#and now Damian WHY AM I THE ONLY ADULT IN A ROOM WITH MY PARENTS!

[batcavescolony]

It looks like Damian is joining Dick And Tim in the "we have to hold a 48yo man's hand to make sure he doesn't f up" club

[ragingbookdragon]

What Is A Mother, But The Woman Who Loves Us Most?

A Batmom x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: I know there is a story like this already (by a different author) but I should preface that this is a story that I posted a year or so before but deleted my previous blog last year, so it's not going to seem like it. I haven't copied any ideas, this is my own that I posted a year or so ago, and re-posting again now. -Thorne

You are not my mother!

The loathing words came out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he watched the cave go deathly quiet around him. Everyone's eyes were wide, even hers, but a millisecond later, they set in a hard stare as she stood straight, her jaw tightening.

She nodded, staring at him. "You're right Damian. I'm not Talia al Ghul. I'm not your mother. But I will tell you what I am." She raised her left hand, flashing the silver wedding ring on her finger. "I'm your father's wife. And what I tell you to do in this manor is what I expect from you."

He shook his head in anger, glaring at her. "This is my father's manor!"

"No Damian, this is the Wayne Manor. And I've been, to use a rather weathered term, the lady of the house for almost fifteen years. Long before you were even a thought in Talia's mind." He stopped and she crossed her arms. "I may not be your mother, but you are a child and your father and I are the adults. When you turn eighteen, you can make all the decisions you want. Until then, what we say goes."

His lips drew in a taut line and she added, "I've already talked about it to Bruce. You're not allowed on patrol after what happened at the gala. If you want to complain to him about it, he's going to tell you the same thing." Her eyes shifted to the others, then she looked back at him one last time before turning around and walking up the stairs.

When she was gone, he let out a shout in anger and threw silver coffee pot against the cave wall. It hit the wall with a clang and dropped, rolling on the ground a few times as it spilled its contents, much like his mood.

He felt their eyes on them and he whipped his head up, glaring at them. "What?!"

Tim and Jason simply narrowed their eyes at him, but Dick walked forward and knelt in front of him. "Kiddo, that wasn't a nice thing to say to mom."

Damian scoffed at him before shoving past, climbing up the stairs. “Like the three of you haven't said that to her before." There was no return to his statement, giving him all the answer, he needed.

***

He stepped out of the study stretching his arms and listening to the sound of his bones popping before he shifted, moving towards the door. The boys had left a few minutes earlier to catch a rerun of an episode of Vikings, leaving him alone in the cave.

Alfred walked up to him, handing him a sweater before motioning to the door. "Mrs. Wayne has taken a seat out on the patio. I suspect you'll wish to see her."

Bruce nodded, taking the sweater from him before thanking him and moving out of the study and towards the patio. He crossed into the living room as he did, stopping to stare at his four sons passed out on the couch. The TV was still going, so he leaned down, gently taking the remote from Dick's hand and shutting it off.

He set the remote down and started his path again, but stopped when he heard, "You going to check on mom?" He turned around, looking at a his oldest.

Bruce nodded, taking in the sight of Dick’s arms wrapped around all of his brothers. “After you boys told me what happened, I thought I should talk to her about it."

Dick nodded, reaching up and rubbing his eyes, careful not to wake the others beside him. "He didn't mean it...he'll see that when he gets over being angry."

Bruce nodded and leaned over, ruffling his hair. “Tell Jason that you two should stay at the manor tonight...it's too late for you to head home anyway."

Dick started to argue, but a look from his father and quick, “Your mother would have a fit if you two tried to drive home now or later…you know that.”

His son nodded and Bruce turned around once more, this time making his way to the dimly lit patio. His hand curled around the cool metal handle of the sliding glass door, and he quietly opened it, stepping out onto the deck. She lay on the porch swing, covered by a heavy hound’s tooth blanket, with a barely full wine glass in her hand.

He walked towards her and bent over, picking up the wine bottle; he shook it lightly before quipping, "I can't believe you've drank an entire bottle in one sitting."

As if finally noticing his presence, she tipped her head lazily to him and mumbled, "It's empty?"

He snorted and tipped the bottle upside down. "As it was the day before it was bottled."

Bruce paused and grinned as she huffed a laugh and brought the glass she had in her hand up to her mouth. He watched her down the rest of her red wine before she set the glass on the table; he set the bottle beside it and shifted her forward, easing his way behind her until they were both comfortable. She rested her back against his chest, her head dropping against his shoulder. His arms came up around her as he pulled the blanket up to her neck, keeping her warm.

He was quiet for a second then he murmured, "...The boys told me what happened earlier."

There was a moment of silence, then she whispered, "I know I should be used to it after hearing it come from each of them..." She stopped, then continued with, "But it still stings to hear it."

A sad smile crossed his lips as he pressed his lips to her temple. "Of course it stings (Y/N)...you're their mother and you love them." After he didn't receive a response from her, he tipped his head and looked down. "(Y/N)? Love?" She turned her head, and he took in the sight of the tears in her eyes; his face fell at the sight and he brought a hand up, cupping her cheek. "Oh…sweetheart."

(Y/N) choked out a sob and pressed her face into the crook of his neck as she clenched a hand in his sweater. Bruce rested his chin on the top of her head as he rubbed her back, comforting her with quiet words.

***

Damian watched them from the screen door, feeling his heart clench in his chest at the sight of (Y/N) sobbing. He swallowed thickly and stepped back, only to come into contact with someone—something. He let out a quiet gasp and spun around, seeing Dick staring sadly out at his parents, Tim and Jason behind him doing the same.

Damian looked at them and whispered, "What are you three doing?"

Dick glanced at him briefly before motioning to them. "We heard the sliding door open, and we went to listen."

"I didn't know you were eavesdroppers."

A hand came up and cuffed him upside the head; he held his head, glaring at Jason who bit out, "Shut up, two-bit. You were eavesdropping too."

Damian opened his mouth to retort, but shut it and turned back around, looking at her. A moment passed, then he mumbled, "You said the same thing I did." He looked up at his brothers, who wore clouded expressions; each of them nodded after a few seconds, and he asked, "What happened?"

Dick was the first to speak, remembering a time from when he was a mere ten years old.

***

He stomped angrily through the house, not even caring about her following him; she called after him repeatedly. "Dick. Dick, honey, stop for a second."

He didn't listen, still moving. "No! You grounded me!"

"And I grounded you for a reason. You deliberately disobeyed me." He grunted at her and she called out, her voice ringing with authority, "Richard John Grayson. Not another step young man." He stopped at it and she continued, "You left the cave tonight and went on patrol without asking. As your mom-"

He spun around, his eyes angered as he spit, "You're not my mom! Stop acting like it!" Her mouth shut, and her eyes went wide from the declarations.

She blinked, obviously stunned at his words, and she stared down at her hands murmuring, "I may not be your real mother...but I...I am...I..." She drew off, bringing a hand up to wipe at her cheek. Dick's widened when she looked up at him, and he saw the tears beginning to spill, running down her cheeks.

He raised his hands out to her. "Wait! I—I didn't mean it!"

(Y/N) looked down and she brought a hand up to her mouth, moving past him, letting out a broken, 'excuse me'. He watched her go past him, then a few moments later, Bruce walked into the room and he turned to him.

"Bruce!" Bruce looked down at him, taking in the sight of Dick, who was almost in tears.

The lecture he had ready for him went out the window as he squatted in front of Dick. "Dick?"

The boy looked up at him, tears filling those big blue eyes. "I—I messed up B-Bruce."

He reached out a hand, wiping his tears away. "What happened Dick?"

Dick lowered his head and he whispered, "I a—accidently told (Y/N) that she wasn't my m-mom."

Bruce sighed at him and murmured, “Oh, Dick." The boy began to sob, and Bruce reached out, pulling him into a hug. "It's okay, bud."

***

Dick looked at her and murmured, "I've never forgotten the look she gave me after I said it to her..." He looked down at Damian, and said, "And neither has she."

Jason nodded at that. "I'm sure she's never forgotten how I left the cave telling her I had to go find my real mom.

***

"What are you looking at baby?"

He jerked forward, clicking the screen to minimize the images. "Nothing!" He spun around to see her walking towards him, an amused smile on her face.

"And I'm assuming that nothing is not important?" She questioned.

He nodded. "Not at all."

She stared at him until he sighed and turned around, clicking the screen to reveal the images of the three women; she walked up to him. "Who are these women?"

He pointed to each one. "Sharmin Rosen, Lady Shiva, and Sheila Haywood."

(Y/N) nodded, looking at them. "They're very pretty women." She paused and looked at him. "But why are you looking at them." He dropped his gaze and picked at his fingers. "Jason? Hon?"

He looked back up at her. "One of them is my mom."

Her eyes widened as she said, "Like...your biological mom?"

He nodded. "I found out after I went back to my old apartment." He looked between the screen and (Y/N). "I'm gonna track them down." She was silent, her eyes moving to the screen, and he turned to her, rising from the chair. "I have to go find them...I have to go find my real mom."

***

"And those were the last words I ever said to Ma." They stared at Jason as he leaned against a table by the door. "And it got a lot worse when I came back...I said horrible things to Ma...about her not caring...about her not being a mother." He went silent and shook his head. "I fucked up a lot of things between us for a good couple years."

Tim watched him, then nodded. "I hadn't even realized I'd actually said it to mom...it was such an offhanded comment that I didn't even know what I said until she was gone."

***

He barely registered the sound of his bedroom door opening, let alone the sound of her footsteps as she walked up to him. He did, however, hear the disappointment in her tone as she said, "Timmy...you need to go to bed."

He shook his head, typing on the keyboard. "I'm fine."

"Honey, you've been awake for almost forty-eight hours." She rested a hand on his shoulder. "It's not good for your body if you stay up like this."

"I'm fine. Really, I'm good."

She squeezed his shoulder, the other hand reaching out to close the laptop. "You'll be good when you're asleep in bed." Skimming the top of this laptop, she stopped when his curled around her wrist.

He turned to her and said, "Will you stop mothering me? I'm fine. I don't need your help."

He let go of her and turned back to the screen, barely registering the way she quietly whispered, “Alright Timmy...goodnight”, and walked out of his room.

***

"The only reason I actually realized what I said was after a few minutes, I realized that she hadn't told me she loved me after saying good night." He paused, digging a groove into the carpet with his toes. "Mom didn't say anything about it the next day, but I could tell that something had shifted. She was more reserved when it came to me." He looked at Damian. "Look, I know you and I don't get along, but I'm going to tell you something brother to brother. Go apologize to mom and tell her that you didn't mean it."

It was all he said before he looked at the others and waved. "I'm going to bed.

Jason soon followed saying, "I'm with Timbers. I'm gonna go crash."

The two of them began making their way to their rooms when the sound of the screen door opening and closing brought their attention back. They looked towards it, seeing Bruce carrying (Y/N), her head pressed against his chest.

He stopped when he saw them, his surprised look giving way to a hard expression. "Were you four watching?" They all started making excuses, but he shushed them, nodding at their sleeping mother; they shut their mouths and he brought his foot back, sliding the door closed.

"Is mom alright?"

Bruce looked at Dick and nodded. "She's fine. Wine drunk...but fine." He looked down at Damian. "(Y/N) does a lot for all of us. You owe her an apology when she wakes up." Damian nodded, watching as he walked past them, carrying her up the stairs to their bedroom.

***

The dull throb in her head told her the migraine was something she was going to need some aspirin, water, and a heavy blanket to block out the light to fix. She groaned lightly as she burrowed her face in her pillow, then she opened her eyes and looked around the room.

Immediately, she took in the sight of the four of her boys curled up like cats in the bed with her. A smile graced her lips and she reached down beside her hip, running a hand over Tim's head; he shifted in his sleep, burying his face in her side and she struggled to bite back the laugh that wanted to come out. She reached over again and ran her hands through Dick and Jason's hair, watching them do the same.

She smiled at them, then a voice sounded from beside her. "Are you awake, Umi?" (Y/N) looked to her side, seeing Damian curled up beside her. Bruce's broad shoulders made him look so tiny from where he was laying and she nodded, raising a hand and caressing his head.

"I'm awake, sweetheart." He nodded, then moved under her arm, resting his head on her shoulder. Her arm settled comfortably around him, and she brought up her hand, gently running her fingers through his short hair.

After a few moments he whispered, "...I'm sorry, Umi."

Her response was to press her lips to his forehead, and murmur, "I know, baby."

He swallowed thickly, feeling the beginnings of tears gathering in his eyes. "I didn't mean to say it."

She nodded; her lips still pressed to his forehead. "I know you didn't, sweetheart. It was something said in anger."

He moved to sit up, looking up at her as he whispered harshly, "But I have hurt you! I made you cry! I...did this." He dropped his gaze, closing his eyes, and (Y/N) watched the tears begin to fall down his cheeks. He looked back up at her a few seconds later and said, "You are my mother, Umi...you are the only mother I've known."

(Y/N) shifted, careful not to wake her sons, then she cupped Damian's cheeks in her hands. "Baby...it's okay...I'm not angry at you."

He shook his head in her grip. "But you're sad because I said you weren't my mother."

(Y/N) brushed her thumbs under his eyes, wiping away the tears. "We all say things that we don't mean." He looked up at her and she searched his eyes. "What matters is that when they are said, we try our best to fix what we've done wrong."

Damian nodded his head and whispered, "I'm sorry, Umi."

A sad smile crossed her lips and she leaned forward, kissing his forehead. "I am too, baby." She pulled away and brushed his cheeks again. "I still love you though...with all my heart."

"You do? Even after what I said?"

(Y/N) nodded, pulling him to her; he rested his head under her chin, and she wrapped her arms around him as she murmured, "The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness." She brought up a hand, caressing the side of his head as she whispered, "Each of you has told me as some point that I am not what I am. But I know deep down that none of you meant it. And each time I heard it, it hurt...but forgiveness is a good thing when used."

"To err is human...to forgive...divine."

She smiled at his quote and squeezed him gently. "I love you, Damian...my beautiful baby boy."

The feeling of tears gathered in his eyes, but he blinked them away, his hand clenching in her shirt as he replied, "I love you too, Umi."

There was a moment of silence between them until, "How come the demon-spawn gets all the love? We were here first."

Damian raised his head, glaring at Tim. "I am Umi's favorite, Drake."

"The hell you are, Tater-tot. If anyone's the favorite, it's me."

"I think you're wrong, Little-wing. Iwas the first. I'm the favorite."

"No one asked you, dickhead."

"Mom! Jason called me a mean name!"

"Mom! Jason called me a mean name!"

"Stop mocking me!"

"Stop mocking me!"

"Mom!"

"Mom!"

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at her two oldest as they began to shove at each other, and eventually, Tim and Damian got into the mess, and she watched their fists and feet fly at each other.

A grunt sounded from beside her and she looked down to see her husband glaring at her. "You just had to get them going this early, didn't you, Mrs. Wayne?"

(Y/N) let out a 'pfft' and leaned down, pressing her lips to his before laying her head on his arm, their foreheads touching. "Yeah...but I know that when they're fighting like this, they're giving each other love."

"Tough love."

She snorted and tickled his side, feeling him jerk away. "But love nonetheless."

He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of someone grunting cut him off. "Mom! Jason won't let me out of this headlock!"

"Mom! Jason won't let me-"

"STOP MOCKING ME, JASON!"

"You're unbearable, Drake! I am Umi's favorite!"

"Keep telling yourself that, oompa-loompa."

"I am not an oompa-loompa!"

(Y/N) sighed and looked at her husband. "Never a dull morning, is it Mr. Wayne?"

He grinned at her but grunted when one of them hit his side. "No, it's not Mrs. Wayne. No, it is not."

[scandalsavagefanfic]

Hello! I am a huge fan of ur writing. I've loved everything I've read of yours. I've read alot of what you've posted, except for a couple of the tags that are squicky for me (so I'm very thankful you tag very thoroughly). No judgement for the squick, it's just not for me. & when I'm having a bad day, I usually just go thru ur ao3 and find something to reread. I think about Therapy's Bruce & Jason every damn day. While I obvs appreciate ur darker more "problematic" content (I really vibe with some of the themes you write about bc of my own trauma, & so it's very cathartic to read about in a fictional setting), I am truly a sucker for ur more happy content. The Happily Ever After verse also lives in my head rent free. Idk more wholesome stuff just seems more special when you write it. Anyways. I would die for you. But the point of this ask is cause I'm curious as to why you don't like Urban Legends? I'm sorry if you already talked about it here or on twitter and I missed it. I was just wondering because I really enjoy your take on things and would love to hear why you dislike it. I've been enjoying it so far personally, but I am always open to DC comics criticism.

Aw thank you so much! I'm so flattered by everything you just said. You're so sweet ❤❤❤❤❤

I haven't talked about Urban Legends here or twitter (I haven't been very active in either place lately. Just a lot going on and no energy 😔) but I'm happy to do it here.

Before I start though, I just want to add a standard disclaimer and make it clear that if you like it, there's nothing wrong with that and you don't have to let me ruin it for you lol. Like what you like.

That said, since you asked...

I said this when I was talking about it on discord, that there is a difference between hope and expectation. I always hope that a new story centered on Jason (or anyone really, but things have been especially egregious for Jay for 15 years) will be good or at least treat the character with a minimal level of respect (to be honest, the bar is super fucking low). But my expectations always temper my hope, to keep it from getting unrealistic. Because my expectations are based on experience.

The long history of Jason Todd, since even before his resurrection, has been one of retroactively trying to make him "a bad seed" in order to absolve Bruce of any responsibility in his death.

I don't even expect DC or their writers to start honoring the fact that Jason was not an angry, reckless Robin (and less of the later than Dick or Tim and definitely Damian). There plenty of ways that retcon can be folded into his history and be compelling and sympathetic. And if they're going to stick with that retcon, I'm only asking that they do it in one of those compelling and sympathetic ways because Jason was 15 when he died, heroically, in one of the most selfless acts in comics, to save a woman who literally handed him over to be brutally murdered. He was 12 when Bruce plucked him off the streets, he'd been homeless and fending for himself for at least two years. I personally think that Jason's story hits harder for him and Bruce if their original, canon relationship, of Jason as starry-eyed and eager to learn and absolutely devoted to Bruce and Bruce to Jason, is preserved. But Jason's origins does leave room for a meaningful interpretation of him as angry and frustrated at the lack of meaningful results of Bruce's methods.

And that's really where my irritation at stories like Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer and Batman The Adventure Continues has it's roots.

Every time one of these stories comes out, I think (or hope, rather) that this will be the one that remembers and respects the origins of the Jason and the Red Hood, that takes into account the changed sensibilities of comics readers in the 30 years since Jason's death and the subtle, 20 year, retroactive campaign to make him the "bad Robin". The "born bad" trope is played out and literally no one likes the message it implies. That some kids are just bad eggs and there's nothing parents or the adults around them can do. Especially when it's played as the kid's fault. If Jason's time as Robin is going to be characterized by anger, then it should be rooted in anger at the social injustices he witnessed as he grew up in an impoverished, crime-ridden, area and the horrors he faced raising himself when every day was a battle for survival. There are topical, meaningful, stories to tell with that backdrop.

But those are never the stories we get.

⚠⚠ Spoilers for Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer ⚠⚠

I'm particularly disappointed in Urban Legends because for the first issue, it looked like that was the kind of story we were going to get. I was put off by the first flashback of Jason being mesmerized by Bruce's guns, and I got that feeling in my gut that it was a bad sign. Jason depicted as impatient and overconfident and the scene with the guns is heavy-handed foreshadowing that got my spidey-sense tingling. I had a inkling then (in the first three pages) of how this story was going to play out, but it was early and I could still see many narrative paths that could lead to a satisfying story. My concerns were soothed somewhat and the little flame of my hope fanned, with the flashback of Alfred scolding Bruce, with Barbara's concern for Jason. A bit of worry returned with the way Jason ruthlessly pursued an addict who didn't appear to be a dealer and with the ending of the issue. The stuff with the addict sat wrong with me but the ending was tempered some by how despicable Tyler's dad was written. The scene was clearly set so that the reader could sympathize with Jason's decision and the scene with the addict could be brushed aside as a side-effect of comics over-the-top need for constant action, so I still held hope.

Issue 2 made me uncomfortable and it's where my hope starts to take a backseat to my expectations. I can dismiss Jason's self-deprecating internal monologue as unreliable narration, except that the flashback reinforces his thought process to explicitly show that it's not unreliable narration, and should be taken at face value. Jason faces physical abuse at the hands of his mother's drug dealer and when the flashback continues later, Jason kills the drug dealer. To be clear, this is a pre-Bruce Jason. His mom is still alive. He's like... 10. He kills this guy for shoving his head into a wall and implying Jason's mother paid for her drugs with sex. This is a scene that serves a single purpose. To show that Jason has always been prone to violence.

In the spirit of full disclosure, there is the small chance the drug dealer might not be dead. But the story obviously wants the reader to think he is, and it hasn't done anything to change that yet.

Starlin already did this story with The Diplomat’s Son in 1988 and he did it infinitely better. AND that’s still technically canon. So now I’m supposed to believe that Jason lost his cool bad enough to kill two douche bags before his sweet 16? Like it’s totally normal for abused kids raised in poverty, who’ve led hard and heartbreaking lives to just... haul off and kill people? That’s bullshit, and when taken with the Jason in the third issue, who is little more than an idiot thug, this story is really doubling down on some fucked up stereotypes.

Which brings us to the most recent issue. I went into this installment with very low expectations. I thought this story was going to be about Jason, through this experience with Tyler, a young boy with a similar background to Jason's, coming to the realization that Bruce's way is the best way and that Bruce did his best by Jason.

That would be annoying (in no small part because it takes increasingly absurd levels of plot armor to keep Bruce's no kill rule relevant, let alone irrefutably right). But I can probably live with that, if only because maybe if Jason officially falls back into line with the Bats crusade, maybe I'll get stories that treat him with respect, stories that don't relegate him to comic relief, dumb brute, or a background body with no lines in a story about the Joker burning Gotham (like Jason would just fucking stand there quietly for that).

And that may still be where the story is going, Jason realizing Bruce is right.

But holy shit do I not have the right words to describe how fucking insulting and gross issue three is.

From start to finish--including the flashback--Jason is written as cruel and fucking stupid. Like straight up dumb.

The entire issue is Bruce explaining the fucking basics to Jason like it's his first day. And Jason flies off the fucking handle and terrorizes a doctor he knows isn't a part of making the Cheerdrops, beats the shit out of some random addicts, and finally, when he can't accomplish anything on his own because he's a dumb brute he calls Barbara for help and rushes in with no information where he's promptly incapacitated and must now wait to be rescued by Batman.

This panel is the least of the issues sins but I can’t screenshot the entire story but it’s representative of the tone for the whole issue (and retroactively tainted the prior two issues).

This is beyond insulting. The only conclusions Jason comes to in this issue are the ones Bruce leads him to by talking to him like he can’t make the simplest connections. And like... in this story Jason can’t make the simplest connections.

This (and the Jason throughout the entirety of this issue) is a far cry from the Jason we fell in love with in Under the Red Hood, who was competent and strategic and intelligent enough to seize control of Gotham’s underworld from Black Mask (who’s no fucking slouch, he’s the first and only person to unify organized crime in Gotham) AND elude and manipulate Bruce until the time and place of his choosing.

This is a far cry from even the Red Hood and the Outlaws Jason who is competent enough to fight the League of Shadows and Ra’s al Ghul (among very dangerous and skilled others) and smart enough to create antidotes for mind control nanotech viruses.

As he should be, by the way. Jason Todd is one of the best, most comprehensively trained fighters in DC’s stable of non powered vigilantes. He’s not irrational or hot headed. He’s pragmatic, tactically minded, and patient. He’s a detective. Right now. Has been since he was 12. Bruce doesn’t have to make him one because he already is. 

Jason is not a stupid thug who uses his fists because his brain doesn’t work. And I can’t tell you how so very exhausted I am by this narrative. 

This is actually the most egregious example of Jason’s skills and intelligence being not just undermined but dismissed entirely. Even Morrison’s Jason had some degree of competency. 

The one, single redeeming factor of this story is the art. It’s beautiful. And Marcus To is a godsend he seems to be one of only a couple of artists who remember that Jason was a child when he was Robin and I’m literally only buying this book because of him. 

Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to come out so... um... passionately lol. I’m just very very tired. My intention with this isn’t to ruin it for you, if you like it, that’s fine. 

But this issue shot this story to the top of my "Vehemently Despise” list. 1) Batman: Urban Legends (Cheer), 2) Battle for the Cowl/Morrison’s Batman and Robin, 3) Batman The Adventure Continues.

I hope the next issues somehow salvage this dumpster fire. But I’m not expecting it.

(Damnit. That sounded harsh again. To reiterate, I’m not trying to judge anyone who enjoys it, I just personally hate it and you asked me why lol 😅)

[marauderundercover]

This Side of Normal Ch. 10

AO3

Prev

Marinette glances around the silent table, willing Jason to say something. Or do something. Or even Dick. She needed one of them to start a conversation, because Adrien hated awkward silences. And if this silence went on much longer, he was definitely going to say something and then she would regret it. Horribly. 

“These rolls are purr-fect.” Adrien says, out of nowhere. Marinette lets out a groan, of course he’d skip straight ahead to the cat puns. Of course that’s where his freaking mind was tonight. 

“Aren’t they? I’d say Alfred’s cooking is pretty claw-some, myself.” Dick speaks up, grinning at Adrien. Marinette looks at him, wide eyed. 

“That’s it. I’ll find a new trapeze partner and a new best friend. Both of you are out of my life.” She deadpans, ignoring Adrien’s offended gasp. 

“But Bugaboo, who else would give you a hand with your crazy schemes?” Adrien asks, and Marinette turns to him, narrowing her eyes. 

“I swear to god if you take your arm off right now you will never find it again.” She threatens, pointing her fork at him from across the table. 

“But Mari, that joke needs the arm. It doesn’t work without it.” He pouts, she rolls her eyes and turns to Damian. 

“I apologize for him. He thinks he’s funny.” She says, turning her glance back at Adrien. “He’s wrong.” 

“Tt. I’m unbothered by his sense of humor. I have lived with Grayson for eight years. His humor is nothing compared to those horrors.” Damian quips, and Marinette swears his lips almost quirk into a smile. She snorts. 

“Guess I made the right choice in throwing Dick to the curb, huh?” She teases, ignoring Dick’s gasp and Adrien’s reassurance to the man. Honestly, who was the adult here? 

“It was for the best, Dupain-Cheng.” Damian says and Marinette winces slightly. The only person who called her by her last name (in regular conversation, anyway) was Chloe. And while the girl had long since given up full on bullying her, she still wasn’t Marinette’s best friend in the world. 

“You can call me Marinette, my last name is kind of a mouthful.” She says, trying to be nonchalant about it. She’d heard him refer to everyone else as their last name the entire evening. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but him calling her Dupain-Cheng was going to make her uncomfortable in the long run. 

“Very well.” He says, and though he doesn’t say her name, she still counts it as a win. A throat clearing catches her attention and she glances at Jason who was glaring at Damian. 

“What’s up, Jay?” She asks, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Nothing Pixie Pop. Just thinking about the time you kicked the ass of that would be mugger.” He says, and Marinette frowns. Mugger? “You know, the one that was obsessed with you?” He clarifies, and she understands. Copycat had been reakumatized during Jason’s stay in Paris. And he had wanted nothing more than a date with Ladybug. Though, she couldn’t understand why he was bringing it up now. 

“I am so lost.” She admits, shaking her head at her pseudo-brother. He grins. 

“That’s fine, just sharing that you can kick ass with the table. In case someone wants to try something.” He says pointedly. Oh. He definitely caught the heart eyes she sent Damian back in the gym. Can he blame her, though? Her weakness was green eyes. And Damian’s were the greenest. 

“I did walk in on you hogtied, Todd. I assumed she was a reputable fighter after that.” Damian says, and Marinette blushes furiously. 

“I’m sorry, what happened?” Mr. Wayne asks, his vapid (and fake) smile replaced with a faux look of bewilderment. She briefly wondered if it was exhausting, putting on a constant act, until she remembered how tired she was throughout collège, before she started lycée and decided she didn’t really care. Yeah, acting constantly was tiring. But why did he do it? Jason nudges her lightly and she blinks, focusing back on the conversation. 

“Oh, Jason and I sparred. He apparently had forgotten that I use my surroundings to my advantage and that Adrien is always on my side.” She explains, shooting Jason a smug smile. Jason huffs. 

“Not always.” He says, and Marinette raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms and giving him a challenging look. 

“Oh really? Name one time that Adrien took your side instead of mine.” She challenges. She grins as Jason starts to think, obviously wracking his brain. 

“Earlier today!” Adrien pipes up, and she immediately turns to him, glaring. 

“What?” She asks, confused. What had- oh. Of fucking course. “That doesn’t count!” She protests, narrowing her eyes. 

“Why not?” Adrien asks, raising an eyebrow in a challenge. She scoffs. 

“Because it wasn’t a fight or argument or anything. It was a joke.” She says. 

“Are you talking about the adoption shit, cause that was definitely not a joke. All the kids B adopts definitely have trauma and certain features.” Jason cuts in, and Marinette sighs. Of course he would clue in. 

“But- no. No. That was a fluke. A glitch in the matrix, obviously. You literally cannot name a singular other time. And technically, ya big jerk, you didn’t even name this time. Adrien did.” Marinette points out, glaring at Jason. 

“I’m sorry, how long have you three known each other?” Mr. Wayne cuts in again, and this time- this time- she sees that some of the confusion on his face is real. But it looks odd, like he wasn’t used to expressing a real emotion. She really needed to remind herself to talk to Jason about this later. She didn’t necessarily want to make it a habit to stick billionaire fathers with asshole tendencies in jail, but she would. She’d do it for her boys. Any day of the week. She hums in thought, adding up the time. The anniversary of Gabriel’s defeat had been a few weeks ago, which meant-

“We’ve known Jason for just over a year.” She says, before glancing at Adrien and grinning. “But I’ve been stuck with this goof for four years.”

“You know you love me.” Adrien says with a wide grin. She rolls her eyes. 

“How exactly did you meet Jason?” Mr. Wayne asks, and she kind of wants to throw her fork at him. What was it, interrogate the random kids at dinner night? Though, to be fair, they were random kids in his house. But she refused to like the man until she’d talked to Jason about the potential assholeish tendencies. 

“He helped me learn some self defence after I got caught up in an akuma attack.” Marinette lies smoothly. Well, it was technically a half truth. But the Waynes didn’t need to know that she was always caught up in akuma attacks. 

“Akuma?” Mr. Wayne asks, and Marinette glances at Jason with a frown. Had he not told his father about anything? Not even the basics? 

“Wait, is that what the thing that flooded Paris is called?” Dick asks suddenly and Marinette nearly flinches from the memory. That was one of the akumas that still gave her nightmares. One of the ones that was burned in the back of her eyelids when all she wanted was to sleep. And not think about bloated corpses and dead classmates for one goddamn minute. She lets out a steadying breath, glancing at Jason whose face had changed from annoyance to concern. She resists the urge to roll her eyes. She could talk about akumas. It was the past. Sure, she had refused all of the therapy options her parents gave her and Adrien, but she didn’t need it. She was fine. 

“Yeah. Technically, her akumatized name was Siren. But, the general term for those attacks was ‘akuma’.” She says, gripping her fork a little tighter than necessary, grounding herself with Tikki’s reassuring nudges from inside her purse. 

“There were more?” Dick asks, his eyes wide. Marinette glances at Jason and raises an eyebrow. Why had he not said anything? He’d been there for an entire month of Hawkmoth’s reign. He’d seen dozens of akuma attacks. Jason shrugs. Thank Jay. Super helpful. 

“When you get down to it, there were probably hundreds if not thousands more. Some people, like Siren, were turned into the same akuma several times. Some people became a different akuma when they were akumatized again. I think it just depended on the person or their issue.” Marinette explains, hating how dry her mouth felt all of a sudden. She could talk about this. She could. So why was everything a little too bright? Why was the sound of forks against plates a little too loud? 

“Did the Justice League stop it?” Damian asks, though by his tone, he seems to already know the answer. Odd. 

“No, the local heroes did. Ladybug and Chat Noir.” Marinette says, ignoring the constricting feeling in her chest. 

“Why-” Mr. Wayne starts, but Jason clears his throat. Everyone glances at him, and Marinette is unsurprised to see the flicker of anger in his eyes. Especially after she glances at Adrien and sees how pale he’s gotten. She kicks him lightly under the table to get his attention, frowning at him in a silent question. He nods, slightly. She purses her lips, not believing for a second that he was actually okay. But they could talk later. Away from eager ears. 

“I’m sure you remember what Dick said about my phone call from when I first arrived in Paris. Marinette and Adrien dealt with attacks like that interrupting their day to day lives from thirteen to sixteen. I get that you’re not the best at knowing when to drop the damn topic, but I really think you should drop the damn topic.” Jason says, and though he’s smiling, Marinette can see the danger behind it. The warning. ‘Drop it, or I’ll make you’. 

“My apologies, it was just so interesting.” Mr. Wayne says and this time Marinette winces at the falseness in his voice. And the smile on his face. God, this man could not have lasted a day in Hawkmoth’s Paris. 

---

Finally, finally, dinner was over. After the akuma talk ceased, it was extremely awkward. Mr. Wayne looked like he would rather be anywhere else. And Marinette couldn’t blame him, wanting nothing more than to get back to her hotel room and away from the constant lack of real emotion on the eldest Wayne’s face. It was tiresome, just watching him. 

“Thanks again, for having us.” Marinette says, mostly directing her comment to Dick and Alfred. Alfred just nods. 

“Of course! Come back any time. Really soon, actually, so we can work more on the trapeze. I can’t lose my new trapeze buddy.” Dick says with a wide smile. Marinette holds back a sigh, nodding instead. She liked Dick, she did. But she’d definitely have to make sure that Mr. Wayne wouldn’t be around. She still wasn’t sure what to think of him. 

“You should also spar with me, some time.” Damian speaks up and Marinette blinks in surprise. 

“Spar. With...you?” She says, tilting her head in confusion. That came out of nowhere. 

“Yes. You took down Todd easily, and I am far superior. You would actually have a challenge if we sparred.” He says. She smirks, and suddenly, with a burst of confidence she didn’t know she had, says:

“Sure thing, Pretty boy.” Before turning and walking straight out the door. The second she’s outside, she drops her head into her hands. “I can’t believe I just said that.” She mumbles under her breath. 

“Pretty boy?” Adrien says with a smirk, she glares at him and moves down the front steps. 

“Fuck you.” She says, no real venom in her voice. The boy knew how she got around crushes. He’d seen it firsthand. With him. With Luka. With Kagami. With the girl with bright green eyes who worked at the coffee shop across the street from the bakery. She was an absolute disaster. He was worse, but still. He wasn’t the one with the quickly developing crush on the youngest Wayne. 

“Pretty boy?” Jason asks, a scowl on his face as he catches up to the two. 

“Not another word, Jason.” She scowls at him, crossing her arms defiantly. He holds his hands up in surrender. 

“Sure.” He says. Her mind rushes suddenly to her previous thought. Youngest Wayne. Damian Wayne. Hadn’t Lila- she snorts, before erupting into uncontrollable laughter, ignoring the worried looks from Adrien. 

“I- oh my god, Jay.” She manages to say, straightening up and following Jason to the car he was borrowing to drive them back to the hotel.

“I’m completely lost.” He says.

“Join the club.” Adrien adds, and Marinette just laughs again. 

“Your little brother is Damian Wayne.” She says, as if it should be obvious. Jason doesn’t get it, and neither does Adrien. But after a moment-

“Oh my god, that’s hilarious!” Adrien cries, letting out a chuckle. Jason huffs as the trio get into the car. 

“Care to share with the class?” He asks, and Marinette snorts. 

“Absolutely not, I dislike the majority of those people.” She says, referring to the group who was hopefully already in their rooms and not in the lobby of the hotel. “Now it’s funny that your brother is Damian Wayne because Lila made us come to Gotham instead of New York and London, because she’s dating him.” She explains and Jason scoffs. 

“Yeah right.” 

“Obviously she’s not actually dating him, Jay. But it’s freaking hilarious that she thinks she’s gonna get away with it. He definitely goes to Gotham Academy, and people are definitely going to call her out.” She says, not even trying to hide the absolute glee she’s feeling. If there was ever a time for all of Lila’s lies to come crashing down around her, now would be good. When she can’t just run away and claim Marinette set it up. If people Marinette didn’t even know called Lila out, well, that would be irrefutable evidence, right? 

“Her regime is gonna topple and I’m gonna take you guys out for ice cream to celebrate.” Jason declares and Marinette laughs again. She was so against the idea of Gotham originally, but now, with Jason at their sides again, she’d decided that it wasn’t so bad. Suddenly remembering what had been on her mind most of the night, she turns to Jason. 

“Jay, I have a serious question. And I know it’s a little hard to talk about but just know that we’re here for you to support you, and that we’ll figure out a way to make sure you and your brothers are safe and-” 

“Whoa, Pix, calm down kiddo. You’re rambling again.” He says gently, furrowing his eyebrows. He pulls the car over to the side of the road and turns to put his full attention on the two. “What’s bothering you?” He asks. 

“Is Mr. Wayne abusive?” She asks and Jason blinks. “I saw how hesitant you were to call him your father, and you were tense around him a lot of the night. And I don’t think the man had one legitimate expression all night. He was acting the whole time.” Marinette says, looking at him worriedly. “Look, Jay, I don’t necessarily want to make a habit of putting billionaires in jail, but I’d do it for you.” 

“Is he- you would-” Jason stops and lets out a breath, obviously trying to compose himself. “No, kiddo, he’s not.” He finally says. Marinette frowns. 

“Really?” She asks, and he sighs. 

“Yeah, look. Our relationship has been...rough, for a couple years. We had a sort of falling out when I was a teenager and I stopped talking to him for several years. We reconnected a while ago, but it’s still rocky at times. I don’t usually call him dad or father or anything. He’s just Bruce, or B, to me.” Jason explains and Marinette nods, letting out a small sigh of relief. 

“I was worried, Jay.” She admits, and Jason grins at her before pulling away from the curb again. 

“I didn’t even catch on.” Adrien says with a frown. Marinette rolls her eyes, smiling at him with fondness. 

“Course you didn’t Kitty. Reading people isn’t really your strong suit.” She says with a small smile. He huffs, but nods in agreement. 

“True.” He says and Marinette laughs. She could officially take Bruce Wayne off her ‘threat to be dealt with immediately’ list and move him to ‘possible future annoyance’ list. A big improvement for the man, and it would mean she wouldn’t be as tense around him the next time she saw him.

Next

Tag list: @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat @queenz-z @daminette-56

[fan-written]

Maribat Tropes AU

First

----

Dick wasn’t sure what to think when the cab pulled up to the building. The young girl he was sharing it with seemed shy and very lost, but one couldn't be raised by the world’s greatest detective without learning a few things. And one of those was how to spot fake tears.

He did have to give it to the girl. They seemed real. Right up until she wiped them away and climbed in. But maybe she was just relieved to have a way to rejoin her class.

Speaking of the class, Dick was very confused when she named Ms. Dupain-Cheng. He had emailed her several times over the last month about finalizing the tour as well as accommodating a few allergies for lunch and such. She seemed like a kind girl, but online interaction could be misleading.

He’d have to reserve judgment for now.

“Here we are, Ms. Rossi. I promise I will watch closely to ensure you don’t get left behind again today.” Dick guided her inside to find the class just settling into the waiting room chairs. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have a quick word with your teacher.”

She nodded and Dick had a hard time not staring at the pigtails hanging by her face. He was sure if Jason, or even Damian were near they would have called them sausages. 

He watched as the entirety, save two, of the class greeted her cheerfully. The interaction calmed some of his paranoia and it was easy to assume the tears were a one time thing. No, he wouldn’t fall down that rabbit hole and make mountains out of mole hills.

Dick quietly took note of how the two loners rolled their eyes at the greeting as he turned to speak to the teacher. She seemed competent enough since she was talking with the secretary about the tour, but the Lila girl said she believed stories made up by a bully. She also left a student behind.

“Madame Bustier, I presume?” He interrupted, “I’m the guide, Dick Grayson. Do you mind if I have a word with you?” 

She nodded and they stepped away from the counter. “Madame, if you don’t mind me asking, did you know one of your students missed the bus earlier? She’s lucky I was the one to find her.”

Dick was slightly shocked when she simply smiled, as if she wasn’t worried about the student. Something was seriously wrong with this teacher. “I did know, Mr. Grayson. My class president informed me on our way over that Lila wasn’t on the bus. I assumed she simply decided to skip this tour and stay in the hotel.”

“Why would she be allowed to do that?” The class president said she was missing? The same one Ms. Rossi said may have convinced the bus to leave early?

M. Bustier giggled as if he’d said something funny and Dick was thoroughly confused. “Why wouldn’t she be? This is a graduation trip and all but one of my students are considered adults. Those who are eighteen were allowed to sign a waiver towards the school that allows them to choose what activities they attend. Only Marinette is required to join every activity and that’s because she skipped a grade and is only just seventeen.”

Once again Marinette was mentioned. He really needed to know who she was so he could get this all straightened out. “So why did the bus leave without her when you weren’t sure if she was joining or not?” Seriously, what kind of chaperone didn’t check in with the kids first?

Dick looked back at the kids to find a few of them comforting Ms. Rossi. One girl with pink hair was glaring at the two who were separated, but the rest seemed to ignore them. The boy and girl were ignoring them back and seemed content to look over the business magazines they stored in the lobby.

“Because every bus is scheduled to leave at a specified time. If they aren’t on the bus by then I figure they aren’t joining us.” She shrugged as if it wasn’t her problem past that point, and he guessed in her mind it wasn’t. Just what were these parents thinking sending their kids to Gotham of all places with a teacher like this?

“Alright,” Dick nodded slowly. “Then Ms. Rossi wasn’t left behind on purpose?”

“Mon Dieu, no! She must have just missed it. In fact, I forgot to thank you for bringing her here Mr. Grayson. She is indeed lucky to have met you.” M. Bustier gave him a grateful smile and looked at her students with kind eyes. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Grayson, could we start the tour now? We have a play scheduled this evening and I’m sure some of the students would like to rest before we go.”

He nodded again, “Of course. Why don’t you gather the students and I’ll get the visitor badges.” At least when he passed them out he could put names to faces. Why did he ever think this would be an easy favor to Tim?

-

Richard Grayson: prefered name Dick, eldest of Bruce Wayne’s children, detective for the Gotham City Police, tour guide for their group as a favor to his brother, and currently giving her a blank stare.

Marinette wasn’t sure what she’d done since their last email exchange, but she was betting it had something to do with Lila. Mr. Grayson was still professional, but when he handed out the visitor passes she received a hard stare, as if he was trying to piece together clues. Seconds later he sent a text to someone and started the tour.

She normally wouldn't have taken note of the text, but he'd looked right at her as soon as it was sent then looked over at Lila and M. Bustier. Marinette just hoped that he found the truth instead of whatever lie was whispered in his ear.

"Mari, what's going on?" Allen asked. His eyes darted to Mr. Grayson before he raised an eyebrow. 

Kwami, she loved her friends. They were always attentive to potential problems. It was probably a side effect of being heroes for as long as they have been.

"I'm not sure," she shrugged, "but you saw him arrive with Rossi. I have a feeling she spun a web and he's not sure what to believe. We've already talked through email so who knows what he thinks." At the moment, probably nothing good. How was this her life?

Allen hummed and updated their group chat. "Well the others know now. Maybe they'll have an idea on how to counteract anything she says."

Marinette nodded but wasn't sure they'd have anything new. She'd just have to use her actions, like always, to prove she didn't do whatever lie was spread.

----

Next

----

Hey! So I’m a little shocked at how part one was received, like I have a tag list!! I am a little new to this whole posting my own work though so if I missed your name just let me know and I’ll try to add it next time. Thank you for all the love!

Tag list:

@ladybug-182 @theymakeupfairies @violetfandomaddict @ultimatetornshipper @prudencerika @heckofhell @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @charming-mage @just-an-observer-ignore-me @i-need-blog-ideas @mewwitch @user00000003 @nathleigh @goblinwhoships @indecisive-mess-named-me @fantasyloversblog @hetalia-lover-is-here @miraculousandmore

[supersilversleuth]

This Pain Isn’t Real (Because I Couldn’t Handle It Alone If It Was) by SuperSilverSpy

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)

Rating: General Audiences

Category: Gen

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Stephanie Brown, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown, Dick Grayson-centric, Dick Grayson Whump, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Whumptober2021, touched starved, Bruises, Starvation, SuperSilverSpy, SilverGrayson, SilverWhump, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne’s Parent, I think I might have attempted, Fluff, in this

"I'm telling you, brat, Goldie is probably fine. It wouldn't be the first time he'd run off without telling anybody. Besides, it's only been..."

"Tt, something doesn't feel right, Todd. He would have answered my calls by now, if he were oka—"

Jason saw him first, then Damian. Both of them freezing in place, staring at him with wide eyes.

OR Dick&fam in the aftermath of his kidnapping (comfort-ish fic)

No. 6 - TOUCH AND GO bruises | touch starved | hunger

Part 6 of 2021 Most Whumperful Time of the Year - Dick Grayson-centric

Language: English Words: 1,410 Chapters: 1/1 Collections: 1

It’s fine, Dick thought, it’s fine.

Your fingers are bruised , said that incredibly negative voice in his head, so are your toes, and your back and your bu—

Shut up , Dick thought back firmly, I’m not bruised, see? He looked down at his arm. No bruises. I can’t see them so they’re not there.

Liar, hissed the voice.

Memories flashed through his mind, courtesy of the crazy witch lady that had captured him two weeks—no, two days ago.

Just because it felt like two weeks and she said it was two weeks and my body is missing two weeks worth of breakfasts and lunches—doesn’t mean it was two weeks.

Afterall, the newspaper and his phone and the nice old lady across the hall said it’d only been two days.

So, Dick concluded, he had no right to be acting as he was. Kneeling on his living room floor, barely clothed, holding his weak and shaky arms out awkwardly as if keeping them from touching anything would make them hurt less.

Which, he thought, it might.

But it was all in his head, the bruises weren’t actually there. It only felt like they were. Just because he’d seen them with his own eyes didn’t mean they hadn’t gone away when he’d escaped.

Even so, Dick couldn’t bring himself to move, let alone stand up and actually do something productive. Any time any part of his body so much as touched something, it would hurt. Not to mention, his muscles were sore and achy, and he was very thin and malnourished. Stupid witches and their pain-in-the-a** magic. Dick smirked bitterly to himself at the pun.

You’re pathetic, said that incredibly motivational voice again.

Fine, Dick thought back, I’ll get up.

So he did. Well...he tried to at least. He made it to his feet, staggered a bit, and collapsed against the side of his couch. Progress.

Oh but how it hurt . His feet couldn’t handle the pressure of his body weight--lessened though it was--and when he hit the couch, it was as if every breath of air left him at the pain.

Dick groaned.

—

He didn't notice it at first, through the agony, but a couple hours later he could really feel it.

The cold.

Oh, f*** his life. The one time when his skin felt so tender he felt like a mild breeze might send him crashing to the ground—and now he was feeling cold.

It was ironic.

His blankets were heavy and soft, but it was the heavy part his brui—body didn't agree with. Dick dragged himself onto his couch, pressing against the cushions. Stars seemed to spark in his vision, pain radiating from his shoulder and arm, where he was putting the most pressure. His legs sank into the scratchy fabric as well, creating a sharp ache in his shins.

Dick shivered.

It felt as if he were trapped in a freezer. He breathed heavily, trying to control his breaths, looking ahead of him as if he might see the product of frosty breath in the air.

Relax, it's nothing, it's all in your head. He thought to himself.

Dick shivered again, tried to keep his teeth from chattering. It wasn't a very successful attempt. Against his better judgement, Dick rubbed harshly at his arms. He felt as if he was tearing through his own skin, though he did feel a very brief flash of warmth.

When was the last time I had a hug? It was three weeks ago—no, just a little over a week.

Dick sighed into his couch. He was a grown adult now, there was no reason for him to be sitting there, wishing for a hug as if he were some hopeful, naïve child.

Just as he was in the process of making himself pass out from pain, the door opened, and in walked two of his younger brothers.

"I'm telling you, brat, Goldie is probably fine. It wouldn't be the first time he'd run off without telling anybody. Besides, it's only been..."

"Tt, something doesn't feel right, Todd. He would have answered my calls by now, if he were oka—"

Jason saw him first, then Damian. Both of them freezing in place, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Hey, hey Dickie?" Jason asked slowly, "You alright?"

Damian burst into movement, hurrying towards Dick's side. He knelt on the floor, hesitantly putting a hand on his shoulder.

Dick held perfectly still, trying not to flinch away or show any kind of pain. But Damian knew him better than that.

The kid's warm palm against Dick's skin felt wonderful, and there was hardly any pressure behind it.

Dick felt his eyes water at the relief.

Behind them, Jason scoffed, shuffling his feet as if uncomfortable. Finally, he began heading towards Dick's kitchen, muttering curses under his breath.

Not long after and there was a loud exclamation from the kitchen, Jason had probably found out just how much food Dick...didn't have.

"Richard?" Damian asked him, completely ignoring Jason in the background. "What happened to you?"

"It's—it's nothing," Dick stuttered out, "N—Nothing happened."

He shivered, instinctively clutching Damian's arm, bringing it up to his face.

Damian's expression was solemn, yet concerned. "It's alright, Grayson. You needn't have to tell us."

"You're so warm," Dick shuddered, running tender fingers along Dami's arm.

"Richard? Where are you injured?"

"Everywhere." Dick felt the words slip through his usual defenses. He would've felt surprised, but all he could feel was numb except for that one spot where his little brother's hand lay on his cheek.

Baby Bird pulled back, and the previous warmth was gone, taken from him. Dick whined at the loss. Damian froze yet again, startled expression trained on him.

"Dami..." Dick whispered, drawing out the "e" sound. "Come back."

His arm flopped out, reaching out half-heartedly for the kid. It hit the edge of the couch, sending a wave of pain through his arm and back to his chest.

"What is wrong with you, Grayson?"

Dick closed his eyes, muttering tiredly about physical touch and feelings of cold--likely caused by starvation, he might add. Not because he needed a hug or anything. He hoped Dami would get the hint without him having to actually say it.

"You...of all people..." Damian stared at him in disbelief. "I consented to such physical atrocities just last week!"

Sighing, Dick turned his head away. "It's a long story."

He opened his arms as wide as they could go (which wasn't very), and tried to look inviting.

With mild grumbling, Damian stood, slipping onto the couch to join Dick there.

He sighed, content, wrapping his arms around the boy and burying his face in the kid's hair.

—

"Geez, what happened here?" Steph took in the disorganized mess before her.

Jason scowled. He wore a stained, ugly-yellow apron around his waist, and looked like he'd been in the middle of cleaning up something nasty.

"Dickface went and got himself starved in the two days he went missing—how is that even possible? And he seemed to be all drugged up on some sort of cuddle concoction. He was in the middle of snuggling the demon spawn when his fever started."

Steph winced. "How bad is it?"

"He's been lucid exactly twice since the first time he woke up and spat out parts of his stomach that I'm pretty sure should still be in there. The little sh** there though," Jason nodded to where Damian was adorably curled up within Dick's embrace, "Somehow Dick doesn’t splatter him every damn time he expels little bits of his organs. And he won't let go of the kid. I swear the universe is getting back at me from the last time I flipped it off..."

Steph cracked a smile, "So why am I here then? You're obviously being overdramatic about Dick's health, I can tell you're not that worried, you know."

The man just chuckled, tossing her the mop that had been in his hands before. "The next time Goldie wakes up, I'm gonna have some soup all ready for him. You, young lady, are here to clean up the rest of this mess."

Steph looked around, opening her mouth to argue.

Jason just raised his eyebrows, shooting her a pointed look as his phone seemed to materialize between his fingers.

Crap. That's what she got for letting blackmail material fall into the wrong hands.

[chronicbatfictioner]

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 20

The dinner was just as Jason expected, bland, dull, a lot of formalities in which Bane was visibly struggling with and did not even bother to pretend to know the difference between steak or salad forks. Jason, Dick, and Tim managed to keep the conversation alive and light, somehow without offending the formality of the dinner. Good thing, Jason thought, that The League had taught him of formal dinner etiquette and whatnot, otherwise he would have been slurping the baiwang with the soup spoon instead of the Chinese soup spoon provided by Alfred - like Bane.

Dick, for all of his lack of etiquette education, won in the manners division - regardless of the fact that Tim was helping him by pointing out which cutlery should be used for what. At the very least, he was not beneath asking what he wasn't sure of. 

The day after was a little duller. Alfred merely informed them that the police were there along with the District Attorney, Harvey Dent, to arrest Bane on several counts of murder. Bane was arrested nearly without a fight - he had been purged of his venom strength and knew that he had no chance against some of the cops who were ready to taser him.

Jason was... frankly, a little disappointed.

"Would've been nice if there was a brawl or something," Dick voiced Jason's thought out loud just as he walked outside.

"Oh, goodness, I'm just glad this is over," Bruce commented, glaring apprehensively at Dick's back as the latter walked away with Damian. There was a good long silence before he added, "I presume now that Bane is out of this house, Damian will no longer need you two? I mean, he has me now - and his grandparents." he pointed out.

"I have vowed to guard Damian until he is an adult," Jason replied simply. Ignoring Bruce's sudden change of expression. "it is my order."

"Well, Talia... no offense. But Talia won't-- is no longer around to hold you accountable." Bruce argued.

"No, she's not. But Damian is." Jason looked at the child, sitting under one of the Manor's massive trees with a thick sketchbook before him. Dick, Jason knew, was on the tree. Even with Bane arrested, Oracle had warned that as long as he's not fully incarcerated in a maximum-security facility, he could still either get out and hurt the Waynes - including Damian. Therefore Jason asked Dick to remain with them for a little while longer. Thankfully, Dick didn't mind.

"He's a child. Children adapt well with changes of environments," Bruce said. "and if you're afraid that Bane would come back, I can hire some bodyguards for him."

Jason managed to hold back his smirk. People always thought that he was there to protect Damian; not realizing that he was protecting others from Damian's temper. Instead, he smarted, "like you protected your parents by sending them overseas."

"Oh, now, that's not fair." Bruce protested. "It was... we all thought that... at least mother and I..." he didn't finish his sentence as he exhaled exasperatedly. "His DNA check is back," he continued after a few moments of silence.

"Obviously, he hasn't a drop of Wayne blood in him," Jason suggested, a little dryly. "Something anyone with knowledge of the molecular structure of DNA would have known right away. You accepted Damian right away because you saw he has your mother's ears, in spite of his green eyes. Yet you doubted your father's denial in spite of the fact that there is nothing on Bane that resembled any of you - including about all of the portraits of your ancestors.

"And then there's something else I realized. Bane came with nothing; whereas Damian came with the Al Ghul wealth. You were more accepting because Damian would not equal splitting the Wayne wealth..."

"That is not true!" Bruce growled. "I would not have turned Damian away even if he was not Talia's child. He is my child, and I know that he is!"

"Then we're back to my initial point: You were unable to defend your parents because you did not have 100% faith in their virtues. The Al Ghuls are known leaders of the League of Assassins, to which the leadership shall now be Damian's. What will be your argument, when he decides to take over the League fully? 'Oh, I can't be associated with criminals, even if said crimes were just allegation and not a video recording of someone snapping off another person's neck'?" Jason sneered. "Now, Mister Wayne. I also would like to remind you, that I have Damian's legal custody. If you insist I should leave, I shall bring him along."

"You can't do that," Bruce scowled. "He's my biological child..."

"You have studied your country's laws, Mister Wayne. But you forgot the one crucial thing: Damian is not your country's boy by any means other than your claim." Jason mentally realized that he has placed one of his ace cards onto the table. But he honestly prefers this kind of conversation not to be had when Damian is present. And from the looks of it, he has packed his sketching materials and was making his way back indoors. "Do not try to deny Damian's access to me, or the League, Mr Wayne. He is not yours to manipulate," he added softly while Damian was still out of range.

"Hey guys, Damian and I are hungry," Dick announced as they went past the door. "Think Alfred would let us have cookies?"

"He's the one who is hungry, Todd," Damian told Jason. "I shall wait until tea time for the cookies. It is only a mere hour away."

"Why don't you scrub up a little? Tea should be ready by the time you're done." Bruce suggested.

Damian's scowl could have killed a cobra. "While I am planning on refreshing myself, father, it would be kind of you to cease directing me as if I am an imbecile," he stated, and for the second time in less than 10 minutes, Jason bit the inside of his cheek to stop a snicker.

Bruce, however, was not amused at Damian. "Well! That is not what a child should say to his father!" he admonished.

"Todd," Damian glared at Jason. "Did you not inform Mr Wayne here that I merely referred to him as 'father' due to common societal practices?" he asked with air quotes around the word 'father'.

"I have informed him that, Damian," Jason assured him.

"Do remind him on a daily basis that I am not obliged to remain here beyond what is demanded by his country's societal norms." Damian continued.

"I shall, Damian," Jason replied.

"Very well, I shall be in my quarters until tea time. You might consider feeding Grayson here, Todd," Damian said dismissively.

"I actually have some matters to discuss with you, Damian, if you don't mind. I think Grayson can fend for himself just fine," Jason told him.

"I don't mind. Let us, then." Damian said, leading the way back to his room.

Jason nodded politely to Bruce and motioned Dick to join him. "Mr Wayne, Grayson."

As they left Bruce, still standing in confusion - probably - Dick remarked, "ouch," softly.

"Go on and get your own cookies, Grayson," Jason remarked.

"I need to discuss something with you, too. You two, actually, somewhere safe." Dick said. Both Jason and Damian paused their steps. "Yeah, and we might need to call upon a certain bird for backup," Dick added, almost nonchalantly. It was not until then that Jason noticed the tenseness on his shoulders. He remembered that Dick, too, was trained to keep an eye out for danger.

"You go on ahead with Damian, I'll ask Alfred if he may have tea in his quarters." Jason decided. Damian nodded, realizing the urgency in Dick's posture, and stepped a little closer to Dick as Jason turned the other way.

Whatever it is Dick has to say, Jason could be certain now that besides himself, Dick would protect Damian fiercely. And/or protect other, possibly innocent people, from Damian's tempers.

He was just wondering why did it seem that Bruce Wayne was so intent on removing him.

And why Dr and Mrs Wayne would suddenly take a trip to Europe right after they were proverbially and literally freed from Bane.

Alfred, as usual, was in the kitchen preparing for tea time. In spite of being Americans, the Waynes seemed to like the habit of afternoon tea time.

Jason told Alfred of Damian's request, and Alfred nodded slowly. "Is Master Bruce still in the sun-room, then?" he asked.

"Last time I saw him, yeah."

"Ah, then... young Jason, may an old man request something from you and your vast knowledge of herbs?" Alfred's face was as impassive as ever when he said that, just a shade before he returned to his task of preparing some small sandwiches. But Jason was a little confused. Why would Alfred ask him for herbs? As far as Jason could tell, he was as healthy as... well, someone Jason's age, which has got to be at least a third of Alfred's; half at most. Jason didn't think that Alfred was any older than mid- to late-40s.

"Sure, how can I help?" he answered, anyway.

"Oh, I was wondering if there is any method you may suggest to... how do I put it... Chafe off surgical remains within oneself? I have had work done for my nose, you see, on a whim as a young lad; and I do not believe it looks becoming on me as I age. I feel as if it makes me look like another person is inhabiting my body, as Master Bruce was wont to say."

Jason blinked, and partially wished Dick was there to confirm his thoughts. In spite of being the exact same height as Jason, Alfred was bowing his head a little as he spoke; and Jason knew that there was a surveillance camera that would be able to record their conversation in the kitchen. His shoulders were tenser than the task of cutting bread would have required.

"Well, wow... okay. I'll need to actually search my books. You know some of the ladies back then would apply something to their skin for scars or bruises. But I'm not sure if it'll work on surgical stuff. I'll let you know?" Jason replied carefully.

"Thank you, Jason, for considering. While it shames me for being vain, it is... rather crucial." Alfred smiled at him.

"No problem, Alf," Jason patted him on the shoulder and made his way back to Damian's room - where each and every surveillance device has been disabled and/or misdirected by the combination of Tim, Barbara, and Damian's own skills.

Once Jason walked in and closed the doors of Damian's room behind him, he was greeted by both Damian and Dick's voices.

"That man is not my father, Todd! I believe my grandparents may still be in danger!" Damian exclaimed as Dick stormed over and announced 'There was an increase of drone activities outside, that's why I brought Damian in!' - followed by Damian and Dick glaring at each other, and Damian said, "Todd, we might need to acquire some new exit strategy!" at the same time as Dick saying, 'I've sent a text to Tim, but he hasn't answered. I've texted Babs, though!'

Jason cringed at them. "Whoa! Hold up! If this is how you two kids report, nobody would need surveillance equipment to hear you from Gotham Harbor!" he snarled. The two promptly stopped and glared at each other again, as if they both were hoping to have Superman's laser vision or something. "Okay, I've heard you both, and I'm upping the ante. Alfred just asked me practically for a method to dissolve foreign objects inside someone's body and allude that someone in the house is not who they seemed. And said someone might be Bruce."

Damian threw his fist to the air, stating, "I knew it!"

Dick's eyes were wide as saucers. "Okay... I would... I've wanted to say the same thing since we got in. But I was kinda scared I might be wrong. What makes you sure?"

"Alfred referred to Bruce in the past tense when talking to me," Jason said. "You? --wait, no, Damian first."

"He looked and behaved differently than the videos mother had shown me," Damian replied.

"I second Damian on this. Well, dude... we need to communicate better, don't we?" Dick said, telling the last bit toward Damian. "I've only met him once, way back when-- when my parents were... you know. But like I've told you, I remember everything from that day as if it has just happened. I remember Bruce Wayne was there with a blonde girl wearing chinchilla fur, a 50s hairdo, and an actual pearl pin. But when my parents... right after, I saw him directing traffic of people out of the tent calmly. His presence then was literally calming, like, everyone was looking at him for direction. This Bruce... generally, looked too nervous on everything; if that makes sense."

Jason thought a moment. Dick was really good at reading people's body language - even the most stoic Alfred. Before Bane was removed, Dick's assessment of Alfred was that he was uncomfortable with Bane, yet very welcoming of Damian. Thus his immediate trust in Alfred. However, since Bane was arrested and proven to not have been a Wayne; Jason hasn't got the chance to ask Dick to re-assess Alfred.

"Okay, I'll retrieve the video footage of your dad from 10 years ago from the League's servers. We'll cross-check. We'll tell the Birds once we're sure, yeah?" Jason suggested.

"Agreed," Damian nodded slowly.

"I'll have Tim keeping an eye on the Doc and Missus while we're at it, though. I mean, you know, precautions and all." Dick suggested.

"Okay, call Tim. If he doesn't answer, call Babs or his mom. I'd like this whole thing settled quickly before Bruce can do anything to harm Damian." Jason huffed a breath slowly, wondering what the hell is it with the Waynes that seemed to run on endless conspiracy theories, anyway.

[alexiessan]

The brother you never asked for - One Shot

AO3

@neakco​ asked: "I saw an ask for prompts so I would like to request a sibling Jasonette where Jason is in Paris trying to win a bet with Dick over who can find the best pastries, which is how he finds/meets Marinette. Everything else is open to the freedom of your imagination."

Here is Jasonette Siblings :) 

@justafanwarrior​ @animegirlweeb​

Why was Jason running in the streets of Paris at seven in the evening again?

Ah, right. To win a bet against Dick.

The two oldest adopted children of Bruce Wayne had agreed to accompany their father on a business trip to the French capital. Damian still had school to attend and Tim was to manage the company while the CEO was away.

He didn’t really need any of his children to accompany him, but who would say no to a trip to Paris?

Bruce had a lot of meetings planned for the two weeks trip, and it took only two days for the two men to get bored. Paris wasn’t new for them and they’ve already seen all the touristic spots.

And so, they were just watching some movie in Richard’s hotel room when he had a craving for pastries.

“Let’s go to Ladurée! They have awesome macarons!” the oldest exclaimed, his mouth already watering at the thought of chocolate macaron.

Jason frowned. “Eh, really? It’s overpriced and overrated there.”

“But they are the best I’ve ever had.”

“That’s because you didn’t try to find the very best. It’s France, there are bakeries in almost every street. There must be one that makes better pastries than Ladurée.”

La maison Ladurée was a famous bakery in Paris, known for its macarons. Every tourist always ended up going there at one point or another during their stay in Paris.

While their macarons were good, it was too much of a tourist spot for Jason’s taste. There probably was a bakery out there that sold better macarons than the famous Maison Ladurée.

Urgh. Even the name sounded made him want to cringe. Snobbish much, huh?

“Then, let’s find it,” said Dick with a serious voice.

Jason looked away from the TV to face his brother. “Huh?”

Richard rolled his eyes. “Get your ass up this couch and let’s go find the best bakery in Paris!”

The second oldest of the Wayne siblings raised an eyebrow. “Do you realize how many bakeries there are in just Paris? We can’t possibly try them all.”

“You’re right. That’s why,” Dick paused, showing Jason his smartphone, “I’ve researched the best bakeries of Paris. I found two lists with a top ten of the best bakeries of Paris, and they don’t have one in common with the other!” he grinned, “so, I suggest we each take a list and try them all, and come back with a box of macarons from the one we thought was best!”

Jason looked at the list. If he tried them all and figured that the best one was one of the first he tried, it would mean going back there to buy a full box of macarons. It would be annoying to go back there again, but doable.

“What does the winner win?” he finally asked.

“Eh… Bragging rights?” at Jason’s expression, he tried again. “We’ll figure it out later.”

“Right. Then, may the best man win.”

They shook hands and were off in a matter of seconds.

This is how Jason found himself in front of the last bakery of the list — the one ranked second in the list, but it was the one the farthest from their hotel, and thus, the last one he tried — hoping it was closed yet. He really hoped this one would be the best because he wouldn’t have the time to go back to one of the other bakeries before closing time.

When he opened the door, he was met with a lot of pink. It was a cute and cozy bakery, making you want to find a seat, drink hot chocolate, and read next to the window while it was raining outside.

At the desk was a teenage girl around Damian’s age — sixteen, seventeen-year-old top — who looked visibly upset over something on her phone. When she heard him enter, she put the phone away, blinked several times to get rid of the tears that had gathered in her eyes, and smiled at him.

“Welcome to Tom et Sabine boulangerie pâtisserie! How can I help you?” she greeted him in French.

Jason made his way to the counter, looking over the different pastries. He glanced at the girl, patiently waiting for his order. She had black hair and blue eyes, half French and half Asian he guessed. She had a smile on her face, and not just a customer one, giving that she was visibly upset when he arrived, but a genuine one.

It made him want to ask her if he had to go and threaten someone, but he didn’t know the girl, and she didn’t know him, and what right did he have to ask?

“I’ll have a chocolate macaron, please,” he answered in French but with a heavy American accent.

She noticed and switched in English, which he was grateful for. He could speak French, but since he didn’t have the opportunity to practice it often, he was a bit rusty in the language.

“Of course, a big one or a small one?”

“A small one, please.”

She put the small macaron on a towel with a clamp and put it on the counter. “It will be one euro, please!”

He thanked her while paying and wasted no time in eating the small treat. The teen girl laughed when she saw him eat it in one bite.

“You know what?” he began after swallowing, deciding that this was the best one he had in his search. “I’ll take a whole box of these. I’ll even take two big ones!”

“Alright! That will be nine euros and fifty cents, please!” she said with a smile before preparing his order.

“Thanks again!” he said while handing her the money. “If the other pastries are as good as the macarons, you’ll see me again.”

She laughed. “I’m not exactly impartial, but the pastries are really, really good! So I guess I’ll see you again.”

He barked a laugh. “You can bet on it then!”

“Have a good night, sir!”

“Thanks!”

When he got back to the hotel room, Dick was already there with his own box of macarons, and they didn’t waist one more second before tasting the other’s finding.

Jason won, of course, and demanded fifty bucks as his reward.

And wasn’t it good to win a bet against his brother.

Just like he said he would, Jason came back to the bakery, with Dick with him. They tried all sorts of pastries, and even some quiches for lunch and everything was delicious. Dick made sure to note the name of the bakery somewhere on his phone so they could come back the next time they would come to Paris.

The teenage girl was still there, managing the desk and talking with the two of them when they stayed a bit longer to enjoy their food.

They learned that her name was Marinette and that she was seventeen — making her Damian’s age, just as Jason thought — and that she was the daughter of the owner. Since it was summer vacations, she helped her parents since they had more clients than ever thanks to tourism.

They learned that she was a fashion designer and that she learned English because of it. Since she wanted to start her own business one day, someone recommended that she learn English if she wanted it to be international. Speaking only one language wouldn’t do well, she explained.

While she was still in school, she had a small customer base already and did everything that needed to be done for it to be legal, and thus, was a freelance in fashion design. She was still in high school, entering her last year in September. She even expressed her desire to go to University in America, in a double major — fashion and business.

They visited the bakery every day for a week, learning to know each other a bit, but never once did she tell them anything that was upsetting her.

And Jason couldn’t help but wonder what could bring such a cheerful and positive girl like Marinette so close to tears.

It was on their last week in Paris that Jason found out.

He was on his way to the bakery to get his daily dose of pastries when he saw Marinette sitting on a bench in the park near her family’s business and home.

And she was crying.

He didn’t think about it as he made his way to Marinette and sat next to her.

“So, tell me, whose butt do I need to kick?”

She almost jumped, not having noticed him.

“God,” she breathed, “you scared me, don’t do that again.”

“My bad,” he apologized. “But tell me, what’s wrong?”

She let out a joyless laugh. “It’s okay, I don’t want to burden you with my teenage drama.”

He playfully elbowed her. “Now, now. I’ve been a teen too, you know. And I know all about teenage drama. And I know that it’s not just nothing to you, right now. Maybe, later on, you’ll think so, but it matters to you now, so it’s important, you understand?” she nodded. “Just because you’re a teenager, it doesn’t mean your problems are meaningless, alright? I know adults tend to downplay teenager’s problem, but not me.” he ruffled her hair. “Now, tell everything to your big brother.”

She laughed and shoved him playfully. “You’re not my brother!”

“Well, now I am! I’m the brother you never asked for but got anyway. Deal with it.”

She laughed again, and he felt like he succeeded a little in cheering her up. “Alright, ‘big brother’, I’ll talk.”

She took a deep breath before facing him.

“It’s my boyfriend. He canceled on me. Again.” she laughed. “I know I shouldn’t be upset to be stood up, and I wasn’t the first time. Or the second. Or the third. But I’ve lost count of the times he ditched me for his friends, or for an event that just happened. And I tried to be understanding at first. It’s just… I’m doing everything to make our relationship work. I plan dates, even double dates because I know how much he loves his friends — our friends. But it feels like it’s one sided,” she paused, taking another deep breath. “But I haven’t properly talked to him in months because he keeps standing me up. I just… Does he want to break up with me? Is that what’s he’s trying to do, but is too much of a coward to do it properly? I… I guess I’m just realizing now that we haven’t be fine for months now.”

Jason sighed. “I can’t tell you what he’s thinking, and what is his reasoning behind his behavior because I don’t know him, but I’ll tell you this: it takes all the people involved in a relationship for it to work. If the other doesn’t put any work in it, it can’t work. It can be fixed, however, but you already tried, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

“Then, since you already try to fix your relationship, you have to ask yourself this question: are you happy with him?”

Tears gathered again in her eyes and she shook her head. “No… No, Jason, I’m not happy anymore.”

He opened his arms, inviting her in a hug, and she immediately threw herself in her arms.

“Then, I think you know what to do.”

They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Marinette stopped crying.

“I’m sorry, I barely know you and I just dumped all my problems on you.”

“Hey, when I said that I was now your brother, I meant it. I take my duties as a big brother very seriously.”

The fashion designer laughed. “What, you just picked people on the street and claimed they are now your sibling or something?”

“No, you’re just special.”

She laughed. “I’m nothing special, but thank you. For listening to me and offering me friendship. I really appreciate it.”

He patted her hair. “Anytime, chouquette.”

They exchanged numbers before parting ways, this time without any pastries with him.

The next morning, Jason received a text from Marinette, stating that she broke up with her boyfriend. He asked for details, and she explained that he has been oblivious to it all and didn’t understand why she was breaking up with him. She said that she gave up on explaining anything and that they were just over.

He and Dick spent the last week at the bakery, trying to cheer Marinette up, which was not as hard as he expected it to be. While Marinette was sad that her relationship was over, she was also relieved. She had been hurt too much, and it was a good thing that she wouldn’t be hurting anymore.

Their two weeks stay unfortunately came to an end, and it was time to say goodbye to Marinette.

“Say, what do you think about going to Gotham for university,” he asked her with a grin. “We could see each other much more then.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right. Going to the most dangerous city in America. No thanks, I think I’ll pass.”

He pouted. “But I would protect you.”

She laughed. “I have no doubt you would, but I think I’ll go to New York. I have an internship offer there than I can do alongside my studies,” she paused. “But hey, Gotham and New York are pretty close, no? We can still see each other.”

“One of my brothers is actually going to university in New York too next year! I’ll tell him to look after you!”

“What?! Come on Jason, I don’t need anyone looking after me!”

“Tutututu! Let your big brother handle it!”

“But you’re not my brother!”

[batboyimagines]

Cold-Blooded [Damian Wayne x Male Reader]

Your Dad and your Ma’s relationship is... rocky to say the least. They were never actually together, no marriage or anything. It was just one night of bad decisions that made you.

So your birth wasn’t well planned. You think the reason your ma even kept you was because she was lonely. She’s raised you to the best her ability for they past fourteen years but it was only recently your dad found out. Now they have joint custody.

See, all of that isn’t normal per say, but it’s not bizarre or anything. Just two inexperienced, lonely people screwing up in more ways than one to make a whole nother screw up. However, your parents aren’t exactly average. One’s not even human. Anymore.

Medusa and John Constantine. By the gods, that’s probably the worst match imaginable. Moms great and all, you really do love her, but she’s a little crazy. Being exiled on an island all alone does that to you. And Constantine’s just... a mess. Not even a hot one.

Even so, you don’t mind being pawned between the two. They’re both great in their own ways and you appreciate the both of them. Right now you’re hanging out at your dad's house. Though it feels more like hanging out with an awkward uncle than a dad.

It’s nearing about 8:00 in the morning, not that you know that. You’re asleep on the couch, gazing blankly at the ceiling. You forgot to close your eyes while you sleep again. It’s sort of creepy.

A sudden pounding on the door startles you up, breaking the staring contest you were having with the ceiling. A contest which you totally won. You blink dazedly and the pounding starts up again.

Mournfully slipping out from under the soft, warm stack of blankets you slept under, you lumber towards the door. You squint through the peephole.

Through the peephole you see a warped view of six costumes lunatics of all sizes. You lean back from the door and let yourself have a begrudged yawn. Gods, it’s way too early for this. Dad’s still asleep even with all the racket.

The littlest lunatic in the hood pounds the door hard enough for it to shake in its frame and you decide you’ve had enough. You don’t bother with the chain latch and just open the door a crack.

“Do you know how early it is?” You groan. The little lunatic, who is actually around the same height as you, scoffs.

“It’s eight pm. A normal person would be awake and ready for the day by now.”

“Well, I don’t know how you people are up then because anyone who dresses like that isn’t normal.” The green guy snorts.

“Listen, we’re sorry to wake you, but is this the residency of John Constantine?” The guy in the black leotard asks.

“... no, why?” You ask suspiciously.

“We are the Teen Titans and we are in need of magical assistance.” The really tall, really exposed, redhead says. “We require his assistance, on behalf of the justice league.” You tense a bit at that.

Okay, you don’t hold the things that the gods did to your mom against those two members of the justice league, Aquaman and Wonder Woman. They seem like nice folks who really do want to do good and not for the selfish, vain reasons gods usually do, but…

They got their abilities from the same gods who really, really messed your mom up for no good reason. So call you petty, but you don’t want to associate with them.

“Sorry, he’s not here.” You say attempting to close the door on them. The hooded lunatic jams the door with his hand.

“This is a matter of utmost importance, you will take us to Constantine.” He demands. You scowl at him and try to shut the door on his fingers.

“Screw off weirdo, he’s not here!”

“He is, you are lying!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am NOT!”

“Are TOO!”

“Christ on a cracker, what the bloody hell is going on?!” Your dad shouts, slamming the door shut, fully unlocking it and swinging it back open. Looks like the racket finally got him up. He sags at the sight of the troupe of crazies. “The hell do you people want?”

“We need your help.” Leotard man says.

“Of course you do. With what, I mean?”

“My father, Trigon, has possessed the justice league and we need a way to stop him.” The girl in purple replies. Your dad tenses.

“Trigon, eh? Sounds like a piece of work.” He says. You pretend to cough.

“Says the piece of work.” You tease under your breath because what’s even the point of a dad if you can’t make jabs at his life choices? He gives you a look and you just grin up at him.

“Why should I help you? The kind of magic that I’d have to use against that guy is expensive and tricky. I’m not gonna do it outta’ the good of my heart.”

“Because if you don’t help us, he could destroy the world.” Leotard says.

“Of course he could.” Dad breathes out as he sags against the door frame. You pat his arm. He looks at you and you give him an awkward smile. It seems to help him to a decision. He straightens up. “Well, I guess I don’t want the world to end. I need somewhere for this one to grow up.” He pats your head affectionately.

“Thanks.” You say, a bit embarrassed. Half because that’s the sappiest thing he’s ever said to you and half because, well, it’s nice to know you mean something to him. Even if he didn’t know that you existed until a few months ago.

“Well, come on in then.” He says turning from the doorway and into the apartment. The troupe of crazy people that nearly just broke into your house follow. You flounder for a moment.

“Wait, seriously? We’re just gonna let some random strangers, who nearly just broke in our house, inside just like that?” Your dad looks a bit guiltily at you. 

“Sorry bud, but this happens a lot more than I’d like.” He raises his hand hesitantly and gently lays it on your shoulder. “You can go back to your mother while I deal with this, if you’d like.”

“No, no it’s okay,” You quickly reassure, “it’s not bad it’s just… kinda weird. You know it’s weird right?” He snorts.

“Of course I do, but to be honest it’s almost normal for my line of work.”

“You should get into a different line of work then.”

“You know, I probably should.” 

Leotard man clears his throat- you know what? You want to know their names before they commandeer any more of your father-son bonding time. “By the way, what are your names? I feel I should know them before we do anything else.”

“Oh! My apologies,” Redhead replies, “I am Koriand’r, of Tamaran. And this is Blue Beetle, Beast boy, Raven, Nightwing, and Robin. We are the Teen Titans.”

“No offense, but you look more young adult than teenager?” She smiles sheepishly.

“Well, I was part of the original titans. I am now the leader.”

“Oh, okay, makes sense.”

“Alright,” your dad cuts in, “so what’s your plan for Trigon? What exactly do you want from me?” He and the Teen Titans begin to plan. You stick around for a bit, to get an idea of what your dad does. It’s not very interesting. So ten minutes into planning, you slip away to make breakfast.

Now, your dad is a mess. Not kind of a mess, a straight up mess. The kitchen is almost a reflection of your father. It’s a huge mess. There’s takeout boxes and dirty dishes strewn across every counter, no room for literally anything there is so much garbage. And this is only a few weeks worth of build up. Dad actually cleaned up before you arrived. 

Before you can even begin cooking you have to clean off the counters for some space. You’re trying to balance takeout boxes on top of the overflowing garbage can when a voice sounds from the doorway.

“This place is repulsive.” 

“HUAUGH FUCK!” You whip around flinging the takeout boxes across the room. Hooded lunatic, uh Robin you think, dodges them expertly. He seems a little surprised. You clutch at your chest, “Jesus, Christ man!”

“Apologies, I… did not mean to startle you.” He raises his hands a bit, as if calming a rapid animal. 

“Apology accepted.” You calm your rapid heart. Your freak out seems to have spooked any animosity Robin had earlier. The two of you stand around awkwardly. He’s a stranger in your house and he’s in a strangers house, which does not make for easy conversational partners. He looks around, avoiding your gaze. His eye catches on a painting on the wall.

“That is… an interesting picture.” He tries.

“Uh yeah, that’s actually a picture of my mom.” You say, playing with your hands.

“That is Medusa.”

“Yeah, she’s my mom.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I see.”

“She doesn’t actually look like that, that painting’s really inaccurate.”

“Why does your father keep it up?”

“I dunno,” You’d feel weird cooking with him watching you, so you make your way past Robin and into the dining room, “I think either pettiness or affection.”

“Pettiness?” He asks following you.

“Yeah, I mean, they aren’t together? I think they were at least acquaintances before they, uh, ‘conceived’ me. But they don’t seem to like each other very much nowadays.” You say, pulling a chair out from the table. You push the one across from you out with your bare foot and gesture towards it. Robin hesitates a moment, but decides to sit down. “What about your parents? They like each other any more than mine do?”

“No,” He snorts, “I think they like each other much less.”

“Oh.”

The conversation stalls. You shift uncomfortably. Robin stares a hole into the grimy table. 

“Why not?”

“Pardon?”

“Why don’t your parents like each other?” He seems to think over his answer. 

“They are on opposite sides of the law.” 

“Oh, that’s tough.”

“Yes.”

“There’s tons of couples on opposite sides of the law though.” 

“Not them. My father’s moral code cannot bend to suit my mother.”

“Ah, I see.” You lean across the table and pat his arm. He looks at it a bit suspiciously, you pull it back. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“No need to apologize, I’ve already come to terms with it.”

“Yeah, well, still sucks.” You say standing up. “I was gonna make food, wanna lend me a hand? I’m still new to cooking appliances. And electricity.”

“How are these things new to you?” He asks, even as he stands up to help anyway.

“Dude. I grew up on an island with no electricity or WiFi. All of this,” you gesture to the space around you, “is totally alien to me.”

“Ah, I see. Yes, I will assist you.”

“Thanks.”

He failed to mention that he has never used a toaster either. You both nearly burn down the apartment, had it not been your dad’s fire extinguisher.

TO BE CONTINUED

[qveenzie]

Taking Flight

Pairing: Damian/Jon Timeline: Teenage years Summary: While at his father’s engagement party, Damian indirectly helps Jon fly for the first time. 

Jon knew that this wasn't easy for Damian, considering his father was marrying someone other than his mother. Jon’s parents were completely different from Damian’s, so it was difficult to sympathize with him.

But, either way, he wanted to be there to comfort his best friend. Even if he was embarrassed.

Which probably didn’t explain why he was running an hour late. It wasn’t his fault though. When there’s someone that desperately needs the help of Superboy, he has to come through.

“You look fine, honey,” Lois assures as she and her son step out of the truck. He was checking himself out in the side mirror.

Jon looks up at his mother. “Thanks, mom,” he said as he adjusted his costume.

“She’s always right,” Clark says as he plants a kiss to the top of her head. “Now let’s get going.”

Inside the building mirrored a medieval ball. Everyone was dressed in their costumes and dancing with their partners to the music. To the side, there were tables loaded with food and others with chairs.

Lois and Clark were immediately greeted by Bruce and Selina. “I’m glad you made it,” Bruce welcomes as he places a hand on Clark’s shoulder.

“The best man is usually expected to be at the engagement party,” Clark responds as he pushes his glasses up. “I apologize for the late arrival, duty calls at the most random times.”

While they were conversing, Jon’s eyes frantically scans around the room in search of Damian, who didn’t seem to be anywhere in sight.

“Have you seen Damian?” Jon asks as soon as the adults leave room for him to speak.

“Actually, I haven’t seen him since the party started, Jonathan,” Bruce answers before taking a glance around the open room.

Jon frowns. “Thank you,” is all he says before leaving them to find Damian.

When he spots Damian’s brothers, he decides to ask them if they’ve seen him and they all give him the same answer; no. He doesn’t recognize anyone else so he doesn’t bother asking.

Eventually, he gives up and secretively uses his x-ray vision, and ends up finding who he knows is Damian, outside on the terrace.

The city is relatively quiet at this time of night, despite the traffic. The wind blows through Damian’s hair as he glances out up at the starry night sky.

Behind him, the door opens and he slowly turns his head around to see who it is. ”Kent,” the name hesitantly leaves his lips.

Jon slowly approaches him, the metal of his knight costume making a clunking noise as he took a step. Damian’s sitting on a bench in front of the garden of endless flowers.

“You look like a dork,” Damian comments simply and turns back around.

Jon lets out a short laugh as he stands beside the other boy. “Says the one in tights,” he retorts as he eyes Damian’s prince costume. He was even wearing a shiny crown. Bruce probably had picked it out for him, Jon assumes.

Damian hums in response and gazes up once again, his gloved hands placed neatly in his lap as he looks down at the ground.

Jon takes a deep breath and clears his throat before asking a question. “How’re you holding up?”

Damian’s eyes meet his gaze. “I’m fine,” he assures.

“Are you sure?” Jon asks, then adds, “I’m here if you need an ear to listen.”

Damian averts his gaze and looks up at the sky again, this time with a depressing look in his eyes. “It does not matter what I feel. What matters is my father is happy… even if it is not with my mother.”

This makes Jon frown. He’s not used to seeing this side of Damian. This is the first time Damian has opened up to him without having trouble expressing himself.

“I’m sure he cares about how you feel,” Jon says and hesitantly lays a hand on Damian’s shoulder to comfort him.

Damian glances at the hand on his shoulder and meets Jon’s gaze once again. Jon expects Damian to injure him in some way, but instead, Damian stands up to face him.

“Shouldn't you be out there having fun?” Damian asks and raises an eyebrow in question. 

Jon’s hand remains as his face turns a faint shade of pink. “I… don’t know how to dance,” he quietly admits, noting that the only songs being played were slow.

“You can pick up a tractor with a single finger, but don’t know how to partner dance?” Damian questions, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

Jon sheepishly looks away and begins to remove his hand before Damian reaches out and grabs it, placing it on his hip instead. He grabs the other one as well, putting it on the other side. “If I were taller than you, your hands would be on my shoulders, but due to my unfortunate arrangement of genes, I am not,” Damian explains as he looks up to meet Jon’s gaze and proceeds to place his hands on the taller boy's shoulder. “Like this.”

The sudden closeness makes Jon’s face flush. He could feel his own heart racing inside his chest and was afraid Damian would feel it.

Damian notices his unease and backs away a little. “I am making you uncomfortable,” he states.

Jon clears his throat. “No, I’m just... embarrassed,” he admits and lets out a sigh.

“Well… don’t be,” Damian assures as he inches closer yet again. “It’s easy. You basically just sway to the music.”

Before the other boy could mutter anything, Damian takes a small step and stands on Jon’s shoes, right before resting his head on the leather tunic of his chest and closing his eyes.

Jon glances down at Damian’s face, studying it. He’s never seen such a soft expression from him before. His long black eyelashes are still and his dark skin is illuminated by the moonlight.

When Jon pulls himself from his thoughts, he focuses on the music and slowly starts to dance along with it, pulling Damian with him. He had assumed Damian would lead, but he was wrong. After he realizes that Damian is comfortable, he slowly rests his chin on the shorter boy’s head and closes his eyes.

They stay like this for a while, swaying to the music until the song begins to come to an end. Damian opens his eyes and glances down, widening them as he realizes what’s going on. He doesn’t know when it happened, but Jon was currently floating a few inches off the ground in mid air. Neither one of them had even noticed until now.

“Jonathan…?” Damian speaks up, pulling Jon out of his thoughts. This results in them safely landing back on the ground.

Jon lifts his head up to look down at Damian, a puzzled expression on his face. “What’s wrong?” he asks. Damian rarely calls him by his first name, so it must be important.

“You… still can’t fly, right?” Damian questions, meeting his confused gaze.

Jon looks away shyly. “No. Not yet, anyways,” he answers and looks up at the sky. “Why do you ask?”

Damian takes a moment to respond. The corner of his mouth twitches as it forms into a smile and he finally answers.

“No reason.”

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 3

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

Disclaimer: Masterlist

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

The dinner was an interesting affair. Everyone was gathered around a large table that could easily fit several more people. Marinette was sitting between Damian and her mother; on the opposite, Tim, Stephanie, and Cass took the seats. She was glad that they were all people she knew well enough. It was overwhelming. Before, Christmas was always just her and her parents. Occasionally, Nona came too. And there was this one time when she was five when her great-uncle visited. This was much too crowded. 

Damian gently squeezed her hand, reassuring her that it was alright. She ate some, but the nerves made her lose appetite quickly. She was in Gotham. Celebrating Christmas with her husband’s family. Husband… She was going to have a panic attack. She wasn’t ready. 

“Habibti. It’s okay. Everyone here’s a friend.” Damian whispered into her ear, seeing she was spiraling. “Nobody is going to judge us on anything.”

“But I didn’t make any gifts for the Kents. And I didn’t know your eldest brother had a daughter! And I’m a total klutz. I will probably knock over the tree and it will fall and set the house on fire and you will end up homeless or someone will get hurt and then your family will hate me and the Kents will hate me and I…” she kept whispering faster and faster until she was finally starting to feel the need to breathe or pass out. The jury was still out. 

Seeing her daughter’s panic, Sabine also grabbed her hand and squeezed it lightly. “Honey, let’s go get some fresh air.” She said loud enough for people close to them to hear before leading Marinette outside. Nobody batted an eye when the pair passed them. 

Once the two were in the back garden, Mari felt her legs give up under her and if not for her mother, she would have probably collapsed. The woman held her tight and led the girl toward the bench, which was luckily not covered in snow. 

“I’m so sorry, Maman. I don’t know… I just felt so overwhelmed. There were all these people and I was really meeting my husband’s family and friends for the first time and I guess I was not prepared for all this…” She was speaking fast. 

“Don’t worry sweetie. I understand. Did I tell you how, when I met your Nona for the first time, I accidentally flipped her over my shoulder and pinned her to the ground?” Sabine asked, smiling understandingly at her daughter. 

“No! Really?”

“Yes. Well, in my defense, she surprised me with a gun that shot candies.” 

Marinette couldn’t help but giggle at that. It did seem like something her Mémé would do. 

“She was shocked at first and I was afraid I hurt her. Instead, after that, she decided that I was apparently worthy of dating her boy and gave us her approval.” 

“So… the moral of this story is that I should flip Talia over for them to accept me?” Mari asked with a cheeky grin. 

“That too, sweetie. I can even lend you something from my bag if you want a more… permanent effect.” 

“Maman!” 

“Fine…” Sabine grumbled goodheartedly. “You don’t need to worry about fitting in or how they will perceive you. I’ve seen how that boy looks at you and I approve.” She smiled. “That’s all that should matter.”

“Thank you maman. I’m glad you’re here.” She hugged her mother as the two sat together on the bench, enjoying the evening chill until the cold became irritating instead of refreshing.

-------

When the two returned, the dinner was nearing the end. Marinette noted seven burning holes on the ceiling but didn’t comment. There was also a plate on fire next to Jason that he seemed adamant not to acknowledge. Also, Mar’i and Jon were levitating above the table and playing rock paper scissors, except they used the props. Silently, Marinette walked to take a seat next to Damian. Her mother went over to talk a bit with Bruce about something.

“Um… Why is Jason’s plate on fire?” She asked, very much confused. 

“Tt. He wanted a souffle on fire.” 

“We’re already at desserts?” The girl asked, surprised. In the corner of her eye, she saw Cass staring at Tim and Stephanie with a strange gaze. It wasn’t hostile, but rather, she couldn’t really name the emotions present. 

“Yes. I saved you some maracons. You love the strawberry ones, right?”

“You made me prefer lemon ones.” She smiled. “The subtle sourness really brings out the sweetness.” 

“Of course it does Angel.” He smiled. “Sadly, we sit next to Brown, who will devour anything with sugar in it.”

A devious grin appeared on Mari’s face. “Really now?” She reached over into her purse to pull a small box where she kept the power-up cookies for her Kwami. “Tikki… will you mind if I give her a burnt-red one? You know which…”

For a moment, it looked like the Kwami wanted to protest, but then the small goddess noticed the plate of cookies was empty. “Go for it, Marinette. It won’t hurt her.”

“Stephanie! I’ve got a spare macaron I can share,” she smiled at the blonde girl. 

“Gimme!” She almost leaped like a gremlin, her eyes in a slight daze.

“Uh-oh. She is experiencing a sugar rush. I think she ate the whole plate herself,” Tim spoke from his seat, eyes slightly worried. 

Mari handed over the macaron and watched as Steph ate it. It took only a moment for her face to flush red and tears to appear in her eyes. “Water!” She said with a hoarse throat. Tim handed her a glass, but when she downed it, the burning only increased.

“Oh no! I forgot to warn you! It was made with ground hot pepper instead of flour… silly me!” Mari said, keeping the cute smile on. “I would advise milk.”

When Stephanie ran to the kitchen, followed by Tim laughing and Cass and Damian smiling, the older boy turned to Marinette. “You are devious.” 

“She shouldn’t have eaten so many cookies,” the girl shrugged. After that, she actually started to enjoy the evening. It might have started a prank war later on, but for now, she was safe. 

---------

After dinner, the crowd moved to a large living room where adults took seats on the couches or chairs while most kids and teens sat on the fluffy carpet. Alfred was walking around and handing the wine glasses to adults and hot chocolate to the youngsters. Clark opted for hot chocolate as well, which earned him a round of teasing. 

Since everyone was staying the night, there was no need for designated drivers. When Tim and Stephanie tried to get their hands on alcohol, Alfred slapped their hands. More laughter followed. 

Marinette sat there, cuddled into one armchair with Damian, observing everything and looking cute. 

“...I’m just saying, Bruce. You could smile a bit more in costume too. It wouldn’t kill you.” Clark finished a short speech.

“Work and homelife should stay separate,” Tim spoke up from his spot on the floor.

“Which doesn’t stop you from smiling. You’re not a Buckingham Palace guard.” Lois pointed out.

“To be frank, you could smile a bit more often, B.” Dick supported the enemy.

“It would be bad for the image,” Bruce mumbled. “If anyone saw Batman smile, it would ruin my years of hard work.”

“Diana disagrees.” Kor’i smiled. “She actually said once that ‘a smiling bat looks pretty handsome’.”

“I’ve seen a smiling bat!” Mar’i shouted from her spot on Jon’s knees, the two of them acting like nice siblings. It secretly irked Damian, but he wouldn’t ever voice that thought. “There was a cartoon!” 

“That’s nice, sweetie.” Sabine couldn’t help but rub it into Bruce some more. “Did he also have a cape, like Bruce?”

“Yes! And he walked on two legs!” 

“See? I think your image doesn’t need to suffer.” Tom joined his wife. His English wasn’t that good, but he could get by. “Maybe you could get a cartoon about Batman? Ladybug had her own movie and a song dedicated to her.” 

“Ladybug?” Jonathan asked. Marinette immediately tensed at the mention of her superhero name. She definitely did not want to reveal herself to everyone here. It’s not that she didn’t trust any of them, since all of them knew about Batman and co., but she felt uneasy. The fewer people knew, the better. 

“Parisian superheroine.” Sabine clarified.

“We sure didn’t hear about her back in Smallville.” Martha insisted, smiling. “Then again, we don’t really keep with the news from the old world.”

“There was this terrorist in Paris that used magic to turn people into temporary villains. He was finally defeated recently. I think you’ve seen all the ladybug decorations.” Tim explained in broad terms. 

“Ah! Right. I was wondering about the ladybugs…” 

Damian noted that his beloved was tense and decided that it was a moment good as any other to spring up the surprise. He shifted slightly, signaling that he wanted to get up. Marinette, who was still holding her cup, immediately sprung onto her feet. She thought he maybe wanted to leave somewhere or speak with his father alone. 

Instead, Damian hit the side of his hot chocolate cup with a spoon three times, gathering everyone’s attention. 

“Tt. I wanted to say a few words. This will be important so shut up you lot.” He cleared his throat before continuing in a mostly emotionless voice that most people associated with his ‘Ice Prince’ persona. “Marinette. When I first met you, it was not from our own free will. The bitch that is my mother forced our hand and tied us together. But we got to know each other out of our own free will. Nobody forced me…” His head snapped toward Dick. “Tt. Don’t you dare, Grayson.” Seeing his brother raise his hands in a surrender gesture, he carried on. “Nobody forced me to come to Paris. Definitely, nobody forced you to actually accept my courting. To this day, I am left wondering why an Angel as you would actually agree to go out with me, but here we are.”

The people watched with rapt attention. Marinette just stood there, unable to voice a coherent thought. She had no idea what was happening, but a deep red blush had made its way onto her face when he praised her. 

“You were so full of passion and joy and it reminded me a bit of Jon, but without the irritating factors.” 

“Hey!” The boy protested. A murderous glare from Damian shut him up quickly. 

“As I was saying, you were perfect in my eyes. I was taken away by your kindness. There are no words to describe my feelings.” His tone was still emotionless and monotonous, but Marinette could see that he was doing his best to actually see this through. “I can say without a doubt that I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

All air was suddenly sucked from Mari’s lungs when he fell on one knee and pulled out a small black box. Inside was probably the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. There were three flowers on a golden band. In the center of each, there was a shining diamond, surrounded by smaller stones. The petals were made from pink stones that she suspected were also diamonds. Were there even pink diamonds? All in all, it looked beyond words. 

“Will you do me that honor and become my wife?” When he finally asked, she could feel the world spinning. This was… this was better than in any of her daydreams. And not only because instead of Adrien there was Damian. 

The words died in her throat. She had to sit down to not faint. “Yes…” She whispered weakly, so only Damian could hear. The boy smiled brightly (a rare sight to be sure) and put the ring on her finger. 

Her gaze fell on the band he had on his own hand. It was silver with a large black stone in the center of the band, surrounded by eight diamonds. The Black Cat Miraculous she realized. 

An applaud arose from several places in the room, but some of the guests were confused. 

“Aren’t you two too young to get married?” Johnathan asked, scratching his head. 

“Tt. Technically, we are already married where I come from. This is for my wife’s content and nothing else.”

“Married?!” The old farmer asked, scandalized. 

“Tt. That’s what I said. Now can someone please get my Angel some water? I think she is about to faint.” 

“Um… I would also be very interested in the story…” Clark joined his father. He wasn’t exactly that much scandalized, but confusion was clear on his face. 

“I promise I will explain everything. I think we should give the two some breathing space…” Bruce proposed hesitantly. 

“I will help get Mari to her room. I think she has had enough excitement for today,” Tom offered.

“I am also turning in for the night, Father. I trust that between you and Miss Cheng they will get a full story. Sans the private parts of course.” He glared at him. 

“I will make sure of that.” Sabine quickly cut any protests.

“Good. Good night everyone. And Merry Christmas or whatever.” With that, he left, wanting to catch up with Tom and Marinette.

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

Masterlist // Next

[itsmeevie01]

Bio!Dad Bruce Day 11-The (Vigilante) Talk

Over Thanksgiving, Marinette has happily settling into her room at Wayne Manor. Alfred had welcomed her with a smile and Tim had wrapped her into a hug. Dick had talked excitably at her and Bruce had called a welcome as he made his way in form work. The family didn’t realize how much noise they were making until a small boy stormed down the stairs. His face was pulled into a scowl and he had a katana gripped tightly in his hand. When he came face to face with Marinette, the little boy snarled. She looked at the 10-year-old and smiled at him. “hi! You must be Damian! It’s nice to finally met you, brother.” The boy looked her over and turned away.

“tt” Although it wasn’t the overjoyed welcome that she hadn’t gotten from the others, the Parisian still felt like the greeting from the child was a complement.

“No. No way. The kid hates everyone! How did you get him to like you?” the shock in Tim’s voice made Marinette giggle.

“You know Tim, there is such a thing as kindness, you should try it sometime.”

“Little Bit!”

“Nettttttttttt you’re going to make Tim cry!”

“good, he deserves it! That little boy didn’t come here for you to go after him!”

“um…are we forgetting that the demon Brat tried to kill me? “Marinette smirked at Tim’s offense.

“nope!”

When the others had disappeared (gone on patrol) for the night, Bruce pulled his youngest daughter into one of the smaller sitting rooms. “Marinette, we need to talk.” The girl tensed before sighing.

“is…is this about the…altercation this spring?” Bruce nodded solemnly. He could see his daughter bracing herself. “are you mad?” the quiet question made him choke.

“Mad? Why would I be mad? Marinette, you handled everything so. Well. I just wanted to go over something that come into play with that…pastime.” His daughter furrowed her brow in confusion. “you and I are not the only vigilantes in the family. The others just haven’t told you yet.” Her face lit up in excitement.

“you mean…you mean my brother? And Cass? And Steph?” Bruce nodded at her questions.

“yes. The entire family. Here, in Gotham, we all abide by a code.” Understanding flooded her face.

“what is the code?” there were nerves in Marinette’s voice, but the way she took the information he was throwing at her made him proud. Taking a deep breath, Bruce broke down what he made all the rules he had his children abide by when in the field. Partway through, Tikki settled on Marinette’s shoulder to be a part of the conversation. When Bruce was done, he looked at the two, waiting for questions. The Kawmii hovered to be eye level with the teen and the duo started to talk back and forth in rapid fire. The language they were using was not one that he was familiar with, however.

Marinette glared at her Kawmii where she sat on her nose. “no.” the goddess of luck sighed but followed her chosen’s lead in switching out of the guardian language and back to English.

“Marinette. You don’t have to live by the archaic rules that Master Fu enforced. You saw what happened to him! I don’t want you to alone too!”

“Tikki, as much as I love you, and I love that you care, I am not alone. I have my dad; I have my parents in Paris. I have my brothers, my sisters, and my friends. Hell, even my partner has been fantastic! This needs to stay as. It. Is.” Bruce cleared his throat, cautious. He had seen what Marinette was capable of doing when she was truly angry, he didn’t need that rage leveled at him.

“Marinette is there more going on?” the little goddess of luck took advantage of his attention.

“Yes! Marinette is the Guardian now! She won’t tell Chat and she’s trying to do the work of an entire order by herself!” his daughter froze. His eyes narrowed as he studied her. Sure, Marinette had looked more tired, and yes, the girl had seemed more on edge. In his defense, Bruce mainly dealt with heroes and villain s outside of the office. The signs she had been showing were normal for that of a leader of a hero team when life went to the dogs. As he looked closer, Bruce noticed smaller signs that normally would go unnoticed. Tenser shoulders, paler skin. In fact, …

“Marinette…” Bruce paused. If he was right, then he knew how to help a little bit. If he was wrong, ALL of his daughters were going to eviscerate him. “Net, have you been eating? I know that when I start to get wrapped up in a case, I forget about basic needs. Sometimes I can loose entire weeks in the cave, subsisting on what Alfred brings me.” The 14-year-old had tensed, looking ready to defend herself or run if she had to. When Bruce mentioned his own habit, the teen had relaxed.

“I- yes. I do that too. Sometimes, Tikki isn’t enough to break me out of my thoughts. If there isn’t an emergency…” Bruce nodded in understanding.

“what does your partner do, when that happens?”

“wellllll”

“Marinette. For the love of all that is holy, please tell me that you know who each other are.” She flinched slightly at the change in his voice, before she fervently shook her head.

“the last guardian…he didn’t want us to know about each other. He didn’t want us to know more than strictly necessary, actually.” In that moment, Bruce saw red. Not only had this man thrown two teens into the fire and walked off, he had taken any form of support with him.

“Net, do you trust Chat Noir?” the noirette nodded.

“would you please take some advice?” she studied him before nodding hesitantly.

“when you two have the time, meet out of the suit. Know who each other are, and what each other’s downfalls are. Know how to help each other and how to keep the other in a space that is safe. It is so, so important to have someone to lean on. I have not only your siblings, but Alfred and the Justice League. I promise that if you need help, ever, I will do all I can to help. But you need someone on site. You need someone who understands nearby.”

“Is…is that why you have partners? So that if needed, you can step back?” the timidity in Marinette’s voice mad Bruce pause.

“Marinette are you present at every Alums attack? Even when your out of town?”

“I have to be. I…Ladybug is the only one who can fix everything afterwards. If I’m not there, people stay dead and business shut down and hospitals stay damaged and overflowing. If I’m not there, we don’t have any of our landmarks, any of the things that make Paris the city it is.”

“how are you getting back and forth? It takes too long to fly, right?” the younger vigilante hesitated and glanced at Tikki before pulling out a small jewelry box.

“I keep Kaalki's glasses with me. If there is an emergency, I teleport in, handle everything, and teleport out. I’ve been lucky so far, because no one has noticed.” There was a sound, as Bruce went to respond. When they turned, the two found Dick making his way into the kitchen, wearing a pair of joggers with his hair still wet. Marinette paused and put two and two together as she realized that her siblings must be getting back for the night.

When Dick stumbled into the kitchen at 3 am, he wasn’t expecting his little sister to still be up. Because of that, he had not fully changed back into his regular clothing. He had showered, of course. After flying over the city for hours though, the young adult was ready to go to bed. As he reached for a box of cereal and a bowl, he vaguely registered Bruce sitting at the counter. When Dick turned to see who was sitting besides his father figure, he froze. Sitting there looking completely unsurprised was- “Marinette.” He froze, he processed who was sitting at the counter, and exactly what time of night it was. “I. Um. Well…hi?” the sheepishness in his voice was clear. The younger noirette simply shook her head.

“early morning snack? I hadn’t realized how late dad and I had stayed up talking. I should probably head to bed so I can function in a few hours.” As the girl hopped up, Dick realized that Bruce looked…upset. Was…was Marinette using his interruption to get out of whatever conversation they had been having? If the girl’s blinding smile and small wave was anything to go by, the answer was most likely yes.

When Marinette joined the family the next morning at breakfast, her father raised an eyebrow at her from farther down the table. “did you sleep well after our unfinished conversation last night, Marinette?” Dick swung his gaze to look at her.

“so, I did interrupt something last night!” the guilty look Marinette flashed in his direction made him scoff. “sneak.”

“but I’m still your favorite, right?” he paused, considering her statement.

“you, missy, are on probation.” They laughed, before Bruce cleared his throat.

“After breakfast, you are coming to the office with me. We can talk on the way there. There is more to go over from last night.” The teen huffed and slumped into her chair but nodded all the same.

When the two were in the car, Marinette stared out the window. “what else is there to go over, dad?” the dejectedness in her tone made Bruce sigh.

“Marinette, hey,” he nudged her to get the girl to look over at him. “you aren’t in trouble. I just want to make sure that you are safe. I know exactly how hard this life is and I know how dangerous it is. I want to make sure that you are taken care of if anything happens.”

“I…I don’t know how to approach the idea of knowing who may partner is. We’ve lived in secret for so long, it’s hard to imagine a place where I can go to him outside of the suit. Or! What if he doesn’t like me without a mask on? I don’t want to hate him or have trouble working with him if I know him in real life and we don’t get along.” Bruce stayed silent, letting his daughter let her fears show through. Sometimes he forgot that the girl was nervous. She was always so confidant around him, that he forgot that she had a tendency to overthink.

“start slow. Explain to him that you met an older vigilante over some travels, and that you talked through some of your fears with them. Suggest meeting somewhere outside of the city to talk, and work form there. Find a place, together, where you can go and work on tracking down Hawkmoth. A base of sorts. Once you have the base work between yourself and your partner, ill send one of your brothers. I’ll send them under the guise of forming bonds with Ladybug and Chat Noir. With a man on the ground, I can help you in anyway you need. And,” here, Bruce shot her a small smile. “this way I wont be taking over. The Justice League isn’t taking over either.” Marinette hesitated, before nodding.

“I…I like that”

since i am a compleate chaotic mess, i decided to twist this topic a lil. that’ll probably happen tomorrow, too. that is, unless i decide to just use an alternate one. idk man, i have no plans at this point. everyhting is up to date on my AO3 account, wiht is under the same username, if you want to manuver over there, lol. ill add a link in the masterlist soon!

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Always By Your Side

Read here on AO3!

Summary: 

The kid looks horrible, full offense. Tim is wearing one of Dick’s old Hudson University sweatshirts which just about swallows him, hanging a full inch over where his fingertips end. His hair is tied up in the messiest bun Jason has ever seen, and there’s a purple welt on his chin big enough that a helicopter could use it for a landing pad. His lip is swollen, blood still crusted over where Tim’s teeth must have torn it open on impact. Big yikes.

“If you’re here to raid my fridge, then you already know it’s bad pickings. I haven’t been shopping in weeks.”

“That’s not why I’m here, actually.” Not the only reason, at least. Multitasking is key when you’re a semi-contract killer who needs Sundays free for tea time with Alfred.

(Disclaimer: THIS IS THE ONLY BAD PARENT!BRUCE FIC I WILL EVER WRITE OKAY I SWEAR I ALWAYS AVOID THOSE KINDS OF FICS BUT I’M SALTY THAT THEY NEVER ADDRESSED BRUCE PUNCHING TIM IN COMICS SO I HAD TO DO IT MYSELF.)

It doesn’t take long to break into Tim’s apartment. Record time, actually. In less than ten minutes Jason is sliding up the window to Tim’s kitchen and climbing over the sill, easy peasy. He should really talk to the replacement about his lack of security against fellow batkids. “Timbo?” he calls, closing the window and re-locking it. “You here?” He’d better have the right place. It’s so hard keeping track of everyone’s safehouses these days, and Jason is not eager for a repeat of what happened the last time he got it wrong. That old lady looked scared to death when Jason crawled in through the air duct, covered in blood that was only thirty percent his own. (The lady was super understanding when he explained the situation. She even fixed up his stab wound with her sewing kit and made him some freshly squeezed lemonade. Jason drops by every couple of weeks to check in on her and her cats.) But Tim is the priority now. “Come out, come out, you little shit.” Jason crosses the kitchen toward the living room, then stops and backtracks. He opens the fridge for a beer, momentarily forgetting that the kid is a hopeless health nut. Jason resigns himself to a package of deli ham only two days past the expiration date. It smells fine, so it must be safe to eat, right? Of all Tim’s apartments, this one is by and far the nicest, barring the expired deli meats and un-Jason-proof security system. The living room is pristine with white sofas and a glass coffee table, making the whole setup vibe more like a hotel suite than an actual home. Definitely not Jason-proof. He sits right in the middle of the fancy sofa, kicking off his boots. “If you get mud on my carpet, you’re cleaning it up.”

Jason looks up at Tim in the doorway and grins. “Don’t I always?” The kid looks horrible, full offense. Tim is wearing one of Dick’s old Hudson University sweatshirts which just about swallows him, hanging a full inch over where his fingertips end. His hair is tied up in the messiest bun Jason has ever seen, and there’s a purple welt on his chin big enough that a helicopter could use it for a landing pad. His lip is swollen, blood still crusted over where Tim’s teeth must have torn it open on impact. Big yikes. “If you’re here to raid my fridge, then you already know it’s bad pickings. I haven’t been shopping in weeks.” “That’s not why I’m here, actually.” Not the only reason, at least. Multitasking is key when you’re a contract killer who needs Sundays free for tea time with Alfred. “Just leave whatever data you have here and I’ll look it over in the morning.” “Again, not why I’m here.” “Then can you just tell me whatever it is so I can go back to bed?” It’s five in the afternoon. “Well, jeez, kid. You don’t have to rush me out the door.” Tim’s eyes flit to the ground and stay there, giving the impression of a puppy put in his place. “Sorry.” Jason eyes Tim carefully. He takes in the timid stance, the way Tim wrings and twists the sleeve of his sweatshirt until it’s stretched beyond saving. He clearly hasn’t showered or even bothered tending to his face, like keeping the wound fresh is his way of punishing himself. “You doing okay?” “Fine, why?” “Because you look like shit, that’s why.” “It’s been a hectic few days. I’ve been meaning to crash for hours.” “How about that bruise you got there? Looks nasty.” Tim touches the bruise as if he forgot it was there, biting back a wince. “It’s fine. I got it on patrol and haven’t gotten around to icing it yet.” “Must have been a big guy to do that kind of damage.” Tim’s eyes narrow. Jason eats his ham, a picture of innocence. “If you’re trying to get me to circle around and ask you about your problems, then I’m sorry, but I’m really not in the mood to play therapist tonight. You can stay here as long as you want, but I’m going to bed.” He turns and starts toward his bedroom. “You’re really not going to tell me who gave you that bruise?” Tim stops, a shudder running down his spine. He doesn’t turn, not yet. “Did Barbara tell you?” “I can’t believe you didn’t. What, did you think this would all go away if you just kept quiet about it?” “There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing happened.” “My ass nothing happened. Bruce hit you last night. He hit you over nothing.” Tim whirls around, fists clenched. “So? I get hit all the time. Am I supposed to have a breakdown every time someone punches me?” “Getting hit by a criminal and getting hit by your dad are not the same thing, and you know it.” “I’m a big boy, Jason. I can handle it.” Jason leans forward, forgetting all about his rancid ham. “You realize how fucked up this is, right?” “Oh, give me a break—” “Hey. The adult is talking now. Our father nearly shattered your jaw a few hours ago and here you are, hiding from him like it was your fault.” Not that Jason blames him for not wanting to be near the manor after what happened; he wouldn’t either if he were in Tim’s place. Hell, he was in Tim’s place. “You weren’t there, Jay. You have no idea what happened.” “Oh, yeah? Enlighten me, then. What gives that asshole the right to put his hands on you?” “The fact that I shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place! Bruce was dealing with enough as it was without me making it worse.” “Only if you call trying to help someone ‘making things worse.’ From what Babs told me, you didn’t do Jack shit to deserve what he did.” “I don’t care what Barbara told you. I was there, I know what I did wrong, and I’ve accepted that.” “Except you did nothing wrong.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Tim’s voice is raised, his eyes narrowed. “You didn’t see how upset Bruce was. He wasn’t himself. I should have seen that and backed off, but I didn’t. He was hurting and angry, and...I provoked him. It was my own fault.” “Do you have any idea how insane you sound? You tried to help him, and he punched you in the face for it. I know you’ve dealt with this exact situation a million times, you know the protocol.” Tim rolls his eyes. “This is completely different.” “Why? Because you’re not a minor? Because Bruce isn’t your father? Or maybe because you threw the first punch? Oh, wait. None of those are fucking true.” “What do you want from me? Do you want me to start crying, call up child services and tell them that my adoptive father gave me a little bruise because I was being insubordinate while we were all dressed as vigilantes? Will that magically ease your conscience?” “I want you to stop fucking covering for him,” Jason says. “You know that there’s no excuse for a parent hurting their child.” “I’m not a child!” “Sorry to break it to you, pal, but you fucking are! And Bruce? He’s your father. It doesn’t matter if you’re twelve or seventeen or thirty—his job is to be a fucking parent to you. And instead he punched you so hard Babs said you were unconscious for a good thirty seconds.” Tim crosses his arms and leans on the wall. He doesn’t try to come closer or sit on any of the furniture, keeping his distance from Jason. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion. Maybe those rules apply to normal people, but we’re different. Violence and anger, that’s how this family communicates. Hell, Bruce and I spar all the time and you’ve never lectured me about it being abuse until now.” Jason runs a hand over his face, thoroughly done with this shit. “I can’t believe you’re still trying to rationalize this.” “Because it’s a rational thing!” “Is it?” “Yes.” “Would you ever hit him?” “It wouldn’t be the first time.” “No, I’m not talking sparring or some stupid teenage angst-fueled outburst. I’m asking if you, Tim Drake, would ever intentionally hurt Bruce in a way that would do damage. Even if he did something shitty to deserve it. Would you hurt him?” Tim hesitates. He bites his swollen lip. “I might. If I were really angry.” “We both know that’s bullshit. The guy’s got a hundred pounds on you and your hand would probably shatter if you tried to sock him in the face, but you still wouldn’t hurt him.” “So?” “So, he knows you’re a twig and he beat the shit out of you anyway. That’s not fucking okay.” “It wasn’t on purpose,” Tim says, but he’s losing momentum by the second. He looks years too tired for this conversation as it is. “It was...instinct. A spur-of-the-moment reaction. It’s not—I mean, he’s Bruce. He would never hurt us intentionally.” “He already did.” “And I’m perfectly fine. It’s not like he punched Damian or Cass, just me. He knew I could take it, and he was right. I’m fine. This bruise will heal up in a couple days, and then we can all forget it ever happened.” “I won’t.” “Why not? Why are you being so goddamn uptight about this? It has nothing to do with you, anyway.” Jason can feel his eyes smolder Lazarus green as he surges forward and hisses, “It has everything to do with me.” Tim flinches. It’s not major, barely even counts as a real flinch, but it happens. Tim flinches away from Jason, and the anger dissipates as quickly as it came. Jesus, what did Bruce do to this kid? Jason sits back, takes a breath, tries to make his voice gentler. “Bruce hurt me too, okay?” Tim’s expression doesn’t change but for a twinge of his eyebrows. “It was a misunderstanding, but...he hurt me. Badly. I was out of commission for two fucking months. Probably would have died if it hadn’t been for Roy.” That gets a reaction. Tim’s mouth drops open and he flounders for a moment, like he can’t put the two things together. Bruce attacking Jason? No results. Does not compute. “What—why would he do that?” “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that, as irritating as you are, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.” Like he has any right to be saying this. Tim still has the scar on his neck from when Jason’s brains were made of gruel. “Not by a parent. Not by someone you’re supposed to trust. So this is me looking out for you, alright?” Jason reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out a crumpled paper. “I know you’ve got your own setup for when you need time away from the manor, but these are all of my addresses and phone numbers. If something like this happens again, I want you to call me.” Tim takes the paper but protests, “It’s okay, really. I don’t need—” “Yeah, yeah, you don’t need to be coddled. I get it. But keep it anyway. And if you start feeling unsafe at the manor, you call me and I’ll take care of it. I already gave Damian, Cass, and Duke copies too. Just...look out for yourself, alright? All of you. Look out for each other.” Tim folds up the paper and slips it into his back pocket. “What about you?” “The old man and I are…” That’s a whole other can of worms Jason really isn’t in the mood to unpack right now. “It’s still rocky between us. I’m keeping my distance. But for you guys, I don’t care. If one of you needs help, I’ll be there. Got it?” Tim blinks, and lucky for him, Jason is courteous enough not to make fun of the tears he is clearly holding back. “Thanks, Jay.”

[salixj]

(December 21, 2020 / JNS) It’s one of the few rap videos around that features a lead singer in frockcoat, tallis and shtreimel—paired with a cascade of gold chains (one bearing a Magen David) and leopard-skin scarf—dancing with guys from the ‘hood facing off against others in Chassidic garb.

As such, “Mothaland Bounce,” where our hero proudly calls himself “Hitler’s worst nightmare,” reveals much about the man behind it and what it means to be a passionate and deeply committed Jew of color.

Because for Nissim Black—successful rapper, father of six and Orthodox Jew—the video makes a strong statement about how Jews of color merge their very disparate identities into a (nearly) seamless whole.

(Fans may want to check out Black’s newest rap video “Hava”—a thoroughly Nissim spin on the traditional “Hava Nagila”—its release timed for the first night of Hanukkah).

Black is perhaps the most famous of today’s Jews of color. (Readers of a certain age will recall when singer Sammy Davis Jr. could claim that honor).

Though the term itself has gained traction in the last decade, there have always been Jews of different races. Scan the globe today, and you’ll find Ethiopian Jews and the African Lemba tribe whose men test positive for the Kohen gene, a marker of the Jewish priests.

What’s more, many Sephardic, Cuban, Mexican and Yemenite Jews consider themselves Jews of color. Not to mention the murky waters surrounding pockets of the Black Hebrews found in Israel (largely in Dimona and Arad in the Negev Desert) and around the Diaspora, many of whom claim descent from the ancient Israelites.

The numbers are equally murky. Estimates range from 6 percent to 12 percent—or even as much as 15 percent—of today’s Jewish population being Jews of color. But there is little in the way of standardized definition of who is a Jew; some studies count all the members of a household as Jewish household when only one member actually is. But when researchers Arnold Dashefsky and Ira M. Sheskin held the disparate estimates of Jews of color up to the light of demographic standards earlier this year, they concluded that the percentage of Jews of color “is almost certainly closer to 6 percent nationally [from the 2013 Pew study] than 12 to 15 percent. And this percentage has not increased significantly since 1990, although it is likely to do so in the future.”

It stands to reason that this year of painful racial tensions across North America could trigger an internal debate in African-American Jews, especially those who came to the faith not through birth or adoption, but who, like Black, embraced Judaism as adults.

And embrace it many of them do—with passion, perseverance and a deep appreciation—often overcoming raised eyebrows, insensitivity and even downright racism in the process. With a surprising number of them finding their spiritual home in Orthodox Judaism.

Nissim Black

Damian Jamohl Black, whom the world knows now as rapper Nissim Black, was born into a family of Seattle drug dealers in 1986. His childhood was pockmarked by FBI raids on his home, his dad was taken away in handcuffs, and he was accustomed to assorted incidents of street violence and crime. By 9, he was smoking marijuana, and plants were growing in his room. By 12, he’d joined the family business.

The only faith Black was exposed to back then was his grandfather’s Islam. His first religious service? A mosque, which he attended until his grandfather went to prison.

But at 13, Black was pulled into Christianity by missionaries. He now says it was the best thing that could have happened to him. “This was the first time I was around people who had normal healthy relationships. No one sold drugs, they had a heart for kids from the inner city, and their summer camp was the most fun I’d had in my life,” he recalls. “Becoming religious saved me from the world of street gangs.”

By high school, he was “the poster child of the missionary center.” That’s when he met the woman who would become his wife. As a Seventh-Day Adventist, Jamie (now Adina) went to church on Saturdays. They wed in 2008 but remarried in an Orthodox ceremony after their conversion five years later.

By 19, Black was making rap music professionally, and his mother died of an overdose. But by 20, Christianity was beginning to feel foreign to him, and he began wondering what the Jews walking in his neighborhood on Saturday mornings were up to. “I went to Rabbi Google and found Chabad.org. And it all began to make sense,” he says. “I told my wife [they were newlyweds] that I didn’t want to celebrate Christmas and Easter anymore. Pretty soon, she was doing her own digging into Judaism.”

The couple’s conversion followed in 2013 and aliyah to Israel three years later. The Blacks now make their home in Ramat Beit Shemesh with their six children, ages 1 to 12. “I wanted my kids to grow up here,” he says, “where they’d see Jews of different shades all praying the same prayers.”

“I’ve checked every box, right?” he says with a laugh. “One rabbi at my yeshivah told me, ‘You have a lot of strikes against you: You’re black, you’re a convert and you’re a Breslov Chassid. And in all these things is your greatness.”

Maayan Zik

Maayan Zik was 13 when her soul woke her up. Growing up in Washington, D.C., with her mom and sister—her parents divorced when she was in first grade, and she didn’t see her dad for another 10 years—she attended Catholic schools and was close with her maternal grandparents, Jamaican immigrants who took her to museums and taught her the value of hard work and education.

Accompanying her Jamaican-born grandmother to church every Sunday, by 13, Zik had “begun to wonder if what my family believes is right for me.” She explored a number of world religions, but when she saw a photo of her light-skinned Jamaican great-grandmother Lilla Abrams, whom family lore says was Jewish, “I realized I had to go way back to find out who I am.”

When she moved to an apartment in 2005 in the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn, N.Y., she noticed the previous tenant had a left up a poster of a white-bearded man. “I said to myself, ‘I’m going to find out who you are.’ The man turned out to be the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Two years later, after courses and a summer seminary program, she converted. Thirteen years later, now 36, Zik remains there—with her Israeli-born husband and four children. “This somewhat awkward coexistence that lives inside me” fades into the background when she begins to pray, she says. “Having a personal conversation with God as part of the Jewish people, it’s who I’ve always been; I just didn’t know it.”

Mordechai Ben Avraham

Black and Mordechai Ben Avraham are both African-Americans from the West Coast (Seattle and Los Angeles, respectively), and both found Judaism in their 20s. But their early environment could hardly have been more different.

Growing up in an affluent neighborhood with a successful businessman father and a professor mother, “my focus was on how someday I could make more money than my dad.”

Ben Avraham’s spiritual journey took him from Sufism to the Kabbalah until at 22 he experienced Shabbat in a Carlebach-style minyan. “It was like I was floating in outer space. This is what Jews do? This is amazing! The Torah, the prayers, this beautiful spiritual system God gave to the Jews for people to transform themselves—they literally grabbed my heart.” His conversion was complete in 2013 with his move to Israel three years later.

Now 39, the former TV producer is living in the heart of Jerusalem’s religious Mea Shearim neighborhood, working towards his rabbinical degree and publishing a book on the joys of Torah as a black Jew.

But why would anyone who’s already making a huge leap religiously and culturally choose to embrace Orthodoxy with its full menu of mitzvot, accepting the Torah as Divine and committing to living within halachah (Jewish law)?

“If someone is going to make this big of a change completely based on their need to go beyond, there’s a very real tendency to go what many would consider ‘all the way,’ ” says Henry Abramson, dean of Brooklyn’s Touro College and author of The Kabbalah of Forgiveness: The Thirteen Levels of Mercy in Rabbi Moshe Cordovero’s Date Palm of Devorah (2014), among other titles.

A shared history

Much of this tendency to search spiritually can be traced to African-Americans’ religious experience in America, adds Abramson. “Since the 1960s, we’ve seen the phenomenon of questioning the Christianity foisted on their slave ancestors.”

And though Islam has attracted many of these disenfranchised souls—in part, he says, because the black Muslim culture permeated prisons beginning in the 1960s—Judaism offers another option.

Ben Avraham maintains that, in a spiritual sense, Judaism may feel familiar to those raised in the black church. “Like Judaism, gospel Christianity is an intense personal relationship with God without any intermediaries,” he says.

This is a connection Ben Avraham experiences every day of his life. “Living in Mea Shearim, in a fundamental way, I’m around people who are just like me. I just connect with my Chassidic neighbors.”

A growing fissure

But after the 1960s and ’70s, when Jews fought alongside blacks for civil rights in the United States and in South Africa, “there’s been a growing fissure between blacks and Jews,” says Rabbi Maury Kelman who, as director of Route 613, a New York City conversion program, has welcomed many students of different races into his classes.

And, with last summer’s rise in violence between the African-American community and the religious Jewish community, primarily in New York,” says Black, “lately, it’s gotten uglier.”

‘I cried all the way home’

Not everyone in the Jewish community rolls out the proverbial red carpet for someone of color.

After working up the courage to walk into synagogue on Shabbat, Zik couldn’t miss the two women glaring at her, eventually yelling at her to get out and threatening to call the police before giving chase.

“I cried all the way home, but my friends would not let me give up,” she says. “I also knew from everything I’d read about the Rebbe, with his emphasis on love and kindness, that eventually this would be the right place for me.”

“Unfortunately, like in all communities, you’ll find the occasional ignorant Jew or racist,” allows Kelman, who offers programs on the importance of accepting the convert.

A time of racial tensions

With this year’s heated racial debates and demonstrations following the May 25 killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis, where does that put Jews of color, with feet in both the African-American and Jewish worlds?

Zik, for one, helped lead a rally in Crown Heights this summer where black neighbors shared their experiences with racism. “It was a reminder,” she says, “that the Torah teaches us to protect the rights of all God’s children.”

And the learning goes both ways, she adds. “When black friends ask me if now that I’m Jewish, do I have money? I tell them about the Jews I know who struggle to pay for rent, food and their kids’ yeshivah tuitions. I tell them that, when I’ve had my babies, neighbors bring us meals and help furnish the nursery. People here always want to do another mitzvah.”

Ben Avraham also says he better appreciates African-American history because he is a Jew. “We can see our own story reflected in the Torah,” he says. “Our two peoples had so many struggles just to survive.”

Adds Black: “Just knowing there are black religious Jews can help the two communities see they aren’t completely separate after all—not to judge each other so quickly.”

Kelman agrees. “Black Jews can be a terrific bridge chiefly because they have credibility on both sides. It’s increasingly important to teach our fellow Jews that we’re a family that comes in different colors, that Judaism is colorblind,” he says. “Once they convert, they’re just as Jewish as any of us—and our diversity only strengthens us.”

‘Something bigger than myself’

By the end of “Mothaland Bounce,” the guys from the ’hood and the Chassids are dancing together with Black as ringmaster.

But it may be “A Million Years” that’s Black’s love letter to Judaism.

In this 2016 music video (with singer Yisroel Laub), Black takes a journey proudly carrying a Torah throughout Israel—archeological digs, mountain caves, a busy shuk (marketplace) and Jerusalem’s Old City—turning heads as he goes. (Don’t miss the moment when Black stops to let some haredi kids lovingly kiss the Torah), finally nestling it inside a synagogue’s ark.

“Since I was a kid, I was looking to be part of something bigger than myself,” says Black. “I prayed and prayed, and finally, I knew who I needed to be, a Jew, and where I needed to be, the Holy Land. It took time but now God’s answered my prayers. And one thing I know is that to God there is no such thing as color. He sees us for who we are inside.”

As he raps:

“I came from a distance Where everything was different … I called out to You And You showed me that You listened … I gave my all to You And You showed me who I am.”

[dawnwave16]

dad Bruce Wayne only Marinette doesn't know till she has been shipped off to him thanks to lila's lies. So she has to hide the fact she us ladybug and the new guardion while the bat family have to find the fact they are the bat family Mean while Jason has started a betting pool on when the newest member of the family joins the bat family

Sorry, this has taken so long! While I read a lot of Maribat I’m not very familiar with how they are in canon so I’m not 100% sure if I got this right! I also kinda ran out of insperation near the end so if it feels rushed that’s why. :)

Story:

A bug amoung the bats.

To the staff of the plane, the girl sitting in the window seat just in front of the right wing was quiet and withdrawn.  To her family, she was untrustworthy and a risk to their livelihood.  To those who she used to think of as friends, she was a backstabber and a liar who hid her bullying tendencies behind an innocent face.

The truth was she was none of those things.  Her name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and what she was, was beyond angry.  

She had arrived home after the battle with Miracle Queen only to find her bags sitting for her by the door. Her parents had given her two hours to box up everything she deemed worthy of being sent to her new home as well as any trinkets she might want to take with her in her hand luggage before they had handed her a bus pass, a one-way plane ticket, a letter to her new guardians and told her they could no longer risk having her under their roof so they were sending her to Gotham to be with a family there that could hopefully get her back onto the ‘right path’.

A soft sigh escaped Marinette as she stared unseeingly out the small window.  Slowly a tear rolled down her cheek before she angrily swiped it away.  As if she didn’t have enough to deal with, she thought angrily.  Now she would have to hide the fact that she was Ladybug as well as the newly christened High Guardian of the Miraculous from people she didn’t know.  Who knew how well that would go.  

Another tear escaped her eyes as she thought about how she had been betrayed.  Looking back, she wished she had told Adrien that Lila had threatened her in the bathroom that day.  Or that she hadn’t blindly believed him when he’d said that she would out herself if they took the high road.  She wished she hadn’t tried to deal with everything by herself instead of telling her parents before Lila had gotten to them.  But most of all she wished that her trust in adults hadn’t been completely destroyed by it all.

Now she was alone and heading to a country she had limited knowledge of, where they spoke a language she wasn’t confident in speaking (although she understood more than she could say) and to a city that had more villains than Paris.

By the time her plane landed in Gotham airport, Marinette had a new mask in place.  She refused to let herself be hurt again and if that meant that she had to hide her true nature, so be it.  From now on, the world would see the ice queen she needed to be even if she wasn’t sure how to be one yet. The seatbelt sign flickered off as the captain announced the time and weather conditions before wishing them well as they disembarked.  Marinette took her time gathering all her things and making sure she had everything she might need, to hand.  

The letter from her parents sat in the front pocket of her bag like lead.  The miracle box was in the main compartment of said bag next to a blank sketchbook and a few odds and ends.  She had been too upset to design during the flight. 

Reluctantly, Marinette disembarked the plane and retrieved her bags from baggage claim.  Once she had everything she scanned the waiting crowd for whoever was meant to be fetching her.  Spotting her name on a card being held by a distinguished older gentleman she slowly made her way over to him, trying not to drag her feet despite waiting to.

“Sorry to keep you waiting sir.  I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Marinette introduced herself in stilted high-school english, emotions locked behind a blank mask that would make an assassin proud.

“Oh God, it’s another Demon Spawn,” the man’s companion muttered.  She flicked her eyes over him.  Where the man holding the card was wearing a formal suit and looked neat and representable, the one who had just spoken looked like a biker.  A scuffed brown leather jacket hung open over a black muscle t-shirt.  Ratty jeans held up by an equally scuffed belt covered his legs.  The bottom of said jeans were tucked into well worn combat boots while a white steak in his hair added to the ‘dangerous’ vibe rolling off of him.

Marinette returned her attention to the older gentleman.

“My name is Alfred Pennyworth, Miss Dupain-Cheng.  Welcome to Gotham.  Please ignore Jason, he tends to act before he thinks.” His voice was cultured, Marinette noticed even as she nodded.  When he indicated that she was to follow him, she tightened her grip on her bag  and the luggage trolley and did so silently. 

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Jason watched his new sibling closely.  Her face was guarded but her body language screamed that she had been hurt and badly so.  Her stiff posture reminded him of Damian despite her being closer to Tim’s age.  The strange thing was that as far as Jason could see the stiffness seemed to be more of a defence mechanism rather than her true personality.  He sighed, what was it with his family always attracting those that were damaged to the point where they hid?  And why was it that both of Bruce’s biological children were the worst damaged?  Did the universe hate Bruce that much?

Although Jason didn’t know it, Alfred was thinking along the same lines.  

The trip to the mansion passed in relative silence as Marinette pulled out a cell phone and quickly started messaging all of the people that had requested commissions to explain that their orders would be delayed.  Her parents didn’t know about this phone, nor did they know about the fact that Marinette was a very successful designer with an exclusive customer base. They didn’t even know about Edna Mode mentoring her whenever the designer for the heroes had time. They thought she was still trying to get a foot in the door of the industry.  It didn’t help Lila had claimed Marinette was trying to use Adrien as a way to get to his father either.

By the time the trio reached Wayne Manor she had caught up completely.  She had also managed to further freak Jason out with how quiet she was.  As far as he knew teenaged girls were ever this quiet even when they were on their phones.  From what he remembered, girls talked non-stop no matter what.  Well most girls, Cass seemed to be the exception and now, so did Marinette.

The meeting with the rest of the family was just as icily polite as the one she had given at the airport.  All she did was hand an envelope to Bruce before saying she was tired and retreating to the room Alfred obligingly led her to.  Jason turned his attention to Bruce, who had made a strangled sound.

“B?”

“She doesn’t know…” was the choked reply.

“What?” Dick queried in confusion.

“Marinette.  She doesn’t know she’s my daughter.  Sabine never told her.”

“Holy…” Jason breathed while Damian froze.  

Damian had been willing to hate her just because Marinette had a better claim on Bruce due to being older than him but how could he hate her now?  She didn’t know she was Bruce’s daughter at all!

* * * * * * * * 

Over the next three months the bat family discovered very little about Marinette.  She hadn’t reacted as they had expected to the news that she was Bruce’s daughter at all.  Instead of bouncing off the ceiling in excitement she had become even more withdrawn, appearing only for meals and to attend school as was required. 

All of the boys had tried to get closer to her but had been rebuffed which had just added to their frustration too.  Eventually Tim had turned to his hacking skills and what he had found had left him in a cold fury.

“Tim?” Dick asked cautiously.

“Is everyone here?” Tim’s voice was noticeably trembling as he spoke.

“Yes,” Bruce grunted.  He was just as frustrated as his sons.

“Spill already, Replacement,” Jason snorted.

“Right, well apparently our sister wasn’t always this cold.  Judging from the records I’ve  been able to get my hands on she used to be a virtual ball of sunshine.  She was class president, she helped at the bakery, did charity work and bent over backwards from all those she considered to be her friends.  I’m not sure what changed though.  It looks like it was almost overnight that all her ‘friends’ started targeting her over social media, she was expelled but that got repealed fairly quickly, and suddenly she was the class parier.  It doesn’t make sense.”  Tim sighed as he ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

There was silence for a while before Damian growled and stalked out of the room.  Dick shared a look with the others before running after him.

“What are you planning?”

“Just to get some answers, Greyson.”

The two soon found themselves at the door that led to Marinette’s room and Damian raised his hand to knock.  A sound made him pause, it was almost like a…

“No way, did she just laugh?” Dick breathed.  Soon both boys had their ears pressed against the door.

“Look, Uncle J, I get you want to send Fang after the little bitch but that would just give him indigestion.” Marinette was saying which made the two eve’s droppers eyes widen.  Uncle J? Fang? And did she really just swear?

“Yeah, I know you are angry but really what more could be done?  I tried exposing her lies.  I tried warning the class.  Heck I even tried taking the high road but in the end she won.  I’m now in Gotham and none of those that I trusted to support me are here.  I never thought Tom and Sabine would fall for her lies!  They know I have multiple sketch books and that one of them is inspiration only.  They know the books are colour coded.  So why would they even think I’d copy someone else’s ideas!”  Marinette’s voice was raw with pain and defeat as she spoke which stunned the boys. 

There was a pause as Marinette listened to whoever was on the other end of the call then they heard a loud sigh.

“Do what you feel is best Uncle J.  I just don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive them.  Tom and Sabine raised me yet they still turned on me and sent me away.  I grew up with most of the people in my class yet they still believed that I could bully someone. They turned on me so quickly I almost got whiplash from it.  If that’s the thanks I get for trying to protect them, for trying to make sure they don’t fail to reach their dreams, then I wash my hands of them.  Doesn’t stop it from hurting though.”

Dick and Damian shared a look.  Marinette was chatting away in French but thanks to them learning it they were still able to understand everything.  Slowly they straightened up and made their way back to the batcave to report what they had heard.

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  

Marinette closed her eyes as she thought about the last three months.  Bruce had enrolled her in Gotham Academy and she was working as hard as she always did to make sure her grades were as high as possible.  She was pretty sure the whole school thought she was a total snob what with her ice cold attitude to most things but she didn’t care.  The only ones she showed her true self to these days were Edna, Jagged and the clients she had amassed before leaving France, the Kwami’s and her online Boyfriend Roy. 

She had met Roy by chance after attending a masked ball with Edna almost a year after she had started being mentored by the pint sized designer. Roy had tried to wriggle out of having to attend any future balls by behaving badly but Marinette had derailed his plan when she had simply grabbed his ear and told him to either quit his behaviour or she’d deal with him. He had tried to fight back but had found himself hogtied in a measuring tape. Once he had calmed down and Marinette had repaired the rips in his blazer the two had discovered they had a fair bit in common and they hadn’t stopped talking since.

When Jagged had called her to check on her she had decided to give him the full, unedited story. While he hadn’t been impressed he understood where she was coming from. Why should she have to keep fighting to help others when they wouldn’t do the same for her? Marinette flopped backwards on her bed as she thought about everything she’d learned. Bruce being her father had been a shock but it did explain why she had blue eyes. She didn’t care though. The family the man had built showed her he cared about family more than wealth so why hadn’t she known about him beforehand? Why had her mother sent her to him as a punishment? 

A knock at the door had her sitting up and making herself look presentable in a hurry.

“Come in.”

“Marinette? Can we talk for a bit?” Bruce asked her cautiously.

“Sure.” Marinette kept her mask of cold, indifference in place as she replied. “What can I help you with?”

“I know coming here and finding out I am your father was a shock but I was wondering if you could tell me about what happened for you to be sent here in the first place? I will understand if you don’t want to but I want you to know I’m here for you if you do.” Bruce said carefully. Marinette looked over Bruce’s shoulder and saw Tikki and Wayzz nodding incouringly at her. The kwami’s didn’t like how closed off Marinette had forced herself to be but had understood.

“Will I have to change again if I do tell you?” 

“Not change per say, maybe just drop the mask around the family a bit. As much as you are comfortable with anyway.”

Marinette studied Bruce for a moment before making up her mind. She’d tell him about the school issues but there was no way he’d be finding out she was Ladybug anytime soon. Secret identities and all that cam first. 

[xmalereader]

Bruce Wayne X Male reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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Summary: Bruce Wayne is set up on a blind date by Selena, he meets a cute reader who’s actually a popular artist but remains annoymous until his sons find out first.

Warning: Fluff, insecurities, shyness.

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“I’m not going.”

“Come on Bruce! You’ve been on your own for awhile now and I think it’s time that you start dating! So please just go out with this person for one night that’s all, just one night.” Said Selena as she gave Bruce the eyes.

Bruce could only frown before letting out a deep sigh and silently agreeing to the blind date, Selena cheers quietly as she smiled. “You are going to love him.” She tells him with a big smile on her face, Bruce raised a brow at her. “Him?”

“What? Can’t date a man?”

Bruce looks away, “I’ve slept with a few back then but I haven’t dated any guy before.” He admits as he sets down the newspaper he had in hand and stands up from his chair. “Believe me you’ll like him, he’s really nice and charming and a gentlemen but let’s be honest you are too. Oh! And he’s really great with kids you know? In case things go well and all maybe he can be like the new mother to your four boys.”

“It’s a blind date not an arranged marriage and besides, how do I know who he is?” Bruce questions and makes his way around the manor with Selena following right behind him. “It’s easy, he wear these round rim glasses which makes him look adorable and hsi hair is as white as snow, natural color actually.” She tells the big man as they entered his room. “Why don’t you date him?”

“Oh, I would but as you can see he is not interested in me and I see him more as a friend and roommate than as a boyfriend or dating material, you know?”

Bruce didn’t know.

He’s only dated a few people and his relationships didn’t end so well, the first person he dated at talia and ended up having a son with her and then things went sideways, next was Selena. She was a nice woman and all but he just didn’t see himself settling down with her or anyone else, he was too busy taking care of his own family and focusing on the company and as Batman.

“How old is he?”

Selena frowns, “Why don’t you just go and meet him, I already told him that he has a date tonight at six, told him to dress casual since he’s not the kind of guy to go to a fancy place he says that it makes him feel uncomfortable.”

“So where will I men meeting him or is he or I going to pick him up?”

“You ask way to many questions; But, I didn’t tell him that it was you since its a blind date so you’ll be meeting him at a nice coffee shop that is also a bookstore, been their and not too crowded so not many people will notice you.” She finished explains to him and wasn’t going to answer any more questions wether he liked it or not.

Bruce was looking through his clothing and seeing what he can find to wear tonight. Sighing he rubs his neck as he didn’t find anything casual since he was always wearing something nice. “Alright, ill meet him their and make sure that it goes well. Let’s just hope that your little friend shows up.” He turns around to face Selena with crossed arms.

Selena could only grin and hum. “Don’t worry he’s a nice guy and he won’t leave, actually he’s more afraid of being stood up by you. Thing is that he doesn’t know who you are so just enjoy your date and don’t act all rich around him.” She walks over to Bruce nad kissed his cheek before bidding her farewell, exiting his room she turns around and gasps to see Tim, Jason, Dick, and Damian standing by the doorway.

“You all heard right?” She asks with crossed arms.

“You’re setting up my father with someone? Seriously, I mean if he really needs to cause Trollop than he should just go to a club or something.” Said Damian with a glare on his face as Selena stared at him with a confused one.

“He means sex.” Dick corrects Damian and gave a nervous smile to Selena.

“Oh, well it’s not a one night stand. Both Bruce and my friend need this and I think it’ll work-“ before she could keep going she smirks at the idea that suddenly pops into her head. “Why don’t you follow him and see how the date goes? Maybe that way you can decide if he’s good enough or not.” She leans off the door and began to walk away from the boys.

“She’s not wrong you know.”

“We aren’t following him.” Said Dick.

“I say we follow him.” Tim

“Agreed.” Both Damian and Jason said at the same time as the three boys ran to the bat cave to get ready for tonight while dick groans loudly and chased after them.

Once the clock stroke six, Bruce was getting himself ready for the date tonight and was able to find something casual. He fixed up his hair and sighs as he finished getting ready. He would check his phone a few times to keep track of the time as he drove to hsi destination.

The small bookstore looked nice and warm, almost friendly looking. He could smell the coffee once he stepped inside the shop and saw multiple people walking around quietly with books and coffee in hand. He looks over to the tables and searched for a certain whit haired boy. Frowning a little he didn’t notice anyone with white hair, checking his watch he notices that he’s early and thinks that the other is just on his way. Before he could order his own coffee he noticed a certain man sitting by the window with his hoodie on, he was wearing round glasses as he sketched in his notebook.

Bruce turns and approached the table, setting his hand on the free chair that was across from the other male. “Mind if I sit?”

The other is startled and shuts his notebook, he looks up to see Bruce and quickly takes his hoodie off. “Are you Bruce?” He asks softly and stands up to greet him. “Yes and you must be Selena’s roommate correct?”

“Actually she’s my roommate but-“ he shakes his head. “That doesn’t matter, anyways I’m Y/n.” He extends his hand out for a hand shake which Bruce accepted. The two sat down as Y/n looks down shyly. “I’m sorry but I’m not really used to this sort of stuff, Selena sort of forced me to go on this blind date so I’m sorry if I’m wasting your time.”

Bruce was a little shocked by the others explanation, he didn’t expect the other to be so forward. But he did notice a few things that stood out to him, he noticed that Y/n was avoiding eye contact and kept his hands wrapped around the coffee cup, his fingers tracing small shapes onto it’s surface as if trying to distract himself from an awkward conversation.

This guy was shy and an open book.

“You’re not wasting my time, actually Selena also forced me too but I couldn’t refuse. I’m not the kind of guy who refuses a date.” He smirks at Y/n, trying to flirt with the other.

Y/n could only chuckle softly as he rubs his cheek with his hand. “Guess were on the same page.” He replies with a sweet smile that caused Bruce to feel a little warm inside.

The two slowly began to talk.

It was awkward at first but as time went by Y/n was opening up as they talked about random subjects, just small things to get to know each other.

“Wait so your a single parent?” Y/n asks. They were talking abut Bruce’s small family and him mentioning his sons. “I am a single parent but I’ve never been married before, no. Three of my boys are adopted and the other is my actual son....sort of slipped up on that relationship.” Says Bruce as Y/n smiles a softly and takes a small sip of his coffee. “I think that’s nice of you to do you know, taking in four boys all on your own. Must be tough.”

Bruce laughs and leans back in his seat and nods. “Tougher than you can think.”

“We are not tough!”

“Shut up Jason, you know it’s true.”

The two adults were talking to each other for almost three hours now.

Y/n was actually having a good Time with Bruce, he didn’t feel uncomfortable anymore and more relaxed than ever. It’s been years since he last dated, he was to focused on his career and mother that he never gave himself some time.

Bruce was about to ask Y/n something else but was cut off by the ringing of Y/n’s phone. “Sorry..” he says as he pulls out his phone and stand up. “I need to take this-“

“Don’t worry take your time.” Bruce said with a small wave.

Y/n thanks Bruce and walks off to answer the phone call.

So far so good, Bruce was actually enjoying himself. He didn’t have to dress up nice today and the date didn’t take place in a fancy and expensive restaurant like he thought it would. Instead he got a bookstore and coffee, which he was okay with. Most of the people that he dates know who he is and usually date him for the money, sometimes he only has a one night and moves on but somehow he feels like he wants to continue seeing Y/n.

“I’m so sorry about this,” Bruce is pulled out of his thoughts as he turns to Y/n, hearing a hint of worry in his voice. “I have to get going, something came up and it’s urgent.” He explains and picks up his notebook and slips his phone back inside his pocket. “It’s fine, we all get busy.” Bruce stands up as well, gathering himself once again as he sighs and turns to Y/n.

“I really enjoyed tonight, I hope that we can do it again!” Y/n shouts out as he rushed out the door, waving goodbye as the other ran down the street.

Bruce was left in the shop as he watched Y/n run off, cursing to himself as he mumbled. “I forgot to get his number.” He rubs his neck tiredly and throws away his empty coffee cup and heads back home.

Bruce hasn’t seen Y/n or Selena in almost three weeks now, he’s tried to call Selena and ask for Y/n’s number but she never answered and he didn’t know where she lived. ( I mean they both lived together ) He knows that he could easily look him up but he really wants to give this dating thing a try with Y/n and he didn’t want to look through Y/n’s personal information, not yet.

So, bruce spent the weeks busying himself in the office and going on patrol with his boys.

He remembers one night he was swinging through the city and he swore that he saw a young man with whiter hair down in the streets which caused Bruce to lose concentration and almost slammed himself against a building, but good thing that he was able to focus before anything could happen.

The boys were shocked by this, Bruce would never lose focus and he was always serious when patrolling. So the boys took drastic measures into their own hands, they would keep themselves busy in the bat cave as the searched up the guy that bruce went on a date with not too long ago. They were Able to find a few things about Y/n.

He was a 28 year old man who worked at an art store.

His father died in an accident and his mother was currently in the hospital, diagnose with cancer.

Damian frowns at the new information. “That night he ran like hell.” He blurts out as he hears Tim’s typing stop, getting the attention of the others. “He did say that it was urgent.” Tim answers back as he approached Damian and stands next to him. Damian checks the hospital reports and hums, “As expected his mother was going through a rough stage of cancer the night he and father went out.” He began to explain as he continued to look through the files.

Dick moved over to the computer this time and sighs. “She’s been sick for two years now, she’s been lucky so far but how is he able to get the perfect treatments for his mother?” He asks as he shoved Damian off the chair, earning a growl in response as he made his own research on Y/n. He skims through and stops at a familiar painting that he’s seen before, “Wait-“

He pulls up the information and his eyes widen. “Holy shit, Y/n is a famous painter! This guy makes almost fifty-one thousand a year.” He says as he quickly types. “It’s not really a lot.” Jason cuts in with crossed arms, dick turns around to face hsi brothers. “It ma not be a lot but he stil makes a lot and look,” he pulls up some pictures of the paintings that he’s done and sold. “Half of these paintings were bought by bruce during an art show. He goes every year and buys a new painting from the anonymous artist and turns out that he’s dating that guy but doesn’t know it!”

Jason gasps dramatically. “Oh my god! Why does that even matter?” He frowns at dick and placed his hands on his hips as he tilts his head to the side.

“He’s famous in Gotham, probably the second most popular here in Gotham.” Said Damian. “Fathers dating another millionaire.”

During one of Bruce’s meetings he gets a random phone call from Selena.

Raising a brow he answers the call. “can I help you with something Selena?” He questions as he waits for the others response. “Wow so strict but no, I actually called to see if you wanted to join me in some art gallery show that they are hoisting today.” Bruce thinks for a second before answering. “Why not take Y/n with you?”

“Yeah...wish I could but he’s been busy since you two went out on a date. He’s been doing stuff...” She answers, he could hear her moving around the room.

“What-!? Don’t move me!”

Bruce could hear Y/n’s voice in the background as Selena laughs at the white haired male before she turns back to her phone. “Be ready by five, I’ll meet you there.” Is all she said before hanging up.

Bruce pulls his phone away from his ear and stares at the black screen before groaning and rubbing his temples, why was he always getting involved into this sort of stuff?

Bruce knew that he wasn’t going to be alone at the gallery since the boys were also tagging along. The five of them were dressed up in nice tux’s since it was going to be full of people and mainly rich people since the go to gallery’s to buy art pieces. “Now, don’t cause any trouble.” He warns the others as he was helping Damian with his tie. “Since we are going together to this gallery do you mind if I borrow some money to buy an art piece?” Damian asks, once bruce was finished with his tie he sighs. “Just one piece, we don’t know if their be good artist at this place.” He slicked his hair back as they made their way outside and into their vehicles heading towards the gallery.

The place was crowded and full of people. Everyone was talking and drinking as they admired the art work, some were already buying art pieces while others only critique. “Remember.” Bruce said and glared at the others. “No trouble, espiaclly you two.” He points to both Damian and Tim who in return gets an offend look by his own son.

“Good.” With that he makes his way around the gallery, stopping by every once an awhile to admire some of the art work. He was standing in front of a piece when he hears stand next to him, glancing over his eyes widen as he spots the familiar round glasses and white hair. “Y/N?”

Y/n is startled as he sees bruce next to him, “Bruce? Hey, it’s been awhile.” He said with a small hint of red spreading across his cheeks. Bruce could only smile at him, “Selena told me that you were busy today, said that wouldn’t make it.”

“Yeah, about that.” Y/n started to explain to Bruce about his mother and how she was in the hospital. He would stay days with her and would help her with her treatment but since nothing has gotten better for his mother he tends to worry for her. “I’m sorry that I left in a hurry, I hope that I didn’t make upset.” He avoids Bruce’s eyes and stares down as he drink in hand and shyly rubs the back of his neck. “No need, I suspected that something was wrong you don’t need to apologize.” He answers back.

Y/n lets a small smile appear on his lips before he turns his head to look at the painting. “Beautiful right?” He blurts out, changing the subject as bruce looks at the painting as well. “It really is, The colors are beatiful but I prefer anonymous’s paintings..”

Y/n froze in place, staring at the wall now. “R-really? H-how come?” He stutters out, hoping that bruce wouldn’t notice. “Their art usually tells a story and their portraits are lovely too, I sometimes asked myself if they get professional models or picks popular place as the scenery.”

Y/n’s face was heating up from all the praise he was receiving. “I heard that their new project was impressive.” He mumbles out and clears his throat. “Also heard that it was bought by someone named Mr. Wayne?”

It was Bruce’s turn to get startled as he chokes on his drink. “Are you okay?!” Y/n gasps as he gently pats his back and bites his lip as he watched bruce cough and shake his head. “I’m fine!” He says between coughs before he clear his throat and straightened his posture. “Please excuse me for a minute.” He tells y/n and leaves to search for Damian.

He finds the teenager talking smack on Tim as he approached his son. “You bought a painting.” He states. “Yes father, you gave me permission to purchase one and I did.” Damian stand in front of his father with his hands behind his back. “How much did you buy it for?”

“Well many people were bidding on it and the highest was almost 60K so I bought it for a million.”

“You bought my painting for a million?”

Bruce turns around it see Y/n standing in front of them with a shocked look on his face, “No one has ever done that...I can’t accept that money.”

“And why not? You worked hard on your painting and deserve the money that you earn from it and besides I quiet like it.” Said Damian.

“Yes I know but-“

“Wait, your anonymous? You’re the one that makes all of those popular paintings?” Bruce asks as Y/n looks down. “yes...I don’t really like mentioning it since criticizers usually attack me with their negative thoughts on my art so that’s why I decide to remain nameless, you see I cant handle criticizers very well...” he pushed his glasses up and places with the ends of his tie, staring down at his shoes and biting his lip.

Bruce was surprised to know that this man was the famous artist that he has been buying from. Every time that he bought an art work he always made sure to send them a ‘thank you’ for all the hard work the put into their work but Y/n was a very hard person to find until now.

“You know that you don’t have to be afraid, I like your work and I think that it’s beautiful.”

Y/n blushes again and chuckles shyly. “Thank you, bruce.”

Damian smirks as he opens his mouth. “Your recent art work is very well made, I’m kind of glad that I bought it since it represents your date with my father.”

“What?”

Y/n shakes his head at Damian as he quickly chased after Bruce who walked off to search for hsi art work. Y/n was panicking from embarrassment as he sees bruce come upon his art work, the piece resembled the time that he and Y/n were talking about their past lives. During that moment Y/n was able to get a mental shot of bruce staring out the with a smile on his face. Y/n couldn’t get rid of that image in his head and decides to paint him out, making sure to keep Bruce’s face hidden a bit since he didn’t really get his permission to paint him.

“I-“

“Ill give you 2 million.” Bruce blurts out.

“What? NO!” Y/n shouts out in embarrassment and covers his face from bruce.