in front of his crush.”

I just wished the floor would swallow me whole right now.

Tim immediately hid behind Dick and the laughter was nearly uncontrollable from his brothers. Damian was currently fuming, and tomato red in the face.

“I’m going to kill you Drake.” He said through clenched teeth.

Dick groaned. “Cant you guys behave?” He strolled over to me and tapped my shoulder lightly. “You’re embarrassing y/n.”

“Sorry, it was just meant for lil-D over here.” Jason apologised.

“Alright boys, that’s enough.” The teacher called out. “We’ve got a schedule to follow. I’ll have to cut this meeting short.” She was right, and I was so thankful at the moment that we did.

Dick apologised again, and pushed his brothers to move along. As soon as they were out of earshot the girls bombarded me with questions, demanding they know the details. There wasn’t anything to tell, since I’ve only known them as long as the length of this trip, but they didn’t let the subject go. I thanked my lucky stars that the rumours I heard about the boys and their fanatic fangirls did not exist in the group I was in. They had gushed about how lucky I was to catch their eye – I really wish they didn’t – and how amazing it must be for them to hold an interest in me – I honestly could care less. But girls being girls, I had to let them be.

The evening of the gala arrived faster than I anticipated, and true to their promise, the girls had all squeezed themselves into my room.

“You guys really don’t have to do this.” I said, slightly exasperated.

“Nonsense.” They quipped back. “We’re all going to look fabulous and make a great impression.”

They rolled out their brush pouches and stacked their make up on the vanity table. I eyed it all wearily.

Sometimes I had to hand it them, females can be terrifying when they need to be.

“Do you think this will be it?” One of them asked out of the blue. “Is this what is going to turn this city around.”

“I hope so. Thing’s are getting worse around Gotham, if this works, we can secure a safer future.”

“Look at us sounding diplomatic.” We laughed at that.

“I think it’ll work out.” I told them with an air of confidence. I saw the looks everyone had at the gatherings. It wasn’t just hope. There was a sense of motivation. An active decision in every one of them that wanted to strive for more. It was encouraging and empowering.

We all shared a unanimous agreement and continued on preparing.

I wasn’t joking when I said I would be practical. I pulled out one of my mothers old gowns from a battered box that was hidden deep under my suitcase. It was off white, with a few hints of lavender and creamy grey. The dress was long-sleeved, made with loose and flowy material. The collar tapered upwards and into a modest keyhole neckline. On my waist rested a silver strap embezzled with crystals. It’s length reached the floor and the slightest movement swayed in the wind. It made me look like I was floating.

As we made our way to the entrance of the gala, men in black suit tailcoats took our coats and opened the grand doors. I was in shock at the beauty of the room.

The entire ceiling look painted on by Michelangelo, in between hung massive sparkling chandeliers. The windows were from ceiling to floor and draped in expensive red velvet curtains. I gazed in awe at the marbled floor that were polished so well we could see our reflection from it.

Light music hummed tastefully in the air as my friends were whisked off by the boys for a dance.

“Y/n!” A savvy voice called out from across the crowd. Turning around I found the Wayne brothers around a table. I managed a wave.

They waved back and invited me over. How could I refuse? Steeling my nerves, I walked towards them.

“Good evening.” I said politely.

“You look stunning.” Dick complimented. Beside him was a woman with incredibly dazzling red hair, it almost looked like it was on fire. Her bright smile reached up to her green eyes. “This is Kory. Kory Anders. Kory, Y/n.”

She stood up tall and shook my outstretched hand.

“Pleasure.” I said as I introduced myself.

“It is glorious to finally meet you.” She said. “I have heard many things.”

I noted her slight accent and choice of words. She must’ve come from another country.

“All good I hope.” I chuckled nervously.

Her smile only widened. “You need not worry.”

“Would you like to sit with us?” Tim offered.

I looked across the dance hall and saw that my friends were already at their own table. I accepted it and sat down at the last seat which was available, and as fate would have it, it was next to Damian.

When I moved to take my place, his perfume infiltrated my senses, leaving me slightly light headed. I pushed my qualms away not wanting to look rude.

“Hello again.” I spoke to him.

Damian nodded, his expression unreadable.

We made small talk, and discussed about the what I should be expecting when I started working at their fathers’ company. They gave me the basic ropes and tried to ease the pressure away.

Then the topic moved to my invention. I told them how I actually got the idea from my dad, they found it honourable in a way. I felt a sense of pride blossom.

Jokes went around as the food was being served. I quickly learnt Dick had the worst case of pun-overdrive, yet it still had me giggling because of how bad it was. Jason was not any better at his come backs to his brothers play on words. They made quiet the duo. Kory laughed heartily between them. Tim and Damian were taking turns lightly jabbing one another, it was almost endearing. As I looked at them from where I sat I couldn’t help but miss the simpler times my family and I shared.

The melody from the band took a slow turn and I saw Dick stand up.

“May I have this dance?” He offered his hand to Kory and exaggerated a bow.

“I would be delighted.” She giggled and let herself be swept onto the dance floor.

I watched as they danced to a slow waltz. Her hands were on his neck as his was kept firmly on the small of her back. They looked lovely together.

“That’s my cue.” Jason spoke up, his eyes gazing the crowd for what I assume was a possible dance partner.

Tim followed shortly behind, but not without leaving us with a wink and tap on his nose.

Damian cleared his throat, breaking my reverie.

He stood and offered his hand. “Would you like to dance?”

I blinked at him, surprised that he actually asked. I gingerly put my hand on his and nodded.

He expertly sashayed us to the middle and twirled me around before moving us to the rhythm of the music.

“You’re good.” I should’ve known he was a skilled dancer.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” He replied.

His scent was overwhelming, especially being this close to him. I reminded myself that his boy could very well be Robin.

Robin, the vigilante. I sighed inwardly. How could I have forgotten? But if he was then… My hand that was on his shoulder tightened ever so slightly as I remembered the gun shot.

“Is everything okay?” Damian asked, squeezing my hand.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” I lied. The urge to just ask him never felt so powerful until this moment.

It’s not your place to know. I scolded myself for being presumptuous. This could all have been a big misunderstanding on my part, and I could very well upset him if I asked, not to mention embarrass myself. It wasn’t that I wanted to pry, but the bond I shared with my soulmate only seemed to strengthen these past few days. It drew us closer but I couldn’t begin to explain how. You hugged him, you hugged a stranger – that is a mystery in itself, my inner muse stated.

But then the question of the day was; if he was aware of who I was. There was no way he could possibly tell, there was no proof except for the time I cried out in pain when he got shot. Then again, anyone would’ve screamed if they witnessed that.

I settled with the verdict that he most likely doesn’t know.

“I’d like to apologise about yesterday.” Damian said, sounding solemn. “My brothers have been a thorn to my side ever since I could remember.”

I laughed. “It was embarrassing, but I forgive you, and your brothers.” He visibly relaxed. “It felt like I was reliving some old memories.”

“Do you have siblings as well?”

I shook my head. “No, but it would be nice to. Unfortunately right now it’s just me and my mom. It gets a little lonely but we manage.”

Damian let out a quiet ‘oh’ before lapsing into silence again. I didn’t want to kill the mood so I quickly thought of what to say to keep the conversation going.

“So what about you?” I asked. “I mean, anything you’re comfortable sharing of course.”

The boy sighed and looked up to think before answering.

“I like to paint.” He said. My eyes grew wide at that.

“For real?”

He arched a brow in confusion. “Yes. Is something wrong with that?”

I quickly shook my head again. “No, no of course not. I just, well, it’s surprising. That’s all.”

“Tt, not something you expected?” He teased lightly which only made me surprised all the more.

Was he trying to – flirt?

I laughed. “Guilty as charged.”

Damian looked a little proud of himself.

“What do you like to paint?” I asked curiously.

“Mostly portraits.” He answered easily. “And my pets.”

I gave a fake gasp. “The Damian Wayne, painting his pets. I would never have guessed.”

He smirked.

“So, is it a dog?” I asked.

“Yes, there’s a dog.”

“There’s? Meaning there are more?”

He smirked again this time wider.

“A cat.” I guessed.

He nodded. “Yes there’s a cat too. Though I doubt you’d be able to guess the rest of them.”

Laughing again, I shook my head in disbelief. “You are one intriguing person, Damian Wayne.”

“I could say the same about you.” He told me squarely.

The heat on my cheeks creept up. I looked away a little embarrassed.

He opened his mouth to say something to me, but was cut off.

I heard screams.

Damian quickly pushed me to the ground and shielded me as the glass windows shattered. The shards fell ferociously all around us.

“Fuck.” He gritted his teeth and looked down at me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “What was that?” I clutched my head, my ears were ringing from the sound of the blast that shattered the windows. I looked around panicked and scared.

“Don’t know.” He told me gruffly as he pulled us both back up.

Grappling hooks shot up from the broken windows and before I knew it I saw the pointed end of a sword aimed towards Damian’s.

“Damian!”

In that moment I cast aside all the doubts. I still wasn’t sure but if by a long shot; this was Robin, if Damian was Robin, then he could do something about this.

He knew how to fight. Unlike me. If I could give him a head start or a fighting chance, then he and the other superheroes could save everyone.

That’s what I told myself anyway as time stilled and I took the leap.

The blade sliced into my lower back and for a split second all I could feel was searing hot white pain. I cried out as it rippled through my torso. The sword was pulled out just as quick as it was pushed in. I could swear the world was tipping over. The blood had gushed out and I found it staining Damian’s pristine suit.

I could barely hear Damian’s scream as I phased in and out of consciousness. Somehow he had blocked another hit that was aimed at us before kicking the man as far away as possible. He pulled me towards him and muttered something incoherent before dashing across the hall.

The warmth of my own blood pooled over me. Mom would kill me when she saw the stain, if I wouldn’t bleed to death before she finds out that is.

“Shitshitshit, y/n!” He ducked behind a table and grabbed a bunch of napkins, applying pressure as he held it against my stomach. “Stay with me, you’re going to be alright.”

I weakly nodded, feeling sick to my stomach at the smell of iron and sudden blood loss.

“Fuck.” Jason slid next to us as the gunshots started to fire. He noticed me and his features paled. “Oh, shit.”

“Jason, I need to bring her somewhere safe!” Damian said, his voice urgent.

“All citizen, please evacuate the building!” A strong voice bellowed from above us. It was a woman, dressed in purple. Her hair was on fire (literally) as it trailed behind her.

Starfire. But what was she doing in Metropolis…?

The people ran towards the entrance and a man in a tight body suit with a blue winged symbol on his chest directed the crowd flow.

Superboy zoomed in next, his features etched in worry as soon as he saw me. The wound must’ve been worse that I thought.

“What the hell is going on?!” Damian demanded from the superhero. “I thought this place was secured.”

“Kryptonite.” Superbly answered with an ominous tone. “I don’t know what happened but we should get the civilians – uh, you guys, to safety.”

The amendment wasn’t lost on me.

“Y/n, I’m going to find you after all this is over.” Damian promised. “Until then please, hang in there.”

I managed a weak smile and a sad excuse of a chuckle as the blood started to run down the corner of my mouth.

“I still need to guess the rest of your pets.” I joked, hoping to lighten the scene.

His response was a pained smile.

“Take her to Alfred.” He delicately passed me on to Superboy’s arms. “He’ll know what to do.”

Superboy nodded and flew away. The last thing I remembered was Nightwing and Starfire fighting off mechanical robots and ninja assassins. After that, my world went dark.

...

... to be continued ...

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spoilingstephanie · 2 years

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@boyblunderrising

#[ IT'S A BETTER PLACE SINCE YOU CAME ALONG . ( tim drake / red robin ) ]#scrappydooenthusiast

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currentfandomkick · 4 years

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I have no excuse on this, just saw the prompt and wrote. inspired by @virgil-is-a-cutie‘s post where Marinette was from Gotham and moved to Paris, many liberties taken on timeline though, and with @justafanwarrior‘s comment on it

Marinette blinked a few times when her parents told her the first time that her grandfather on Papa’s side died, and they were going to move into his old bakery.

She was twelve.

She was getting ready for Tim (who’s elven and should not be allowed follow Robin without backup). She just finished working on a bit of embroidery for his suit when the Wayne Gala came up.

She didn’t know how to feel other than dread. (new country, language lessons, culture shock, losing her friends, her connections, her room and so much more).

She was quiet, nodded, and got ready for bed on time.

She whispered about it to Tim, who she watches out for. Because he’s small, an idiot with a very nice camera and she has to. Its her job to—she caught him when he almost fell and they were ten and nine. Like Jason caught her once. (She was so much smaller then, barely remembered the place but she slipped and Jason Todd caught her and told her to always watch her step because no one else will do it for her. well, she decided that she would watch hers and other people’s. because someone should, so why not her?)

She hadn’t seen Jason for years though. She knew he’s a Wayne now, but Waynes and Drakes have some weird rivalry thing and the Dupain-Chengs cater for the Drakes. So she hasn’t seen him in their neighborhood, not around her family’s business (or her ‘Uncle’ Oswald’s) or anywhere really.

Instead she saw Tim who she decided a long time ago was hers to watch out for.

She couldn’t take him to Paris though.

Tim didn’t like it any more than her. They both know they can’t stop it.

But Marinette made sure he was better at looking out and watching before she left.

It was a year of renovations to make the bakery and house above ready for them. Marinette was moved in the summer. She hugged Tim tight before she left, on one of their rooftop runs for fun (the memory, their last run ever) rather than BatWatch.

They didn’t know Robin saw them for a moment and was ready to give them a Big Lecture, because why would they? They were just moving to breathe, moving to scream in silence and ignore everything they don’t get to control. They were roof top running to have some control in a situation neither of them had any.

Marinette and Tim dropped down to her house, since it was over… for good.

“No going out there again since I can’t go too.”

Tim nodded, crying against her. She cried tooo. They both hated it.

Marinette moved to Paris the next day, beginning of summer. Beginning of the extra crazy as Gotham summers were always ripe with more rogues and more time and more ‘help’ than the rest of the year.

Marinette missed it. She was in Paris helping her parents do a grand opening. It was a success. Maman was glad they got out of Gotham, murmuring it would be better for Marinette. Marinette disagreed, but didn’t contradict her or Papa who was so much happier in Paris than in Gotham. He missed his home city.

(Marinette missed Uncle Oswald showing up at random to make sure no one was doing anything ‘untoward’ to her or people she said he should help. Paris seemed to have a different breed of ‘untoward’ that were well hidden. No one kept them in check. No Batman here to try, no Uncle Oswald to warn her, and no Jason to remind her to watch out for herself.)

On the first day of school Marinette was thrown into being a superhero. Ladybug—she should have used Ladybird or Coccinelle because it was so American but she panicked and now she’s a very American Named Hero of Paris. She prayed no one made the connection.

When Jason Todd died and made the news in the middle of her first year, she cried. A lot. She was Ladybug and couldn’t afford to be akumatized but her parents knew that even if Jason wasn’t around for her since she was little, that she kept those memories close, kept those pictures and wished him the best. They were grieving too—he was almost their son (they tried so hard to get him to stay, but he didn’t want to. He had a mom to care for and Marinette should have asked Uncle Oswald for help when Catherine looked off to her but she didn’t. She was seven and Jason begged her not to say anything so she didn’t.)

She was doing good as Ladybug. (more like putting out fires than fixing the problems, but she did only have observing Batman and Robin to go off of, and none of what she saw was the detective work.) She took down akumas, was working on becoming a good guardian in the future (the kwami admitted she and Chat were the only candidates… the temporary heroes weren’t even in the running) and becoming a better designer. (She now works for Jagged and Clara on the design itself, they have official seamstresses that build her creations to her standards and specifications. She handles the fittings and adjustments when her schedule allows.)

Then Lila showed up and Marinette didn’t get how they didn’t see through the lies. Marinette will admit her lies in French are just… bad. Thankfully they all write it off as her mistranslating her thoughts and her speaking five languages (English, Italian, Spanish, French and Mandarin) rather than it being an attempt at lying. She’s better in English, okay?

But Lila’s were outrageous, even for their school. Maybe it was Gotham, (Uncle Oswald murmuring how to spot a con and a manipulator a mile away, Jason reminding her to be suspicious of every good and too good deal offered, especially with nothing backing it) but she didn’t put too much into Lila on sight.

Then the Ladybug lying and things escalated.

Chloe caught the Drakes talking to one of the events her parents were catering to. Janet was inspecting Marinette’s latest work while Marinette let the woman analyze her choice before being dismissed with a “You have improved, but do try using that sewing machine for your seams next time.”

Tim had been standing with her and they were allowed to escape the crowd to catch up. Tim was not shocked to find out she’d taken to destroying people in Ultra Mecha Strike III on a city wide scale (she won) while Tim was working on more professional photos and debating taking up a sport to be more well rounded (he’s thinking baseball or track because of the running) and they both skirt around her design success because it could jinx it.

Not long after Chloe makes an effort to get along with Marinette. Marinette made a few things clear: she’s not a lackey and neither is Sabrina, that Chloe needs to stop using her family to get out of everything, and that Chloe needs to apologize for hurting people intentionally.

Unsurprisingly, this didn’t go over well the first time.

Sabrina did get close to Marinette instead (Marinette had no issue with this) and joined the girl gang.

Marinette was still skeptical (daughter of a cop versus anyone from gotham is a recipe for disaster) but so far Sabrina just needed to be given normal friend treatment en masses to calm down her obsessive tendencies. It may have reminded Marinette of Tim and his obessions. Kind of like how Marinette took to Alya (superhero obsessed like Tim, and protective like Jason) so she was quick to get used to her.

Chloe did make amends that year (slowly) and kept doing so.

Chloe and Marinette did agree on one thing: Lila is a scam and they didn’t want the class falling for it. So Marinette made suggestions to keep her friends on track for their interests (actually practice, don’t wait for opportunities) while Chloe took to openly opposing Lila as the one Lila can’t touch.

It kept Marinette safe from her attempted manipulations. Chloe was all for it—as Bustier isn’t able to cow Chloe the way Marinette knows the woman would try on Marinette. And language miscommunications could make her seem more complacent and get her in more trouble for not being as complacent as Bustier wants her to be.

Then came the anniversary. The first one. (and the one where Tim is a Wayne now, thanks to Janet passing and Jack being found negligent.)

Lila made the mistake of talking about Jason. Like he was nothing. Like he was a problem and rude and cruel. And a creep.

“I mean, not to speak ill of the dead but…”

“Then shut your trap.” Marinette stuck to Italian. Alya stiffened as Italian had become Marinette’s ‘I am emotional and need you to understand’ language as far as the class was concerned.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to be insensitive…” Lila said in an almost convincing act. Almost.

“Well you are Rossi,” Chloe glanced at Marinette, as she didn’t know what the connection to Jason was.

“I mean, its not like he was much than a…” Lila shut up as Marinette was stalking forward and this? this was not was Marinette was supposed to do. Throw a fit, make a fool of herself, something like that.

Marinette only saw someone trying to drag Jason through the mud. Everyone moved away when Marinette approached (like Uncle Oswald in a silent rage) and she didn’t quite remember what happened from there.

She did remember ending up at the principle’s office with her parents and Lila’s mom.

Who was finding out a number of lies Lila told and Marinette could feel a Talk coming on for her. (Good.)

But then it moved back to why they were there and Marinette saw red as “She was talking about Jason.”

Her parents stilled as that was (almost) family.

Maman was smiling too wide then as “What were you saying about him?”

Lila squirmed as she repeated words that were Wrong.

“She made it sound like he was nothing.”

Tom was the one that terrified them all then, turning to Miss Rossi. “So you mean to tell me your daughter was insulting a child who was murdered that my family was in the process of adopting before he vanished when his mother died and was taken in by the Waynes.”

Damocles paled as Miss Rossi had made it sound like she was getting back at Marinette for bullying her (something everyone but Bustier had denied vehemently. Especially Chloe and Chloe’s word outranked Lila’s) but with all of this… it seemed more like Lila was the issue.

Lila was trying to process the new information. Marinette was going to kill her was her conclusion.

“Miss Rossi could not have known of that connection,” Damocles said, eyeing the girl with something guarded.

It wasn’t more than a day later the school was introduced the Marinette’s uncle.

“Now, which of you is the one that angered my little birdie?”

Marinette groaned as she didn’t call him. Nor had her parents. (He was watching them then. Great. She thought that stopped when they left Gotham.)

Apparently terrorizing her classmates (and the school’s staff) was enough for him. Lila was now at juvie for truancy (the only charge that stuck) and away from Marinette.

She figured that was it.

It was not…

Six months later…

“Tim Tam?”

Tim grinned at her. “Hey Marebear!”

He was at Dupont, grinning like a loon at her. She said screw decorum and scooped him up and twirled as he is still too tiny.

“Okay, I love that you’re here but why?”

“Heard there was a problem in Paris you neglected to tell me about.” Tim gestured for them to go into the car behind him..

Heroes was her first thought. And Hawkmoth, but its Tim so heroes are his focus.

“I figured we were staying out of old habits.” She was a hero, not stalking them.

“We are.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow as she knew that tone, and it meant he had an idea. She slipped into the car with a wave to her classmates.

“What do you know,” she began with.

“Ladybug purifies and fixes, Chat Noir destroys. Good guys. Anything animal themed is a hero, expect Mayura. Bug themed besides Ladybug, Toss-up. Hawkmoth is who needs to go down.”

Marinette filled in the blanks on powers for public heroes. She shrugged on the blurred possible hero (MultiMouse) and let Tim rattle on and on.

“So I was thinking, why hasn’t anyone looked for outside help?”

Marinette blinked a bit as… “The Mayor was told it was a joke by Green Lantern when they asked for help the Stoneheart Army.”

Tim furrowed his brow. “Which one?”

“There’s more than one?”

“Hair color.”

“Weasely looking, that’s all I remember.”

“That was the ginger who is hated by the JL members, and should not count. Want me to ask Batman?”

“Should I be surprised the Waynes have him on call?”

Tim smiled at her, the one that they used when their parents told them to play and they went roof running and were never caught.

“Never mind. Do you need me to contact Ladybug or Chat Noir?”

“Well, I am talking to Ladybug.”

Marinette knew how to play this off. “And Batman and Brucie are the same person because the butts match.”

“Well, yeah, it would make being his Robin a little harder if they weren’t.”

Marinette took a deep breath before hitting Tim upside the head as “you idiot!”

“Hey, hey! Someone had to!”

“Nightwing!”

“Didn’t want to—not the way he needed!”

“I, urgh! Wait—then Jason—”

Tim softened. “Yeah.”

Marinette hit her head agains the back of the seat. “He told me to always watch out for myself and…”

Tim pressed his shoulder to hers. “I know.”

The rest of the ride was silent.

“How did you…”

“Ladybug, your new haircut and word that speech you made on your debut? A lot like what I found from Jason’s things.”

Marinette may have blushed. A bit. Okay, she had her heroes and hers didn’t wear scaly panties—wait. He did, she just didn’t know that at the time.

“No telling me Chat’s identity.”

“Haven’t figured him out yet, but I would love to see your theories on who hawkmomth could be.”

“Needs the funds to run a butterfly garden, and knowledge to do it in secret, local too, and probably a parent to a Dupont student.”

“That should narrow it down.”

A few weeks later, at fifteen years old, Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated Hawkmoth (with Robin playing intelligence, and refusing to take credit). Chat didn’t want to do the reveal after.

Marinette figured it out when he sneezed at a pigeon.

They met up still, but Chat needed a purpose and Marinette was the guardian. She and Tikki exchanged a look. Marinette called Tim.

“Hey Tim? Remember that group project you mentioned? I don’t think I can help, but I know someone who could use an invite…”

Marinette is sixteen when Red Hood makes a splash in Gotham. Tim was there at the time, so was Adrien.

She didn’t know what happened (they won’t tell) and she won’t press… them at least.

Uncle Oswald answered her questions. New crime lord, and he has a bone to pick with the Bats.

Marinette convinces her parents to let her stay in Gotham. Jagged offered his townhouse for when he’s on tour and she can’t go with (she has so many commissions, so no touring for her).

Chloe and Sabrina manage to convince their parents its okay. (Sabrina’s dad was a particularly difficult sell until Marinette’s Uncle Oswald offered to have them guarded by his men. In person. Marinette is convinced he has a team watching her at this point, and is glad she’s retired as Ladybug. It’d be dangerous if she wasn’t.)

Alya somehow got an internship in Metropolis (Marinette wasn’t glaring at Tim for that, she was disappointed he meddled so much Superman caught on and had his girlfriend offer the girl a spot.)

Nathaniel and Nino couldn’t make it for the summer, but both managed to visit.

Thankfully neither of those visits coincided with her own run-in with Red Hood. To be fair, it was at the old bakery location. Now run by a friend of Papa’s who uses a different set of recipes.

Marinette was there and making some of the old recipes for old time’s sake. One of the baker’s was from Papa’s staff before they left. Most of the new staff were a bit sketchy, but nothing that raised Gotham Red Flags.

She blinked a few times during the encounter as Red Hood burst in (it was still light out… she thought at the time) and paused when he saw her.

“You’re the old owner’s kid?”

She didn’t get what her family had to do until… Uncle Oswald. Great. Human Bait-time.

“Pretty sure the kid left town with her family.” Not a complete lie, but an easy deflection like Jason taught her. She’s not as snarky as him (as he was).

Red Hood, she couldn’t tell what that did for him (stupid Helmet) but he did grab what she was and say “yeah, no way the kid would botch a macron like this.”

She really wanted to deck him for that one. As it was her specialty asshole.

He did leave after that and she may have told Jagged and Oswald she’s going to spend a week or two in NYC with Audrey to keep her mind off of it…

Then Tim had her over with Adrien (who Marinette is now convinced is a Wayne ward in all but name since he lives there now) and Just Their Luck, Red Hood decided to break into the Batcave.

Tim went off to defend it, and Marinette sighed as this is her life and she isn’t a hero anymore. Ladybug would be recognized and easily connected but…

“Trixx, Let’s Pounce!”

A fox hero? Unlikely. One illusion spell later (and Bruce, Tim, Alfred, Adrien suiting up) and Red Hood was knocked out.

Alfred was the one to tell her to stay up stairs as “This isn’t something you need to see Miss.”

She dropped the transformation and put her hands on her hips as “This guy tried to kill Tim who I’ve been keeping from dying since he slipped on a ladder in the middle of winter like an idiot. And is already looking for me.”

The group exchanged a look at that.

“How long?”

“He said I couldn’t be me because my macrons were wrong,” Marinette grumbled, ignoring the real question.

“He did what!” Adrien gawked at her.

“Marinette!” Tim was not happy.

Bruce was looking at her like she was the weird one.

“Oh no, you don’t get to look at me like that. I’m not the one fighting crime in as my fursona and teaching other people to do the same.”

Apparently Red Hood was not actually out cold. How does she know this?

He started laughing.

Bruce was sputtering, Alfred was unreadable, Tim was bring pink and Adrien was nodding along as he was one who started calling Batman and other heroes ‘the furrious furries’ when Batman and Robin were brought up as helping them with Hawkmoth over a year ago.

It was strange to think of it as a year ago.

(a year ago she thought Jason was dead, that Hawkmoth was impossible to find and still crushed on Adrien).

Now Jason is alive, Hawkmoth was defeated ages ago and that crush? Gone with that thing called distance and perspective.

Instead she was staring at the guy who broke into the Batcave and implied he was going to kidnap her two weeks ago, if she was herself, and didn’t because her macrons were ‘wrong’ when he clearly has no taste.

“Hey Pixie.”

Her brain shorted as… “Jason what the fuck.”

Her summer was a weird one. Jason was alive, Uncle Oswald and him were doing business, and since Marinette was in shock still, she went to Uncle Oswald’s unannounced (he tells her when he plans to be busy) so she walked in on Red Hood and him arguing over something and…

“Is this karma for helping Tim when I ten?”

Red Hood took one look at her, then Oswald, and it clicked.

“Pixie, why didn’t you tell me this Thing was your Uncle?”

“Mari dear, please tell me your association with this, this brute.”

“He came back from the dead and didn’t tell me,” Marinette told her Uncle as that she could process.

“Ah. That… explains nothing. Mari dear, we’ll talk about this later, feel free to go to the park until I send someone to fetch you.”

“No, I think Pixie will stay right here and find out what you do.”

Marinette did the logical thing one does when a dead almost-was-your-brother turns into a crime lord and is talking to your ‘Uncle’ who you know has a shady reputation.

Get the hell out of there.

She grabbed her things (she kept them in the suitcases just in case, because Gotham) and joined Uncle Jagged on tour because right now? She needed something a bit less insane. And Jagged qualified.

She would love to tell you she went after Red Hood, or helped Tim and Adrien, she would, but she’s the guardian and that means staying out of on-going wars of many kinds.

It also meant she was able to defend herself when Jason Fucking Todd decided to crash a Wayne Gala that Uncle Jagged and Uncle Oswald were insistent that she attend. Clara and Adrien and Tim joined in. Chloe and Sabrina and Alya combined forces to convince her to attend, while Nino consoled her with pats and good music.

Jason Fucking Todd announcing he’s alive at said Gala, and making a scene before chatting up Bruce and the Wayne Clan (There is new girl named Cass. and she did see a blond with Tim, she thinks its Steph but it could be one of his Titan Friends since she saw Superboy looking like less of a fashion disaster for once with a fast talking ginger that she’s pretty sure is the current Kidflash).

Marinette was so glad she was on the other side of the room, and out of the spotlight.

Jason Fucking Todd catching her the next day when she was getting coffee, was not in her plans.

“So, Pixie Pop, we have some catching up to do.”

And she is not bitter he vanished out of no where. That she thought he was dead when she was a little kid and mourned for months, only to find out he’s a Wayne now. Then not be allowed to see him because of the Wayne-Drake thing. Or that he really died for real and then came back without telling her. Or that he became a crime lord on top of it all and Tim a few scars that line up with what Oswald heard of Robin and Red Hood fights that were brutal.

Nope.

Not.

At.

All.

“We do, but I have an appointment already, and you already know how to contact me, so bye.”

He didn’t, but Tim did. And that meant he had to fix things there.

She’s not sure how to feel about her almost-brother and his attacks on Tim. She’s not sure how to process all of this but she can put some distance, right?

Wrong.

Jason Freaking Todd decided to make up some BS story about having taken time to get better and being grabbed by a goddamn cult and it took him time to escape. (Tim told her it was close to the truth the cult was some group called the League of Assassins… she just. Why. just why?)

Then he decided (re: Alfred Apparently knows Gina, who told Maman and Papa) to get her parents involved in making her talk to him.

How? How does he do this from another continent where he runs his (technical) criminal enterprise?

He just shows up after Tim figured what he was doing and told Alfred.

And now Marinette has to talk to her almost-brother-that-died when she’s elbows deep in a design rut and is far more willing to kick his ass than run (or think about talking to him).

“Pixie pop,” Jason grinned.

Marinette refused to respond on the principle. Her parents were downstairs, and she’s trying to make a nice silloutte but can’t and Fuck Off Jason.

“So, uh, I’m alive.”

“Uh huh.”

“I don’t kill people that don’t deserve it.”

She narrowed her eyes as “Tim.”

Jason scratched the back of his neck. “Okay, I was really messed up for a while.”

Marinette rubbed her forehead. “And.”

“You know of anything called the Lazarus Pitts.”

She did. Also they drive you insane (re: beyond reason) with one use.

“I was recovering from them and mostly have the Pitt Juice out of my system.”

“Bruce?” because he’s batman so what can’t he do at this point?

“A friend of his.”

Cryptic, but she doesn’t want to focus on him.

“So, what have you been up to?”

“Fashion.”

“Oh, what kind?”

Somehow she managed to soften a bit and give real answers. Maybe it was because Jason mentioned debating trying school and vigilantism (apparently he goes after abusers and drug lord and people who target kids and pregnant women and okay, she’ll check with Tim later and all for it being the truth but… she wants this to be real.

At seventeen Marinette meets a ten year old Damian Wayne, who is insistent Tim is not a Wayne.

Marinette is ready to throw hands with a teeny tiny assassin child.

Adrien is too.

Tim says he was just leaving, so Marinette makes the “mature” decision to follow him to San Fransico with Adrien on her heels.

They were not expecting Red Hood to show up a week into their stay (Uncle Oswald was expected to pop in and complain about her not being in Gotham, but Red Hood (not Jason but Red Hood)? Not on the list of visitors.

“So you’re telling me this kid tried to start shit with my Replacement?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow and nodded.

Red Hood told her to give him three weeks to fix it.

Somehow, it worked. And Apparently Nightwing was in the doghouse with some of his former teammates? She wasn’t sure how that worked.

She did know that Tim is sixteen, switched to Red Robin (she helped him design it as he’s bad at it and he wanted to look like he was 30 in his first design. 30. Just. No.) and said he had a thing to do.

Marinette and Adrien shared a look.

“I’ll watch the kwami.”

One list of kwami-care later, and Marinette switched to online classes for the year to keep her not-technically baby brother/her idiot out of trouble. Did she mention ninjas were involved? They were. it was a nightmare and she may have let Red Hood know about the League and he may have shown up to help her keep Tim from getting brainwashed.

Oh, and only at that point did anyone bother to tell her about Bruce being missing-missing not just Off-World or on a real vacation-missing.

Tim explained his hunch (because it is a hunch Timmy, and now we have a semi-solid theory) and she just sighs and calls Adrien to meet her in Gotham.

Fluff won’t tell them where (spell stops it) but confirms Bruce is lost in time. Jason is shocked, Dick and Damian are processing, Alfred is bordering on tears and Tim is victorious.

He also calls up the teen titans for help and they get Bruce—Tim and Adrien’s Father figure, not Batman.

She shakes her head and lets them have their reunion, kwami content at her side.

She goes back to Paris as its home now, and works on rebuilding the order in between nagging Tim about his health (he fears only her and Alfred apparently) and harassing Jason about doing his coursework (apparently she, Maman, Papa and Alfred are all effective there).

She’s able to say her parents were right about Paris being good for her, but she doesn’t think Gotham is bad for her.

hope you enjoyed!

#maribat #my fic #my writing

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timmy-drake · 3 years

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The Robin & The Owl || Self Para

Summary: Red Robin goes back to the body in search for clues - when he finds a riddle. Mentions: @barbaraxxgordons , @ofnygma , @enthusiastofwaffles , @cassiesandsmarkk & @experiment13s Trigger Warnings: Violence, Death

He’d been searching for clues when he found a riddle.

He could have been on that date with Cassie and Conner right about now. It certainly would have been awkward but at least he wouldn’t have been carefully removing a small rolled up slip of paper from the ear of a decaying corpse right now. Placing the tweezers aside, Red Robin unrolled the paper carefully and squinted at words too small for him to read without a magnifying glass. Which luckily could be found amongst the Medical Examiner’s tools. Grabbing it from a drawer, he looked over the slip. On one said it read very clearly: To the Detective ?

Sorry, Riddler. I’m sure you mean Batman but I’ll have to do.

At least that was the assumption he was immediately making. He was shot twice, likely this person was in a manic state of mind and the skill of the shots didn’t exactly look to be the skill of a professional hitman. ...But he was beaten to death by something heavy and thin. A metal cane? Now to top it off, he found a clue on the body. Though he was shocked that no one before him came across this slip of paper. It only took him around 5 minutes to find and Barbara had sharp eyes. She would have seen it. So was it planted only today?

Tim flipped over the paper and glanced at the inside. “I never stop, I control your life, but without me, you wouldn’t go anywhere. What am I?” He whispered. Was he kidding? This riddle was so easy a toddler could solve it. He glanced from the slip towards the wall where the clock hung and reached up on his tiptoes to remove it from the wall. The first thing he noticed was that the clock was broken. It was stuck on the time 3:14. Turning it around, there was another riddle taped on.

“A girl was going down a one way street in the wrong direction. Why didn't she break the law?” Easy. She was walking. But street’s font looked like it was bolded. So... 314. Street. Walking... 31st street was in walking distance of the precinct. 4 could be a house number. This was so easy that it felt like a trap.

He better tell someone about this, just in case. Not that he couldn’t handle the Riddler of all people. Taking out his communicator, he paged Oracle. “Oracle, come in.” Radio Silence. Did he have time to spend on this? On calling her until she picked up? The first riddle was beginning to worry him. It could be a double meaning. A vailed threat. Maybe he had a limited amount of time to get there.

“Oracle?” More silence. He placed the clock back on the wall and climbed up into the vent he came in through. Once he was outside again, Red Robin hurried down the street to the street that was implied in the riddle. Like he thought. 4 was a house number and the house it belonged to was for sale. So it might not have any occupants. He had to be careful about how he entered. If this was a trap then the door might set off something. It was too obvious. So: he used his grabbling hook to get to the roof and shattered the glass of a window. Slipping in quietly. The place was a bit of a dump from what he could see but a lot of places in Gotham were. Climbing down the stairs as Tim carefully searched the house, he turned the corner and noticed a singular light on. Illuminating a threatening message currently being spray painted onto the wall by a woman with short black hair. Echo.

The message read in green: What was yours but now is mine? This didn’t read like a normal riddle. Instead, it read like a threat. If this was meant for Batman- wait. Taking out the slip of paper found in the man’s ear he looked at the tiny word. Detective. In the first note. The ink of the word your was lighter than the rest of the words and the ink of the word girl in the previous riddle shared the same fate. He thought it was a printing error but it was actually the answer to this riddle.

A shiver ran up his spine as he realized detective didn’t mean Bruce. Detective meant Jim.

“Where is she?” Tim demanded as the Echo shot up with surprise. He was early. This little trap was meant for Commissioner Gordon who probably had yet to look in the M.E. Room. His fist clenched as he began to approach Echo. Her eyes widening with fear... but they were shifted to the side of him slightly. She wasn’t looking at him. She was looking behind him. In the same moment as he turned his head. A dart whizzed by him and hit Echo in the neck. She went down with a thud. Someone took her out before he had a chance to interrogate her.

His blood ran cold as he turned to face the person who took out the Riddler’s henchman. Standing a lot taller than him was a dark figure. The light illuminating the sharp blades running along his chest in their holders and reflecting in the goggles on his face. A sharp and tiny beak in-between them. It almost looked like the face of an Owl.

He knew who this was the moment he saw him and in that same moment- he knew that he might die tonight. The Talon was a highly trained assassin for the Court of Owls and as trained as Red Robin was. Tim was well aware of his own limitations. He wasn’t as talented as a fighter. He wasn’t going to win this fight. Especially since his leg was injured from his earlier patrol with Orphan. He was going to try and stay alive during it until he figured out a way to get himself out of there. After all; what really mattered was that Oracle was in danger and he was the only one who knew who had her. That was information he needed to get back to the Batfam.

Tim sunk down into a fighting stance and watched as the Talon ran towards him. Leaping up and using the man’s shoulders to flip over him and land behind him. This leg faltering a bit from the landing. Talon whipped a round and with two daggers in hand attempted to go for his face. He dodged one blade while the other left a small nick on his cheek.

Moving swiftly, Tim kicked out his injured leg while the other held his weight. Hard and fast into Talon’s gut. Sending him stumbling back some while Red Robin took that moment to very quickly get out his communicator from his utility belt. He had to get a hold of the other bats and tell them what was going on. Maybe then he could get both Barbara and himself out of the deep water. Talon was too fast though, he recovered like it was nothing and kicked him back. Sending him flying into the wall. The wet spray paint marking up his outfit. Out of breath, he still attempted to call for Stephanie over the coms. “Spoiler-” He got out but Talon was right back in front of him, gripping him and holding him against the wall. The communicator falling out of his hands and landing on the floor where Talon crushed it with his foot. I hate to say it, Drake. But you’re not doing so great. He thought to himself. Eyes darting around for something he could use and landing on the green spray paint can on the floor than up at the chandelier.

His new plan was simple. Get out of this hold. Blind him to get the advantage and try to trap him under that giant chandelier just long enough to hightail it out of here. Titans Tower was the closest he could get for a little backup so that was where he’d be heading. While he was thinking (and struggling in Talon’s grip), the assassin had managed to take a hand off him to grab one of his blades. Stabbing it into his upper leg as they struggled against the wall. Letting out a sudden gasp from the pain, he felt Talon rip it out and move to stab him again. Tim moved his head back before slamming it against the other’s head. Quickly pushing against him. The assassin fell back and tripped over Echo’s body to land on the floor. Quickly, Tim leaned down and snatched the spray paint. Spraying it over the goggles with one hand while he tossed a birdarang upwards towards to free the chandelier from the chain holding it up. Just barely getting out of the way as he fell on top of Echo and Talon.

Not the slickest move ever but right now all that mattered was escaping. Ignoring the pain in his leg he ran towards the window to escape the house and get back to Titans Tower. If he didn’t bleed out before he got there.

#self para

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sixtyeightdays · 4 years

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Paperwork

i dont think ive seen this idea before but if youve written one like this lmk ☆

background info; mari and adriens identities are revealed to each other already, and this is a bio!dad bruce au, marinette is damians twin sister

Paperwork was one thing almost everybody dreaded. More so for the employees of Wayne Enterprises.

Everybody knew that Gotham had villains. Or rogues, as they call themselves.

Unfortunately for the employees, the rogues attacked WE almost every other week, which resulted in the employees having to redo paperwork after situations with maybe the Joker, whether he shot through the paper or stepped on it, or questions with Riddler who throws everything anywhere.

Really, it was a miracle everyone managed to hand in documents punctually, what with them having to ask for extensions or just staying up late to finish it on time.

It was practically a regular occurrence in Gotham. As some people say, you aren't a Gothamite if you haven't been attacked.

So when Scarecrow came to Wayne Enterprises, brandishing a new tranquiliser gun filled with new fear toxin, the workers sighed and did their best to keep all their papers, shoving as many as they could in drawers.

A worker inwardly groaned as one of Scarecrow's goons flipped their table and stepped on a document. That was another 2 hours in the office.

There was a loud cackle that everyone turned to look at.

The French class who came for a tour didn't look scared in the slightest, sitting next to Scarecrow and some goons. Some looked bored, even.

Scarecrow laughed maniacally as he pointed at a blue-haired girl, placing her in a headlock before pointing the tip of the tranq gun at her neck.

To her credit, she didn't look remotely bothered and continued to stare at the blonde boy nearby and blinked.

'For every 5 minutes it takes for the Batboys to come, I'll shoot one pf these pretty French tourists here!'

The girl blinked again, looking to her class this time.

The blonde gave the slighest nod -- almost inperceptible.

'Now, let's--'

He didn't get to finish as the girl blinked again, and the class burst into action.

The girl Scarecrow was holding got kneed in the family jewels and she lifted her leg and kicked him in the face before slipping out of his grip and punched him.

A rather buff boy and multicolored haired girl took down two goons simultaneously, punching them in the face and tackling them.

A pink haired girl stepped on a goon's foot and a boy in a red hoodie elbowed him in the stomach. The boy then sat on the goon's back, shaking his feet leisurely while the pink haired girl swung her fist.

A goon caught her fist, but she smirked and flipped him over her shoulder like it was nothing.

The boy whooped and cheered her on.

A purple haired goth girl and a blonde girl in a pink sundress were backed into a corner before the girl in pink took a --was that a bottle of perfume?-- out if her pocket, spritzing it in the eyes if the incoming goons.

The purple haired girl snarled and swung her foot out, successfully causing the goons around them to fall, then they, too, sat on them and started gossiping.

The other students formed a small circle, with their backs to each other, punching and kicking when necessary while a brunette in glasses cheered everyone on, holding up her phone, recording.

No one noticed a bluenette and blonde slink away.

A minute later, a pigtailed girl clad in red spandex burst in, swinging something in her arm while a blonde in black leather entered, a silver baton in his hands.

'Aw, Bugaboo, did you miss me?'

'Just a little, kitten.'

Their playful banter led to more cheering from the French tourists, especially after the red hero called out that they saw the Ladyblog's livestream and came to help their favorite Parisians.

The French class called them Ladybug and Chat Noir. It wasn't hard to tell who was which superhero.

Ladybug called something about a lucky charm and pulled something from thin air.

It was a black and red paperweight.

Ladybug looked to Chat Noir, who smirked and bashed a goon's face in with the end of his baton.

She grinned, reared her arm back and threw the paperweight.

It hit Scarecrow, who went down again since he was struggling to get up from when the bluenette kicked him in the area where the sun didn't shine.

He groaned as he hit the floor.

By now, everyone was either sitting on a goon, unconscious goons on the floor and a barely conscious Scarecrow on the ground.

The WE employees mentally groaned at the thought of having to redo all the paperwork.

Just then, the Batfam barged into the room, clearly preparing for a fight, Red Hood holding a clear flask of serum, maybe, for the fear toxin.

They stopped short when they realised the situation was already taken care of.

Robin coughed and looked around awkwardly at Ladybug yelling at the masked villain.

'I thought Joker's fashion sense was bad but NO! You came in wearing a SACK over your head!'

Nightwing ran towards Ladybug and hugged her, accidentally kicking Scarecrow's head in the process, effectively knocking him out.

'Bug!'

The French tourists and Chat looked shocked. How did Ladybug know the Gotham vigilantes?

Batman strode forward and handcuffed Scarecrow and the goons, before reaching Ladybug.

Red Robin, however, stood there laughing, clutching his stomach.

'That's what you get for messing with our sister!'

Sister?!

Red Robin seemed to realised what he said as soon as he said it.

The reporter girl gasped.

'Batman, is Ladybug, one of the heroes of Paris, your daughter?'

Batman coughed awkwardly. 'Yes?'

Chat looked to Ladybug and grinned, slightly awestruck, and muttered something along the lines of 'crossover team up!'.

They were interrupted by a loud beeping from Ladybug's earrings and she looked glad to leave her brothers. She hugged the vigilantes -- her brothers and father -- and Chat goodbye before she picked up the fallen paperweight, tossing it up in the air and yelling something.

A swarm of Ladybugs surrounded the building and to the employees' shock and relief, the paperwork looked fine, torn pieces becoming whole again, not a smudge out of place.

She swung her -- was that a yoyo? -- upwards and vaulted out of sight, calling 'Bug Out!'. Chat looked in the direction where she left and opened his mouth, but before he could speak a katana was held at his throat.

'Don't you dare mess with our sister. If for any reason she deems you suitable to court, you are to treat her with kindness and respect. You will not force her into anything she doesn't want to do.' Robin threatened, applying pressure on the katana slightly, enough to cause pain, but not enough to draw blood.

Chat looked like he was going to nod before thinking better of it and squeaking out an okay.

He gave a two fingered salute before using his baton to leave, vaulting onto the rooftop and running.

No one noticed the bluenette and blonde join back the party.

An employee approached Alya.

'Please thank Ladybug for us, she saved us so much trouble of having to redo a whole stack of paperwork!' He clasped Alya's hand and shook it.

'Oh! Okay, yeah sure, no problem!' The employee gave her a smile and went back to his desk.

Everyone soon filtered out and went back to their desks, starting to continue their unfinished paperwork and placing the completed ones in a safe drawer.

The Bats left soon after making sure everyone was okay and the French class continued to walk around and gaped at the rooms ahead.

When Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake entered the room again, each holding a cup of coffee, no one noticed the discrete wink they sent to a certain bluenette, nor did anyone notice the small smile she gave in return.

yes in case u havent noticed im bad at writing endings but yeah i hope you liked this small oneshot ♡

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jasontoddiefor · 5 years

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Batfam Fanfic Rec Sunday!

I’ve decided to do something worthwhile with my 1400+ Batfam bookmarks, therefore I welcome you to my first Fanfic Rec Sunday. Every Sunday I guess I’ll recommend fanfictions for a specific theme, AU, trope, etc.

Feel free to request specific themes or AUs and I’ll do my best to search for fitting fanfiction!

(”Oh, I’ve always wanted to read something like a Brooklyn 99 crossover!” ”I’ve got your back, young reader.”)

This week’s theme is Time Travel & Batman Beyond!

And I’ve got 28 amazing fanfics for you below the read more!

Have fun and don’t forget to leave these lovely writers a comment!

Title: A Gift to Cherish Summary: The wonderful thing about being hurdled through time and space is that Jason doesn’t have to deal with the fallout of not listening to Bruce. The awful, terrible, no good very bad part of hurtling through time and space is that he has no idea where he is. It’s all up to wormhole he was thrown into to decide where he gets spit out to. In which Jason is thrown into a future he never came back to, and gets to heal, just a little bit. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20226775

Title: A Good Place 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. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13515501

Title: A hundred miles through the desert Summary: Finding himself nearly three decades into the past hadn't been part of Jason's plans for the day, but he could manage. Having no idea how he got there, no clear path home and a recently orphaned Bruce Wayne determined to drag Jason into his search for his parents' killer - that might be a little more complicated. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18197330

Title: And They’re Only Getting Better Summary: 90's!Tim Drake wakes up in his Red Robin body. Exhausted from a YJ mission, he chooses to focus on getting through a normal day so as not to disrupt things for his future self. But, y'know, his way. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10522401

Title: A Time to Reflect Summary: Bruce finds himself stuck in the past, and while waiting for the league to pick him up, struggles to get along with his past self. Plus being in a practically empty manor is a bigger adjustment than he'd like to admit. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20156707

Title: Back to the Past Summary: Bruce is Robin, his dad isn't Batman though, despite how similar the outfits are. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17237258

Title: Careful what you wish for Summary: Sometimes, Batman can’t help but miss the time when Dick was the one and only Robin. In a world with magical imps, he should have known better. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15009647

Title: Choose - Lose Summary: Tim looked to the empty space where the time traveler had stood, a forgettable man with a forgettable face in a forgettable shabby brown suit, and had made his unforgettable offer. You can save him. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320876

Title: Cocoa in April Summary: There are strict rules when it comes to time-traveling. But when Dick is faced with an adorable young Bruce when he's accidentally sent back to 1988, he can't resist a conversation. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16888914

Title: death sucks (and then you live) Summary: Red Hood is starting to put some serious plans in motion when he's attacked by a not-so-welcome blast from the past. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15532380

Title: Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep Summary: I am not here I do not sleep. Terry wants to say he's okay with cemeteries. But taking your kinda boss, kinda mentor, kinda surrogate father-figure to his creepy family cemetery does not make him feel good. He didn't realize just how much Bruce mourns. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19378990

Title: In my arms Summary: There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could change. Those were the rules of the past. Besides, babies cried all the time, even if this was less a cry and more of an angry wail from a little one pushed past its limits. But still. He should have been on his way. He likely would have been, had this been a different home. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20728655

Title: Innocence and experience Summary: What starts as a normal patrol ends up shaking up the world of Young Justice when a boy claiming to be a future Robin drops from the sky while chasing after a man in white. The Team struggles to deal with Damian and the future he represents all the while trying to return him to his rightful time. But for what purpose is this new villain in the past and can Damian and the Team stop him? Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9224534

Title: I Used to Be an Adventurer Like You, Then I Took an Arrow to the Knee Summary: Stephanie was just on patrol and now she’s stuck somewhere, sometime, with Bruce. They bleed and bond and mostly try to keep each other alive— you know, just a Tuesday. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16437716

Title: life, if well lived 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. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18378512

Title: Lost and Found Summary: Bruce is dying. Slowly, painfully. Not going out in a blaze of glory and defiance for a greater purpose. He's caving under the weight of his own age, under the damage he's done to his heart through the years. Terry can't be by his side constantly to do damage control. More than that, he can't watch it happen with no reprieve. But there's no one else. Terry needs help keeping vigil by an ill Bruce's bedside. But the old man had kids once, didn't he? Are the bridges he burned unable to be rebuilt? As he observes, Terry definitely starts to wonder how this family used to be. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12214692

Title: meet the robins Summary: sad little orphan bruce travels to the future and meets the family he’ll have one day :) too bad he can’t stay forever :( Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2685095

Title: Mint Chocolate Chip Summary: Summer vacations have been going on just long enough for Jason to start getting bored, when he gets an unexpected visitor. From the future. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18860545

Title: no one seems to go Summary: “Father,” Bruce mumbles, “I am something of an outlaw.” “Were you always this dramatic, son?” Thomas asks, the bed beneath them shaking as he shifts. “Alfred.” Bruce snorts, shaking his head. “Theatrics are his speciality, remember?” Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15663957

Title: Of your own making Summary: Jason died. Then he came back, forty years too late. It takes time to adjust. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20211523

Title: One Big Batty Family Summary: In which Billy Batson and the McGinnis siblings join the present day Batfam. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1133567

Title: Oops I did it again Summary: "You're insane." Or possibly an insane dream from eating chili dogs before bed. Which one Jason wasn't sure since he had yet to pinch himself. "I'm a member of the longer existing Dead Robins Club that doesn't even give you a lousy shirt. Not shocking Jay." Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/936921

Title: Raisin Delight Summary: A year after Jason Todd dies, Tim Drake and Bruce Wayne take on the case when they notice strange occurrences in Gotham city. This has disastrous consequences, but so do most things that Tim gets caught up in, so what's new, really. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15644082

Title: Realization Summary: Bruce makes a discovery while conducting a check-up on Terry. Takes place midway through the "Splicers" episode. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377468

Title: Strange Manor Summary: Bruce let his eyes close to wallow for a moment in worry and fear for Jason. One second, two, three. He opened his eyes. Time to act. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474308

Title: The Incandescent Rose Summary: Terry McGinnis (the new Batman) impulsively asks marriage proposal advice from his mentor and grumpy father figure Bruce Wayne. When the older man describes a proposal in which he had been yelled at and abandoned, Terry can't help investigate the matter by seeing some of Bruce's most knowledgeable friends and family members. This search prompts someone else into action. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19414228

Title: The Time Travel Problem Summary: Barry Allen and Clark Kent, follow Bruce around during a time travel mission through Gotham City's recent past. If only Bruce would stay focused. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21143081

Title: Younger Bruce, Older Jason Summary: Jason wakes up in the dead of night to an unexpected visitor. (Like you’ve never heard that one before...) Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14867975

#dc #dc comics #batman #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #terry mcginnis #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Stephanie Brown #batfamrecs

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meterokinesis · 4 years

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No Grave Can Hold My Body Down

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 12,032

Fandom: Batfamily, DC Comics

Characters: Tim Drake, Ra’s al Ghul, Tam Fox, OFC, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Fasir Nasser

Pairings: Tim Drake & Ra’s al Ghul, Tim Drake & Tam Fox

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Chose not to use archive warnings

Tags: Canon divergence, Lazarus Pit, Lazarus Pit Madness, Evil!Tim Drake, Blood and Gore, Psychological Trauma, Survivor’s guilt, Unreliable narrator, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Post-Battle of the Cowl, Bruce is dead, Tim is not having a good time right now

Summary: When Tim Drake leaves to find Bruce, he doesn’t expect to get stabbed. He doesn’t expect to die. And he certainly doesn’t expect to be resurrected. However, the Tim who goes into the Lazarus Pit is not the same Tim who comes out. This Tim is ruthless and unguarded in a way he never was before. And when Ra's starts to take him under his wing... well, what's a disgraced Robin to do?

Author’s Note: This work is part of the Batfam Big Bang! (@batfam-big-bang) I couldn't have done this without my lovely betas, @bisexualoftheblade, @crystalinastar, and @houser-of-stories. There's also some amazing art for this fic that I’ll be posting soon!

Read it on AO3

The desert night was cool, with a breeze that shifted the sand beneath Tim’s feet like waves. The stars gleamed overhead, and for a second he was caught up in how clear the sky was. It had been years since he’d seen stars without a haze of light pollution around them.

Owens and Z were in front of him, his babysitters for the night. Pru was off to his left, fiddling with the safety on her gun. The ride here had been as light-hearted as was possible, given the circumstances, but that jovial tone had ended quickly. Their off-roader had died on them maybe half an hour before, and the small group was still huddled around the machine, waiting as Z checked the engine. Every few seconds, Pru glared at Tim, as if blaming him for the hold up. Though the others had made it very clear that this was a fool’s errand, Tim knew that Bruce was here, somewhere. He had to be, or Tim had thrown everything away for nothing.

That was the issue, wasn’t it? Tim might be the world’s greatest detective, now that Bruce was… out of commission. But his hunches could still be wrong. What if- no. He couldn’t afford to think like that. He would bring Bruce back, he had to.

“Hey, Drake, are you done brooding yet?” Pru’s voice echoed over the empty land. Tim huffed noncommittally and looked up to see the bald assassin twirling her gun on her finger.

“I’m a Bat. We’re never done brooding,” he quipped, before fiddling with the little radio receiver he had brought along. It didn’t do more than give off static when it was on, but having something to do with his hands helped.

Rolling her eyes, Pru gestured over to a precariously balanced pile of rocks. “Wanna see if I can hit the top one off without knocking over the others?”

Tim sighed heavily and dragged himself over to her, Owens trailing behind. Out of the corner of his eye, he even saw Z peek out from behind the hood to watch.

Squaring off, Pru brought up her gun and fired off a shot. To no one’s surprise, the top rock went flying and the others remained still, albeit with a slight wobble.

“Fuck yeah! Z, did you see…” She trailed off, her face blanching. Tim followed suit, only to be greeted with Z on the ground, chest bleeding in a way his medical training told him was too much. His brown eyes were already glassy, and his chest wasn’t moving anymore. It was then that the rest of the image came into focus, and Tim’s eyes finally latched onto the cloaked man holding two bloody swords.

“I am the Widower,” the man said, his voice low and bone-chilling. “And here I was, thinking you’d put up a fight.”

Tim drew his bo staff, eyes tracking Pru and Owens as they rushed toward the Widower, guns at the ready. He had barely taken a step, but they were already on the ground, Pru bleeding from a large gash in her neck and Owens trying in vain to keep pressure on the wound in between his ribs.

Quick--what were his weaknesses? No visible limps or injuries, no issues handling the weapons. He moved like a snake through grass, smooth and precise. The Widower’s blades gleamed in the moonlight, and Pru’s blood dripped onto the sand. Tim lashed out with his staff, catching one of the swords right as it flew toward his throat.

“I guess dead birdies tell no tales,” Widower whispered as he drove the second sword, the one Tim had forgotten about, into Tim’s stomach.

The vigilante staggered back, and fell to his knees, clutching his abdomen. The blade slid out and even through the gloves of his suit, Tim could feel his blood, warm and sticky. Was this how he was going to die? Mission incomplete, estranged from his family, bleeding out into the desert sand? He had never assumed he would survive in this job, but he’d at least thought he’d die as Robin. Oh god, he was never going to be Robin again.

The ground rushed up to greet him, sand in his mouth and eyes and hair. He supposed that it didn’t matter--it’s not like corpses care anyway. With his last ounces of strength, he rolled onto his back. Somewhere, some last shred of knowledge told him that this would keep him from bleeding out, but deep down he knew it was too late. Tim just wanted the stars to be the last thing he saw.

As darkness encroached on the corners of his vision, his mind drifted back to Bruce. This was it. The only father figure he’d ever had, or at least the only one who liked him as he was, would be doomed to never return. And it was all Tim’s fault.

The afterlife was dark. And cold. Tim had never been religious, aside from that year of Hebrew school his parents insisted he take in middle school, but even he knew that this wasn’t right. It took a second, but the cold and dark sharpened into something Tim knew well, his kitchen at home. Well, at Drake Manor.

The marble countertops gleamed, as did the floors, and Tim recalled tiptoeing around in his early childhood, so not to dirty them. The kitchen--really, the whole house--had always felt like a mausoleum. Cold, impersonable. Lonely. In some ways, a lot like Tim.

He drifted through the house, looking pointedly away from the family portrait that hung above the fireplace. It had been painted a few months before his mom was killed, right after he became Robin. They all looked so stiff, like actors playing a family in a movie. Actually, actors would probably do a better job than they did. That portrait had been the first thing Tim had put in storage when his dad died.

The curtains were drawn, letting in the gray sunlight Gotham was so well-known for. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his lawn, except… not. Gravestones dotted the otherwise pristine lawn, some new and some old and worn. He hesitated at the door, fingertips just brushing the doorknob. He was dead, it wasn’t like he could get hurt. Maybe this was some kind of purgatory that he had to deal with before he could move on. He pushed against the door, anticipating the old hitch in the hinges that had been around for years.

The air held the same chill as the house, pulling at Tim’s breath. Front and center, practically in the doorway, was Bruce’s grave, the one they’d buried him in just over a month ago. But now the death date was scratched out, in its place a sticker like the ones Tim used to put on his skateboard. It read: Eternally Damned To Disappointment. It’d sound like the name of a band Tim might’ve listened to, if he didn’t know that the disappointment was in him.

The next grave was older, cracked and crumbly. The ground in front of it was disturbed, and dried blood streaks marked the bottom of the headstone. Here lies Jason Todd. Well, that didn’t last long. And unlike Jason, Tim knew he wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t that lucky.

Next was Steph, or at least the grave she pretended to fill. It was covered in flowers, some of them bouquets Tim had left himself. Tim had spent hours in front of it, telling her how much he missed her and loved her, praying for the first and last times. When she came back… well, they were more distant than he would’ve liked. That wasn’t Steph’s fault, at least not entirely, but it did make him wonder. What if he never took back the mantle? Would this have been easier? He could’ve been a semi-normal teenager, living with his dad and stepmom, mourning his girlfriend and being blissfully unaware of the shitshow that was heroism. But he wouldn’t have been happy.

And speak of the devil, there’s his parents’ graves, right next to each other. It was almost funny how they were closer in death than in life. A boomerang was lodged in his father’s gravestone, with an old flip phone opened at the base. It listed Tim’s number as the last call. His mother’s had a sticky substance that a voice deep inside Tim told him not to touch. He lingered at these graves for a moment, breath caught in his throat. It’s not that he didn’t miss his parents--he did. But he had only known a piece of them, only just deeper than surface level. They weren’t parents as much as guardians with high expectations. And for the most part, he had met or exceeded every goal they gave him. But it never was enough. There was always another class to ace or language to learn or party to schmooze at. Worst of all, they were cold. If Tim was the chill night air, his parents were Antarctica.

The next grave stopped him in his tracks. Bart. One of his best friends, his ally in all things. Gone, but not in the way Bruce or Steph were. Bart wasn’t coming back. There would be no more Hawaiian pizza and donuts shared over a comic book, or sleepovers on the floor of Mount Justice. No more Wendy the Werewolf Stalker Marathons. There was no more Bart, and it stung in a way that Tim didn’t have a name for.

He turned around, expecting that to be the end of it, but there it was. Conner. All at once, the weight of the world fell on Tim’s shoulders, like his own personal Kryptonite. His best friend, someone he had been more than a little in love with once upon a time. He knew Conner was safe now, alive and saving people once again. Without Tim. Conner’s death had been the one that broke him, more than any of the others. Because if Conner Kent, Superboy and heartbreaker extraordinaire, hadn’t made it, what chance did Tim have? Well, obviously not much. How was Conner going to take this? He wasn’t like Tim, this was the first time he’d be alone.

Aren’t you tired of losing the ones you love? Aren’t you tired of being the one left behind? A quiet voice murmured in the back of his skull.

Yes. No. Yes. A sob tore from Tim’s chest, and his hand flew to his mouth. This was so stupid. He had dealt with loss before. Hell, the past year had been one unending funeral. Of course he was tired, who wouldn’t be?

This had to be Hell, but that felt like even more of a betrayal. Even Jason had made it to Heaven. Was this his punishment for toeing the line? Had he not suffered enough? Biting back another sob, Tim ran blindly toward the door, slamming it shut behind him in a way that would’ve made his mother shriek. When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t in his living room anymore, but the Batcave. Even with his eyes full of tears, he would know it anywhere. And there was Dick in the Batsuit. And the demon in his Robin gear. Tim opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Dick looked up, expression weary.

“Tim, I already told you. Bruce isn’t coming back. I’m Batman now, and that means I get to choose the Robin. It’s about time you accept that.” It sure sounded like Dick. “Besides, it’s not like you were doing a great job anyway. You let Batman be killed on the job.” Damian sneered, leaning against Dick’s chair like a bully in a high school rom com.

“That-That’s not my fault!” Tim cried, heart pounding in his ears.

“Look, there’s an heir and a spare. There’s a new Robin now, you can be whatever you’re calling yourself now. Go do whatever you have to on this suicide mission, but leave Gotham out of it.”

Damian smiled like a demonic cherub. “Yes, Drake. Not even Grayson wants you anymore, if he ever did.”

Tim stood in shocked silence, unable to find words. Sure, Dick was focused on Damian, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t care anymore. After all, they were brothers, right?

He’s taken the only thing you had left. Don’t you want revenge? He took your mantle, you should take it back. The voice sounded like Tim, but contorted--like it would on a recording.

Tim--no, not Tim, something else--reached back for the bo staff. As his hand gripped the metal, something flew toward him, hitting him directly in the stomach where he had been stabbed. It clattered to the floor, and through his pain, Tim realized it was a Batarang.

Don’t you want more, Timothy Drake-Wayne? It coaxed.

Yes.

The new Timothy Drake-Wayne took his first breaths in a cave deep in the Iraqi desert, hundreds of miles away from the house and the graves that had haunted his dream. It was cold here, nearly as cold as that dream had been. If he was in Hell, it would be hotter, wouldn’t it?

Tim swallowed hard and pushed himself up. His stomach, where he was pretty sure he had just been stabbed, was free of wounds or scarring. If anything, he felt stronger than he had before. As his feet touched the stone cold floor, he took note of the ninjas scattered around the room. Okay, so he was back at the League. They must have… The prior strength he had felt disappeared as his legs gave out. Normally he would have rolled or caught himself or something, but his gaze was fixed on the other side of the room, where a glowing green pit resided.

Oh, no.

No weapons, outnumbered, barely able to stand. The disadvantages stacked up before his eyes, screaming that there was no hope of him getting out of this one. Not to mention that he was probably already on his way to insanity. Fuck, the last time he’d seen Jason, the former Robin had almost killed him. Would Tim end up like that, homicidal and cruel?

He struggled to his feet, clutching the stone table for support. He could take out two, maybe three, if he just stopped thinking. He was trained for this, he could--

“Hello there, Detective,” a cold voice purred, quiet but deafening in the silent room. A chill hovered under Tim’s skin. It had been a long time since he’d last heard that voice. Detective? Isn’t that what he calls your mentor? There was the voice again, the only remaining fragment of the dream.

Ra’s al Ghul was one of those people who intimidated you just by existing in the same space. He reminded Tim of every strict teacher and cruel board member and snotty dinner party guest all rolled up into one. Oh, and he was the leader of the world’s largest assassin guild. That was important too.

“Did you find what you were looking for, Timothy?” Ra’s said in the same tone.

The teenager opened his mouth, then closed it again, searching for words. “No,” he managed to force out. “No, I didn’t.”

Are you sure?

Ra’s smiled, like a predator that had just gone for the killing blow. “Well, I suppose that you will have more than enough time to complete your quest during your stay with us.” And just like that, he turned, a group of ninjas peeling off to escort him back to whatever pit of Hell he’d crawled from. “If you need anything, ask for the White Ghost. Welcome to the Cradle, Detective.” And just like that, he was gone.

Tim was only alone with his thoughts for a minute before a tall man with alabaster skin and medieval-style chainmail entered the cavern.

Okay, so this was the White Ghost impersonator. The League wouldn’t kill someone they’d just resurrected, so maybe once he was alone he could escape? Go back to Gotham and see Dick and Sebastian and Zoanne one last time before he truly went insane, then start going to that therapist Dick recommended. He could make it through this, he wouldn’t end up like Jason--

And then in walked Tam Fox, looking terrified but for the most part unharmed. And all of Tim’s plans came crashing down.

Tam was a civilian, and a Wayne Enterprises employee to boot. Her life, and his identity, were in danger now. He was both her only savior and her greatest danger. New plan: listen to this knockoff White Ghost, do whatever it takes to gain their trust, then make it out with Tam at the first possible chance. And do it all without going off the deep end.

Easy. Not.

“I am the White Ghost,” the shitty cosplayer said, his chainmail clinking as he moved.

“Isn’t he dead?” Tim murmured under his breath. He’d definitely seen Dusan die. But if Tim was still alive, then maybe…

“There has always been a White Ghost,” the older man responded, as if that answered anything. “Now, it is time you and your guest retired to your quarters.”

Tam looked over at Tim, big brown eyes wide with fear. He nodded once, tried to conjure a press conference smile, and allowed them to be led to lavish bedchambers. They looked like beautiful, windowless prisons.

The next few weeks blended into their own lethal monotony. Tam stayed in her room all day and Tim went to meetings with various members of the League’s regime. It was a little like working at Drake Industries or Wayne Enterprises, just with more murder. A lot more murder. But the meetings were easy enough, and Tim soon found himself getting to know the people he once despised. He didn’t like them by any means, but he wasn’t terrified anymore.

He kept looking for Bruce. The desert gave no answers.

Tam didn’t ask questions. She didn’t push too hard. She had to know everyone’s identities by now, didn’t she? Tim was just one Robin-shaped piece of the puzzle. Here he was, in the desert, yet another failed Robin. His whole tenure, he’d been trying to live up to Jason Todd, and now in a sick way he had. Wearing Jason’s uniform, having been resurrected the same way, he now dreaded catching up to the boy who had once been his hero.

On nights when he cried silently into the silk sheets, trying to forget the way Jason had looked when he first came back to Gotham, the voice soothed: You can be greater than he ever was. You can outshine all of the others. You will be remembered when they are dust.

The desert was cold. There was no comfort here.

His bedchamber was nice enough. There was a large bed with silk sheets and gold accents and an ensuite bathroom. A large mirror took up the space where a window might have once been, like some sort of philosophical conundrum that Tim was too tired to try to unpack. There was a small passageway between his room and Tam’s, and if Tim was just a little more naive he would have believed that the League forgot about it when they placed him in this room. But he knew better. The League never forgot a thing.

Sometimes Tim caught himself in the mirror and for a second he swore his blue eyes looked green. Tam came in the next morning to glass littering the floor and cuts covering Tim’s hands. She said nothing while she helped him wrap up his knuckles.

Tim had always been adaptable. It’s easier than the constant push and shove of rebellion. When his parents told him to take those classes and join these clubs, he did. When he was instructed to give impromptu speeches at galas, he did. He put in the effort, he always had. He was never the best fighter and never would be, but he was smart and quick and brave. That had to mean something, right?

Maybe that’s why Ra’s al Ghul liked him so much.

The first time Ra’s al Ghul asked for a private meeting with Tim, the ground seemed to tilt under him. The well-trained vigilante tried not to show the fear in his eyes as his vision blurred and his heart thundered in his chest. But he went, because one did not say no to the Demon’s Head.

“Detective,” Ra’s began as he sat down at a large, stately desk that seemed out of place in the rest of the Cradle. The voices--he had taken to calling them whispers--that had been clogging Tim’s thoughts preened at the nickname, ignoring its former bearer.

“Tell me what you know about my grandson,” the assassin drawled, his fingers tapping on the desk rhythmically.

“Don’t you have spies for that?” Tim responded, not quite a retort but not an innocent question either. He’d seen enough of the League’s intel that it was clear how much they truly knew about the world outside the Cradle.

“Yes, but I’d prefer to hear it from someone… familiar with him. My eyes can only do so much from afar.”

Tim had no doubt that Ra’s knew everything about Damian: from the route he took to school to the cereal he ate for breakfast to how many times he pet Titus when he got home from school.

“He’s a brat.” Tim’s chagrin even took him by surprise, like it wasn’t really him talking. “He’s rude and inconsistent and incredibly immature. He’s aggressive and undisciplined. A sorry excuse for a Robin.”

And there it was, the green monster of jealousy rearing its head again. Yes, Damian had taken Robin from him unfairly, and yes, he was all of those things. But why did Ra’s care?

“I see. Would you describe him as a leader?”

“No. If anything, he’s a bully and a mama’s boy. Leaders need to be able to listen to others.” Where was he getting this? Damian was a kid, he could learn. He still had time.

“Interesting.” Ra’s rose from his chair and paced the edge of the room. Tim refused to look back and follow his movements. That would be a show of weakness, a drop of blood in a shark tank. “Detective, what do you have in Gotham? What do you have there that keeps you from dedicating yourself to your cause?”

Nothing.

Tim stifled a gasp as he thought of the instant response. Dick and Damian didn’t need him. Stephanie hadn’t called in months, even before Bruce died. Jason had tried to kill him, last they’d spoken. The Teen Titans were getting along just fine without him. Truthfully, the whispers were right. There was nothing left for him in Gotham. If there was, he would have stayed.

“Nothing.” The anymore went unsaid.

“Then I may have a proposal for you.” Ra’s eyes glowed a dangerous green. A pit formed in Tim’s stomach, as the last few vestiges of him that hadn’t sided with the voices screamed at him to just escape.

“Oh?” Tim responded, mouth bone-dry.

“Stay.”

And Tim’s world crumpled.

“Learn under my agents. Train to become better than you are. Continue your quest with my resources behind you. All you have to do is stay and work for me,” Ra’s smiled like a hunter who had just shot big game.

This was a terrible idea. Tim didn’t kill people, he refused. He was supposed to help people, not hurt them. But he couldn’t deny that feeling like he belonged again was incredibly enticing.

Tim opened his mouth, but Ra’s cut him off. “Your friend will not be harmed. I won’t even think about putting you on an assignment until you’re up to par with my best ninjas. I will not make this offer again.”

The voice that responded was not Tim’s own.

“Yes.”

Tim thought that six months of training with Bruce was brutal. Ha hadn’t known brutal until now.

His first day of training, he showed up in his Red Robin suit, now patched and reinforced where he had been stabbed.

The tall ninja that seemed to be in charge scoffed, then sent him away. Not fifteen minutes later, a tailor descended on Tim’s quarters with a tape measure and a face made of solid stone.

“Can’t have you looking like a target, all in red. What was Batman thinking?”

Maybe he wants them to be targets, Tim and the whispers thought in tandem. He balked at the thought, but the tailor’s firm hands kept him in place. What was he doing? Bruce had loved him, did love him. He had taken care of Tim when no one else would. Bile crawled through the back of Tim’s throat, but he swallowed it down.

The tailor finished her measurements and scanned Tim up and down.

“It will have to be black, of course. Reinforced joints, kevlar, the whole nine yards,” she stated in a lilting accent. “Maybe some green accents, dark ones. Classy. Half-mask, no more cowls or dominos.”

Red, yellow, and black were his colors and had been for years. A tribute to a boy he loved and lost then loved some more. But Conner was back now. And Tim was tired of mourning, especially when no one was dead. Well, except him.

“Green,” he agreed, swallowing thickly. He wasn’t Red Robin anymore, not really. And he could always wear the suit again. This wasn’t a finale, just a hiatus.

She nodded once and then swept away, leaving a teenager clutching the last thing he had of his old life. Tim folded the suit, the way Alfred had always chastised him for, and gingerly placed it in the bottom drawer of his wardrobe. He wouldn’t need it anytime soon.

The next day, a precisely wrapped package sat outside Tim’s door bearing no signature. He knew exactly what it was.

Upon peeling back the paper, he saw the full glory of the new suit. It was midnight black, with dark green stitches that were beautiful up close, but would be near-invisible from far away. It looked like a cross between the ninjas’ garb and body armor--sleek and sure of itself. A hood was attached to the back of the neck, with the green stitching spelling out something Tim couldn’t discern. A half-mask with built in air filters covered the rest of the face. As he patted the suit down, he felt where all the separate compartments were for weapons and utilities. It reminded him a little of the costumes from high-tech spy movies.

Sitting on the floor with his new suit in his lap, Tim added another item to the long lists of debts he owed Ra’s al Ghul.

His first real day of training, Tim was beaten so badly he could hardly drag himself to his room.

It wasn’t that they had intended to hurt him, but he had gone almost a month without training. Bruises laced up his cheekbone like their own little domino mask, a little memento of times gone by. His joints screamed out in pain as he collapsed onto his bed. At least he hadn’t broken any bones. Or been stabbed. Or died.

Tim only had a few minutes to contemplate the stuntman funniest fails video that was his life when a gentle knock came from the door.

“Come in,” he groaned, flopping over onto his side so he could see his company. His mother would have scolded him for not standing up to greet a guest, but she didn’t have much sway from six feet under.

A girl with olive-tan skin and a brunette bun stepped into the threshold, her smile the gentlest thing he’d seen in a long time.

“Hello, my name is Aminta. I figured you could use some help with your wounds.” Her voice was lower than he expected, but pretty nonetheless. A dark, untraceable accent threaded through her words.

He peered up at her, frowning.

“Is this a hazing thing? Am I being hazed?”

She chuckled, then sat on the ottoman at the edge of his bed.

“Not hazing. The new recruits tend to help each other through the first few months. Safety in numbers and all that. I thought you might want some assistance.”

“So, you’re all friends?” That didn’t sound right.

“No,” she hesitated for a moment, “not exactly. Friends is too... common. We are assassins, but we have honor. When we need to, we take care of our own.”

Ah, so he was one of them now. For some indescribable reason, that didn’t fill him with as much dread as he thought it would.

You have no friends. You never did. Just those who you will rule and those who you will crush, the whispers added.

Tim smiled, the shy grin he used when he wanted teachers and Wayne Enterprises board members to underestimate him.

“Thank you, Aminta. I’d appreciate that. My name is Tim.”

She winked at him, clearly a joke.

“Believe me, I know.”

The League had a mole.

Or at least, they were going to. Tim had known enough corrupt businessmen in his time in Gotham’s upper echelon that he was well versed in the signs of someone double-dipping. At first it was little things: missing pieces of inventory, strange new guard shifts, incorrect mission intel. By the time it escalated to money being skimmed off the top of jobs, Ra’s was furious.

When he called Tim in for a meeting, something that was becoming increasingly normal these days, Tim was expecting fiery rage. Instead, there was steel-sharp cunning. It was a little like looking in a funhouse mirror.

“Detective, it appears that we have a liability in our ranks,” Ra’s began, his fingertips caressing a blade. “I assume you’ve read the data I sent to your quarters, and I’d like your thoughts.”

Tim cleared his throat. He had spent the night before reading the reports, putting together the pieces. If this was a test, it was a wicked one.

“The incidents began shortly after the attacks by the Widower. It’s a piece of misdirection intended to frame either Pru or I as a mole. However, neither of us has any reason for betrayal. Pru is, and has always been, loyal to the League. And you are well aware that I have nothing left for me in Gotham, nor would I be stupid enough to allow myself to get caught.” His voice was smooth, the prince of Gotham giving yet another speech.

“There is someone who has means, motive, and opportunity. After reading your files, it is incredibly clear. He has a family of his own that he is loyal to, and during my resurrection, he was not in the Cradle. His computer prowess would allow him to mess with the system in a way few others could. It would have been a very clean job, if he had spread it out over months or years instead of a few weeks.”

Ra’s stroked his goatee.

“You mean the Expediter.”

“Yes.”

“Very well,” Ra’s rose from the desk and clasped his hands behind his back. “Now that we’ve established the perpetrator, it is time to establish the punishment.”

Ah, so here was the test. Ra’s wanted to see how ruthless Tim could be. It was a very good thing that Tim never failed an exam.

“Kill him. It will send a message to our other agents and whoever he worked for that we are not to be trifled with.” Tim’s hands shook, but his voice was full of conviction. He had always been a good actor, but it wasn’t clear how much was truth now.

“And his daughters?”

“Bring them to the Cradle. They’re young enough that they likely won’t remember him, and we’ll be able to shape their childhood. Perhaps one will become just as intelligent as her father, and wiser as well.” The whispers hissed wordlessly in disappointment, but it was worth it. Tim refused to order the execution of a child, no matter how loud the shrieking in his skull became.

There was a beat of dead silence, then Ra’s nodded sagely.

“Wise choice, Detective. I’ll put those orders into effect at once.” He smiled, his teeth gleaming as his dagger had. “I’m looking forward to the rest of our partnership.”

Oh, how the whispers laughed.

Life in the Cradle was, well, nice. Tim was training harder than he ever had, under much more strenuous conditions, yet he felt better than he ever had. He was stronger, for one thing, but for the first time since he’d discovered Batman and Robin’s identities, he was able to rest. He didn’t need to be up until dawn chasing people across rooftops or finishing reports or writing an essay for English class because he’d been too busy on patrol. Even in a den of killers, Tim felt almost safe.

That said, he refused to let his guard down. He’d sat in on meetings with the inner circle of the Cradle for months now, trying to use his famous brain for something important. Which for his purposes, meant destroying the League as best as possible.

That was the only reason he’d stayed, or at least that’s what he told himself during nights where he twisted and turned trying to justify his choices. He’d exploit the League’s generosity to train himself and find Bruce, then take it down. Bruce would have to be proud of him after that, they all would. Maybe he’d even be Robin again.

He’d already taken out the Expediter, Ra’s’ guy in the chair. The guy confessed to the mistake of having a family and trying to work for the League at the same time. Good thing Tim didn’t have to worry about that anymore.

This is good, but it is not enough. You crave more. Do not be a coward, take it.

Now Tim was the techie for an international assassin guild, which would look moderately impressive on a college resume. Maybe it could count as an internship. Ra’s seemed like the guy who would make a relatively okay reference when Harvard came calling.

It always felt strange when he had lunch with Ra’s. It was eerily similar to the fancy lunches his mom used to drag him to, or the etiquette classes he was forced to take where he learned how to properly use a melon baller. Of course, it wasn’t like he was going to be killed for using a melon baller wrong then. Now, he knew that any wrong move could result in death.

Not his own death, of course. There was no point in Ra’s bringing back Tim, just to kill him again. Tam, however, was expendable. And that made the marrow in Tim’s bones shiver.

This particular lunch was more focused on memory lane than shop talk.

“So, Detective, tell me: what did you want to be when you grew up?”

Tim swallowed hard around his tea sandwich, his throat suddenly painfully dry.

“When I was little, I wanted to be a clown. Not a great career path in Gotham,” he began, attempting to keep his voice light. Ra’s looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

“Then, I wanted to be a photographer. Then, my father said I would be a CEO or I’d be disowned, so I wanted to be a CEO. I could always do photography on the side, you know?

“And then I became Robin.” He let the weight of that sentence sink over the pair.

“So? What happened after that?”

Tim resisted the urge to stare at his sandwich, instead choosing to meet Ra’s’ bright green eyes.

“Then, I stopped thinking I would grow up.” There it was, the thing everyone had been trying to pry out of him for years.

“I mean, Dick barely made it out. Jason died, came back, went crazy, and now murders people for shits and giggles. Stephanie died, but only kinda. Damian’s got a stubborn streak a mile wide. In the wild, robins live for a year, maybe two if they’re lucky. I don’t think anyone realized how similar we all are to those stupid birds.” Tears pricked at the backs of his eyes, but he didn’t need to cry. All that pain was gone now, replaced by something else. He couldn’t name it, but it kept all the sadness away.

Tim had been sad for his whole life. It was a relief when the roiling ocean inside him froze over. Numbness was an improvement.

Ra’s leaned across the table, his face barely a foot from Tim’s.

“You know, Detective, you remind me of myself. Not when I was young, of course, but when I had just begun to build my empire. All your life you have been told to quiet down and listen instead of speaking. You’re a fine leader because of it. You adapt when others are stubborn. You make plans while they push through without a second thought. You are a snake lying in wait, anticipating the right time to strike. I admire that.”

The air hung in silence as Ra’s stared directly into Tim’s soul.

“You know,” Ra’s finally said, “I think you could be truly great one day.”

Tim barely breathed as he nodded his thanks. When Ra’s finally leaned away, his first breath felt like the first gasp of air from a drowning victim.

“Before our lunch concludes, and I do so enjoy our lunches, I have a query for you.” This wasn’t out of the ordinary, Ra’s liked to give him riddles to keep him on his toes. “Some of our ninjas, though I will not say who, have gone rogue. A year or so ago, they got themselves caught up in some nasty business. My current intel places them here, in this compound, where they’re using innocents as collateral, should they not get what they request.”

“What do they want?”

“My head on a platter.” Ra’s’ smile was bloodchilling. “Oh, Detective? I feel it’s important to note: international news stations are currently reporting you and Ms. Fox as having been kidnapped by these rogues. Any advice on how to fix that?”

So this was the second test. Another chance to prove his loyalty. Let Ra’s’ enemies go free, or kill them and forfeit his old life for good in return.

“I assume extraction is not possible?”

“I’m afraid that those deserters are incredibly well trained. The special units from any nation’s army wouldn’t even make it into the compound. My ninjas could make it in, but there’s no way they could take out the traitors and save the civilians.”

Tim nodded, pretending to contemplate. He already knew his answer.

“Bomb the compound, kill everyone inside. It’s better to cut off the rot now than give it the chance to spread.”

Ra’s did not smile, but his eyes glimmered with pride.

“My thoughts exactly, Detective.”

And just like that, the death warrant was signed.

Tam was waiting in his chambers when Tim got home from a long day of training, his body littered in bruises and cuts that would sting tomorrow. Her crossed arms functioned as a hug, like she was the only thing keeping herself together.

“Tim,” she whispered when he came into view, the word like a prayer.

He glided across the room wordlessly, and she wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“I managed to get someone to sneak me a newspaper. Th-They think we’re dead, Tim,” she said into his shoulder, words slightly muffled by the fabric.

His hand came up to stroke her hair, the way he used to comfort Cass after a particularly long day. Tim didn’t respond, and instead let her tears soak into his shirt.

Good. Now you have the element of surprise.

The Council of Spiders had a worthy namesake, as they were just as quick and deadly as any arachnid. Somehow they had crept past the League’s defenses, disabling the ninjas that got in their way. True to form, the assassins’ deaths were just as silent as they were--shadows fading out as dusk began to form.

Tim was preparing for another day of strategy and mind games when Aminta burst into the room.

“The Spiders are here. They managed to sneak in--no one knows how. You’re needed,” she gasped, as if she’d ran a marathon to deliver this message. Judging from her state of disarray, maybe she had.

“Tam?”

“I’ll protect her. Go!”

Tim didn’t have time to question these motives or worry about much more than tugging on his cowl and pulling out his bo staff. He sprinted out the door and into the madness, moving in a dangerous dance with the assassins he had trained alongside for the past few months. The League was good, great even. But with the element of surprise, the Spiders were better.

He couldn’t afford to think about what could happen if they lost. Failure was not an option, not anymore.

A shadow glided toward one of the empty hallways and away from the rest of the frenzy, a sword glinting in its hand. Something that had dug its claws deep in Tim’s bones pulled him toward the figure, urging him to follow. To finish the job.

If others saw red when enraged, Tim saw green.

The figure purposefully stalked toward the large office Tim had started to spend increasing amounts of time in. The footsteps were near-silent, but in his mind they echoed almost deafeningly loud.

The shadow had to know he was there. It had to. Tim was good, but a few months of training could never rival lifetimes.

The shadow glanced over its shoulder, a feline-esque smile on its face. It said something, probably a witty yet scathing remark, but it was drowned out by the cacophony of whispers in Tim’s mind.

Do it.

Finish the job.

Show them who you are, who you can be.

Prove yourself.

You are not a bird, you are not a bat.

You are a demon, and you do not know weakness.

Not a Robin, not Red.

You are Green, Green, Green.

Become who you were always destined to be, Detective.

Tim struck out with his bo staff, right into the shadow’s skull. It faltered, just for a millisecond, and that creature that was both Tim and not lashed out, quicker than it had any right to be. A dagger in his hand, sharpened to a razor-thin edge. He did not remember doing that. That same dagger, buried into deep tan flesh.

Then he was across the room, bones aching from being thrown into the stone wall. If he was still human, still able to rein in whatever was drowning out his senses, he would know to expect pain tomorrow. But he didn’t, and all he felt was the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

And he was up again, throwing himself at the shadow with the conviction of a greek hero who knew that this fight would be his last. A fist full of rings connected with his cheek, and he could feel the skin tear beneath the metal. Maybe it would even scar.

The shadow leaned heavily to one side, though whether it was from the stab placed between its ribs or a prior injury, Tim didn’t know. It lurched toward him, and he stabbed it again, this time twisting the dagger until he felt the give of a lung. The shadow was down now, and deep down Tim knew that he never should have beaten it, never should have landed a single blow. In a logical world, Tim would have lost ten times over. But in a logical world, Tim would have been dead for the past six months.

As if time was in slow motion but he was at normal speed, Tim glided through the seconds, pushing pressure points with the tip of his blade. The shadow’s sword lay across the hall, too far out of reach for retaliation. This wasn’t torture, but it was revenge--for pain and sacrifice and nights spent clawing at his own skin, wishing it still felt like his. Payback for months of sins he never would have committed, for the green that clouded his vision. But most of all, it was a promise.

After minutes that held years of heartwrenching pain, Tim delivered the killing blow, straight under the shadow’s chin and into its brain. He was covered in blood, tacky and rust-toned, but where a past Tim--a lesser Tim--would have balked or vomited at the sight, this Tim stood, cleaned off his blade, and hefted the cooling corpse onto his shoulder.

They can try to revive it with the Lazarus Pit. You cannot allow that to happen. You cannot fail, the whispers urged, but he no longer needed them. They were him and he was them. Green in every breath and thought.

Tim escaped into the desert and finished the job, just as he had always been taught to do. Ra’s would have been proud. Bruce would have been proud.

That night, after the Spiders had been exterminated and the mess cleaned up, Tim sat at the foot of his bed, staring at his hands. The ninjas had looked at him with what could be called pride when he staggered back into the fray, his face bruised and bloody and sporting a wound on his thigh. His silky clothes brushed past the injuries every few seconds, but he couldn’t muster the energy to wince, even though he knew he should.

Tam had managed to hide during the clash, and Aminta had kept her promise. Tim liked people who followed through.

After being given the all clear, he stumbled back to his room to wash out his wounds and scrub the smell of smoke off his skin.

He had only just changed into his silky clothes when a knock came at the door. Without waiting for a response, the White Ghost was in Tim’s room, staring down at the teenager with an unnameable expression on his face.

“Timothy Drake,” the man said by way of greeting.

Tim glanced at him and blinked owlishly, but did not respond.

“Ra’s al Ghul is dead.”

This gripped Tim’s attention, and he finally made eye contact with the assassin, his brow creasing in concern.

“You’re going to revive him, right? He told me that you have more Lazarus Pits near here, he can use one of those. How did he die?” A million scenarios raced through Tim’s head, films of the death of the Demon.

“They burned him on a pyre and left him in his study. No trace of cause of death, and we can’t revive him. Any DNA has been destroyed.”

Tim stared blankly, processing. The Demon’s Head, the invincible Ra’s al Ghul, was dead. Gone forever.

“Ra’s made plans, should he die,” the White Ghost continued. “Those plans include a new leader of the League of Shadows. And that leader is you.”

Tim sputtered, “What? You can’t be serious. I’m seventeen years old. Why not you? Or Talia or Nyssa? Or Damian?”

“I do not make light of these things. He said you, so it is you. I am the White ghost. He had not contacted his daughters in years, and his grandson is too unpredictable to be suited to the position. You are the Demon’s Head, Timothy Drake.”

Tim stared back numbly. He was the Demon’s Head. The Cradle was his, these assassins were his, the world was his. He wanted power, and now it had fallen into his lap. The White Ghost kneeled before him and bowed his head. “I will serve you, Timothy Drake, in whatever way you see fit. I will be your eyes and ears and hands. I will obey you and carry out your orders. I pledge my allegiance to you, and only to you.” Satisfied with his vow, he rose to his full height.

Tim swallowed hard, then looked back up. “I accept your vow and thank you for your loyalty.” Then, “When… When will the rest know?”

“Tomorrow, at noon. I thought it might be best for everyone to rest, and for you to know first. We can discuss further details tomorrow morning, but for now, know who you are.”

Tim nodded stiffly and pushed himself to his feet, straightening his spine the way his mother had taught him to. He had been raised to become a prince of Gotham, one of the pretty boys that graced magazine covers and made headlines at charity events. Now, he was a king of assassins, an emperor of the underworld. If only she could see him now. Maybe she’d even be proud of him, for once.

“Thank you, White Ghost. We will speak again tomorrow. Should there be any issues during the night, I would like for you to inform me immediately.” He may be clad in silk pyjamas, but there was leadership in every fiber of his being. The whispers hissed in agreement.

“Fadir Nasser. My name is Fadir Nasser. Long live the Demon’s Head,” the White Ghost--Fadir--said as he left the room, the last remark stinging with a hint of a joke.

The door locked shut behind him, and Tim flopped backward onto the bed, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His gaze fell to the closet, where his suit was stuffed in the corner, smelling of smoke and burning flesh and the irony tang of blood. The whispers quickly supplied a description of the events, but Tim could picture them clear as day--carrying Ra’s to the desert, building and lighting a pyre, then bringing the body back and placing it in Ra’s’ study for someone to find. It was incredibly simple, almost too simple for no one to have done before. But Tim was Green, Greener than anyone had ever been before. And no one would ever know.

He’d need to invest in a new suit befitting his new role, maybe bring back some green accents. He no longer needed to mourn Conner. He no longer needed to mourn at all. He was the Demon’s Head, and he would never die.

The whispers laughed cruelly, like the audience of a poorly-written tragedy.

The transition of power wasn’t smooth, but it was quick. Assassins weren’t particularly known for their loyalty, and Fadir made it clear that any dissenters wouldn’t even make it to the door. They only had to clean blood off the stone floors once before that lesson sunk in.

As far as coups go, it was pretty successful. The whispers had quieted, just a little. Tim could sometimes make it hours without the hissing in the back of his mind, reminding him that he couldn’t rest. With power comes paranoia, and Tim was intimately familiar with both.

Now to rid himself of liabilities.

It had been a particularly lucid day, and Tim’s near-silent footsteps were the only hint of noise in the hallway. Tam had been given the option to move her room closer to his, but had refused. He didn’t blame her, it was hard being the civilian favorite of the assassin king. Tim knew this well.

Tim knocked on the wooden door, two quick raps. Somewhere deep in his memory, he wondered if this would have been his life, had everything been different; maybe he’d be knocking on Tam’s door before picking her up for a date. Instead, he straightened his shoulders, put on the shy smile Tam thought was his true one, and waited for her. Shuffling on the other side of the door, then a creak as it swung open. Tim glided in, and Tam looked at him with those big brown eyes, her expression tainted with a touch of fear. He didn’t remember her ever being afraid of him before.

“Do you want to go home?” Tim asked. No preamble, just his soft question in the quiet room.

Tam didn’t even think about it first.

“Yes.”

Tim nodded, then drew out a one-way ticket to Archie Goodwin International Airport, leaving tomorrow night. He held it out to her, that soft smile on his face and a promise in his eyes.

Tam tentatively took it, but kept looking at him. “Are you serious?”

“You’re not a prisoner. I’m sorry I couldn’t let you leave earlier, I just wanted to make sure the League was stable first. My intention was always to get you home.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

Tim slipped his hands in his pockets. “You’re my friend. I just want you to be happy.”

Tam pulled him into a hug, and for a second it felt so nice it almost hurt. Then it was over, and he could be comfortably numb again.

“Aminta will be coming with you, just to make sure you get home safe. Once you’re with your family, you won’t have to see any of my… agents ever again.”

Tam nodded, her face screwed up in an effort to keep from crying. He turned to leave and give her privacy, then paused.

“Tam? Thank you. For being my friend.”

Then the king of shadows disappeared into the night, yet again.

Tim frowned at the wall, a small comms unit tucked in his ear. He hadn’t moved from this room in a day, not since Tam and Aminta left.

“Okay, Aminta, I need you to keep close. You said that it’s just Batman and Robin? No Batgirl?”

“Just Batman and Robin. They haven’t spotted me yet. Robin’s really fallen behind since leaving us.”

Tim growled under his breath and carded a hand through his hair. It was getting long again. Who did Ra’s go to for haircuts? Did he just do it himself?

Focus.

The facts were these: Tam had been contacted by Batman and Robin immediately after Lucius Fox gave word that she was home safe. Tim had been expecting this, and Aminta was sent to follow Tam and ensure that the interaction went favorably. Which is to say that no one killed Tam because of what she knew. Aminta was currently hidden on the same rooftop as Gotham’s favorite heroes, listening in on their rendez-vous.

“What’s happening? Report.”

“She’s telling them--why don’t I just play their conversation? I have the capability.”

“Do it.”

A crackling came over Tim’s comm unit for a few brief seconds before it shifted to three familiar voices.

“It’s okay, Tam. Just tell us everything. From the beginning.” That was Dick. He sounded the exact same way he had when Tim left, tired and a little pained. Serves him right. “Yeah, okay,” there was Tam’s voice, slightly higher pitched than normal. “So my dad sent me to find out where Tim Drake was. And I managed to track him down to Iraq. So I’m in my hotel room one night, and I wake up to someone putting a cloth on my nose. Then everything went black, and the next thing I knew I was in this cold stone room. Then this albino guy tells me to stand up and we walk into this big hallway and there’s Tim. And he’s all sweaty and looks super freaked out. Then they brought us to these bedrooms and told us that we’d be staying a while.”

“Why would they take you?” A third voice asked, the snobby tone immediately registering as Damian. The brat.

“I’m not sure. Maybe my search for Tim sent up some flags? No one ever told me.” Her voice cracked a little, and maybe once upon a time, Tim would have felt sorry for her. Not anymore.

“It’s okay, Tam. After you moved into the Cradle, what happened?”

“Tim spent a lot of time training or with Ra’s. He couldn’t tell me much, but apparently Ra’s took a liking to him. One of the inner circle guys turned out to be a traitor, so Tim took his job. I didn’t see him a lot.”

“Who was the traitor?” Damian again, with a hint of anger in his voice. Or was that fear?

“Some computer guy. The Executioner or something.”

“The Expeditor?” It was definitely fear in Damian’s voice. He sounded like a child when he was scared.

“Yeah, him. I just hung around for the most part. They had books. They gave me makeup and nail polish when I asked for it. I was bored, but never threatened.” Tim snorted. Tam knew more than anyone that just because she didn’t have a knife to her neck didn’t mean she wasn’t in danger every moment of the day.

Dick cleared his throat, then spoke again, “Why did Ra’s let you leave?”

Tam went quiet, just for a second.

“Ra’s al Ghul is dead.”

A beat of silence. Tim would have paid millions to watch them right now.

“How?” Damian, his voice filled with fear, and maybe a little pain.

“I-I don’t know. There was an attack by the Council of Spiders. Tim had them lock me in my room with a guard. Some of the girls I talked to said that Ra’s was burned afterward so they couldn’t revive him. No one knew until the day after.” Tam’s voice was shaking now.

“Then where’s Tim?” Dick asked, finally caring about his younger brother after all this time. What a joke.

Tam stuttered a few times, but eventually got the words out. “Tim… Tim’s the new leader. Ra’s named him his heir before he died.”

A hiss sounded over the comms. That had to be Damian.

“Thank you, Tam. I appreciate you answering our questions. You know where to find us if you remember anything else.”

Some shuffling obscured any new words, then Aminta’s voice appeared. “They’re leaving, do you want me to follow them?”

“Yes,” Tim responded, massaging his temples. The whispers were getting louder now, to a point where it was impossible to understand any one message. It was hard when they got like this, harder than when they teamed up. At least then he didn’t feel like a helpless teacher in a rowdy classroom.

Maybe a minute ticked by before Aminta was back. “They just went a few rooftops away. Robin’s clutching Batman’s cape and crying, but it’s like angry crying. He’s mumbling something, but I can’t understand it. Batman’s rubbing his back, but he looks miserable too. Less angry, more sad.”

“That’ll be all, Aminta, thank you. You can return home tomorrow,” Tim sighed. “Our dear friend Tam has done us a favor, so we should be ready for the consequences.”

“What favor? Telling them everything?”

“Not everything. We still have an ace up our sleeve.”

“What advantage could we possibly have, other than knowing that they know?”

“Tam didn’t tell them about my little swim.”

Somewhere, there was a universe where Timothy Drake-Wayne woke up on the morning of his 18th birthday and put on a suit, ready for a day of meetings at whatever company he was interning for before he started college. Maybe he had a party with his family or a date that night. This is what Tim thought about as he busied himself getting ready. He had never been one for birthdays. Jack and Janet were rarely home, and even when they were in Gotham, they had better things to do than celebrate a child. He didn’t blame them. Before he came to the Cradle, he wasn’t worth celebrating.

The ornate mirror in his bathroom showcased his attire: a loose-fitting white shirt, tailored brown silk pants, and a dark green cape that almost resembled snakeskin. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, but he left them. They made the blue stand out. Here was the heir Ra’s had craved so badly. The old Tim would have made a joke about how he looked like a dark prince from a young adult novel, but not anymore. He was the Demon’s Head now. No, not just its head. He was its hands and heart as well. Tim Drake was a demon through and through.

His guests had landed in Iraq the day before, and he had it on good authority that he could expect them that evening.

Tim drifted around the room, preparing for the meeting as one would prepare for battle. His fingertips lingered on the rings he had inherited from his predecessor, and with a deliberate movement he chose the signet ring Ra’s used to wear. He slipped it on and smiled to himself, a snake poised to strike.

Carefully, he patted his wrists, hips, and ankles to ensure his knives were still there. He had always favored batarangs, but he was no longer a bat or a bird. He had left them behind, just as they had left him.

The White Ghost was waiting at his door, ready to escort him to his study. As they walked, Tim absentmindedly ran his thumb over his knuckles. The whispers hissed inaudibly in his ear, wailing for attention.

“Has the room been secured?” He asked, face neutral.

“Yes. I have placed ninjas along the walls and at every access point. Any familiar with the al Ghul child have been sent on missions abroad, though they remain loyal to you.”

“They leave here alive. If they attempt to attack, I want them subdued but not killed.”

“That’s not wise. It will be seen as a show of weakne-”

“Do you think I am weak?” Tim’s voice was as ice cold as he felt.

“No, of course not,” Fadir backpedaled. “But how can you justify it?”

“By the time I’m done, there will be no need to kill them. This is just a courtesy call, a reminder that my prior allegiances are no longer viable.”

Tim swept into the study, his back straight and his jaw square just the way he had always been taught. From birth, he had been raised to be a prince of Gotham, one of the many pretty boys in suits who graced Forbes covers before they could legally drink. He had been bred for greatness, and he achieved it in his own way. Here, no one would ever best him. He was finally free.

Soon you will have everything. All you have to do is make one order.

Tim’s hands shook slightly, but he tightened his grip on his fountain pen as he sat down. The day was full of reports, requests for missions, and invoices. He had been doing most of this paperwork anyway when he was just a lackey, so it wasn’t an inconvenience. It was methodical in its ruthlessness. $750k for a political assassination in France, 40% taken for the League, the rest wired to a private bank account in the Cayman Islands. $25k to kill a cheating spouse in South Africa, the same 40%, and this time headed for a Swiss bank account. A request for a league member to “take care of” an abuser, which Tim set aside. An invoice for new training blades, as the older ones had been dulled. A new Lazarus Pit that was discovered in Iceland.

The sun began to sink outside of his window, and Tim collected himself, drawing the last shards of who he used to be away from the surface. That Tim was dead and gone, and in his place was someone who was finally worthy. If the old Tim was a bleeding heart, this Tim was the knife that stabbed it.

Fadir knocked on the large oak door to signal that their guests had arrived. Tim pushed himself out from behind the desk, pulled back his shoulders, and stalked out of the room, refusing to look back. It wasn’t that he couldn’t show any weakness--it was that he wasn’t weak at all. Not anymore.

Tim walked down the now-familiar hallways, the whispers humming in happiness as others averted their eyes respectfully as he passed by. Aminta stood at the left hand of the large stone throne in the formal hall, and dipped her head in greeting when he approached. Tim took his place on the throne, relaxing into the smooth stone. Fadir took the right-hand side, his hand on his sword’s pommel at all times.

Ninjas lined the walls, all ready for battle at a moment’s notice. Most had been training for decades, long before Tim was even a thought. And now they served him. One lone ninja entered the room, first bowing to Tim and then scurrying up to the throne.

“They have arrived, sir.”

Tim grinned darkly.

“Bring them in.”

Dick looked older than he had eight months ago. His cowl was pulled up to hide his face, but Tim could see it in the set of his jaw. For a man in his late twenties, Dick looked positively weary.

Serves him right.

Damian was stiff, both an heir and a stranger in a child’s body. He glanced at the ninjas placed around the edge of the room, as if searching for a familiar face. He wouldn’t find one.

Tim did not smile when the man he had once considered his brother approached.

“Hello Dick. Damian.” His voice was colder than he ever thought it could be. “You can remove your masks, everyone here knows who you are.” Or they did now.

Dick hesitated for a fraction of a second, then pulled off the cowl. Damian followed suit with a grumble, peeling off his domino.

Satisfied, Tim smoothed a neutral expression onto his face.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, the words pleasant but the tone as sharp as a blade.

“Is this where you’ve been all this time?” Dick burst out without preamble. It was a shame that he couldn’t exchange pleasantries, even after all of Alfred’s lessons.

“Not exactly. I was in Paris for a bit, caught up with some old friends.” An old friend, one who probably hadn’t even noticed he was gone. None of them had.

You are powerful because you are alone. Others would betray you. You can trust no one. The whispers chimed in, though they were merely repeating what he already knew to be true.

Damian hissed his displeasure, which earned him an evil look from Dick. Look, he’d already been replaced.

“Tim,” Dick began in a gentle voice, the one he used for scared kids. “Come home. We can figure this out. We’ll get you help, maybe even try that therapist I told you about. Or we can shop around, it doesn’t matter. I miss you. I miss my little brother.”

How pathetic.

“Oh, I believe you misunderstood. This is a business meeting, not an intervention,” Tim hummed, examining his fingernails. The cold steel of the knives tucked in his sleeves was a delicious reminder of who he was, who he had always been destined to become.

“In that case, I believe some clarification is in order. Following the death of Ra’s al Ghul, I became the head of the League of Shadows, a position I am very proud of. I will not be returning to Gotham, unless it is for League business, and I will certainly never fight at your side again.

“In truth, Dick, I have not thought about you or your brat once since coming to stay at the League. I understand that our previous relationship may have led you to believe that I would be a naive fool forever, but that is not the case. I have found meaning now more than you could ever dream of achieving.

“Here is my proposition: I will cease training of any assassins younger than age sixteen immediately. I am also currently updating how the League accepts jobs to minimize the amount of innocent casualties. I will waive all rights to Wayne Enterprises, though anything Bruce willed to me will remain mine. In exchange, you leave me and my assassins alone. You will not contact me unless seeking my services. You can keep your Robin, but he lost his birthright a year ago. These are my conditions, and they are non-negotiable.”

The chatty Dick Grayson was speechless. Instead, it was Damian who spoke.

“You stole my birthright.” For a child, he sounded downright murderous.

Tim smiled. “And you stole mine. I believe that makes us even.”

The child nodded, then drew his sword. Along the walls, ninjas drew theirs as well.

“Damian, no!” Dick hissed, glaring at his brother-ward. “Tim, you can’t be serious. We’re family. This is insane!”

Tim’s expression did not display the glee that bubbled in his chest.

“We were family. But you know what they say, the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” He dismissed Dick’s other accusations with a wave of his hand. “I have given you my terms. You have forty-eight hours to make your decision. Until then, I believe you have overstayed your welcome. You should leave.”

Green pulled at the corners of his vision as the whispers shrieked, begging him to go ahead and kill them. He couldn’t, of course, that would just invite more prying eyes to the League. But he could think about it, and that was enough.

Dick and Damian were almost at the doors when Dick stopped and turned to face Tim, his posture teenagerishly defiant.

“I don’t know who you are anymore,” he spat, as if Dick Grayson had ever truly known Timothy Drake.

Instead, Tim smiled. “I’m the Demon. And you should leave before I make you see Hell.”

A second later, they were gone. Watching them go felt like getting an injection--the pinch lasted for a second, but afterward there was no pain at all.

Demon Demon Demon Demon Demon Demon Demon, the whispers howled as Tim’s blood sang, welcome to your kingdom come.

His hands had always been cold. Ariana used to comment on it all the time--how his touch was borderline freezing. At the time, it had been a running joke: Tim Drake, the boy made of snow, with eyes made of ice and snow-pale skin. It seemed now that even in the heat of the desert, his heart had frozen too.

Nighttime was comfortable in the desert, at least for someone accustomed to Gotham’s climate. Still, the breeze that danced across Tim’s skin left goosebumps in its wake. He couldn’t remember when he’d come out here, let alone what for. He barely even noticed how he gripped the banister of the balcony until his knuckles went stark white.

A little prickle of emotion prodded at his subconscious, but he couldn’t identify it even if he wanted to. There was no room for feelings anymore, if there had ever been. If anything, feelings had gotten him into more messes than out of them.

He had become a vigilante because he felt that Batman needed a Robin. He worshiped the ground Bruce walked on because he felt like Bruce saw him as a son. He broke the rules for Stephanie because he felt as if she could love him. He wanted to be with Conner because he felt that someone finally saw him for who he was. He rejected power time and time again because he felt that it was the right thing to do.

But feelings meant nothing. All that truly mattered was knowledge and wanting. And Tim knew more than ever. And he wanted it all.

Once, he had considered them his family. They had loved him, maybe, but they had never known him. He used to believe in a future spent fighting by their side, but he knew that was a child’s dream now--the same child who believed that he wouldn’t live to see twenty-one. Tim had no such concerns now.

He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that the League was his new family, nor did he need one. But they would not underestimate him or take him for granted. Here, he had respect and power, and that was enough.

The lights of the nearest city glimmered far on the horizon, promising happiness and gaiety somewhere in the night. He smiled, a secret only for him.

One day, you will rule it all, the whispers promised. One day, you will be king. And you will destroy any who stand in your way.

Long live the Demon.

#batfam #dc fanfic #batfam fanfic #batfam big bang 2020 #bbb 2020 #tim drake fanfic #tim drake #ra's al ghul #tam fox #no grave can hold my body down #ngchmbd #my writing #read the warnings

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