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soulmate-game · 4 years

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Continuation of the story from Day 1, because you guys requested it enough that I started Thinking, lol.

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 3: Siblings

—*—*—*—*—*

Dinner. One day after meeting her father for the first time. She had managed to postpone any sort of… socialization and emotional bonding, during their meeting earlier for everyone to choose from Marinette’s initial sketches for them and generally consult some more, by once again steamrolling everyone with Professionalism and Business Marinette.

But no longer. She couldn’t escape. Staring at a giant wooden, elaborate door like it was her pathway to Prison—

“Stop dramatizing everything in your head, Mari,” Adrien fondly scolded, gently rapping the side of her skull with one knuckle. “I got things to do, for your company I might add, so I can’t stay. But, you’ll be fine,” he leaned in, smirking at her and winking as he lowered his voice. “Besides, you’ve been through way worse than a little family reunion, Bugaboo. You’ve faced down way scarier people than the Waynes. You got this,” he encouraged before giving her a solid clap on the shoulder and a chaste kiss on the cheek, walking back towards their sleek but understated dark red car. Rented, of course, for the business trip, but nonetheless very nice.

Adrien had driver’s licenses for just about every major country. Marinette stopped questioning it a while ago.

She waited until he was gone before throwing her hands up. “Scarier people, he says. Like the Bat clan isn’t known for being some of the most intimidating heroes and vigilantes in the spotlight,” she grumbled. When she turned around, it was to the door already being open, and she jumped a bit in surprise. She hadn’t heard anyone answer the door, but sure enough Alfred Pennyworth stood there holding the door with a small smile, with Bruce Wayne and all of Marinette’s siblings gathered behind him. At least this time, nobody had their spouses or children. Every one of them was smirking, some more sharply than others (Damian).

“Would you like to come in, Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Alfred asked, waving his hand to gesture to the fact that there was plenty of room for her to enter. Blushing, she did just that, taking a breath and forcing herself to actually look at the family she had just met instead of down at her glossy navy blue pumps. Jason, the man with the white fringe in his hair. Second Robin, current Red Hood, her mind supplied, spoke up with a grin and his arms crossed over his chest.

“You don’t look so suave anymore, little Queenie,” he teased. Marinette instantly made a face, screwing up her nose.

“No. That nickname is vetoed. One of my friend’s nicknames is Queenie, and not only will she never let me live it down if she finds out someone called me that, but, just no,” Marinette dramatically shivered. “Most of my friends call me Princess nowadays anyway,” she shrugged. “Adrien started it, and it somehow caught on. It’s too much work to protest at this point.”

“You’re not good with crowds,” the soft spoken woman, Cassandra, decided to add. Marinette winced, shifting on her feet even as she followed the group to the dining room.

“Ehhh. I’ve gotten used to dealing with press and stuff, to a certain degree anyway considering my alias. And wearing my Business persona always helps in consultations. But, I’m not…” Marinette bit the inside of her cheek, clearly a little uncomfortable as she looked around. “The best at… actually talking to people outside of my small group of friends.”

Bruce sighed as most of his kids chuckled or snorted at that. Dick, the oldest but second-shortest of the men besides Tim, came over and draped an arm familiarly over Marinette’s shoulders. He still towered over her though, so he had to slouch a bit to do so.

“Ah, that would be the genetics. Let’s hope you stay where you are at instead of getting as bad at communication as B,” he told her cheerfully. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“What about Damian?”

“He’s even worse!”

“Tt,” said teenager tutted, rolling his eyes as they entered the dining room and he was able to come up to Marinette’s other side. “That was mostly how I was raised before I met Father. I have gotten a lot better than I used to be, Grayson.”

Dick gave him a smile, graciously relieving Marinette of the close contact in favor of rustling Damian’s hair despite the fact that the younger Wayne was taller than him already. “Yes, you sure have! But you still need improvement, baby bird.”

Soon enough, everyone managed to get seated around the large dining table. Bruce insisted that Marinette take one of the seats next to him at the head of the table, across from Damian, since this was her first family dinner. Dick sat next to her, Jason across from him, followed by Tim and Duke on Damian’s side of the table. On the other side of Dick sat Cassandra, and then Stephanie. Alfred served everyone before also taking a seat at the table, on the opposite end from Bruce.

And, true to BatFam tradition, everything was a little awkward for the first minute or two. Marinette didn’t know what to say, and nobody quite knew where to begin. Dick would normally start a conversation, but he was trying to glare into Bruce’s head a silent message of “talk to her, damn it.”

Finally seeming to get it, Bruce cleared his throat and turned to Marinette. “So, I wanted to ask. When do you find out about being my daughter?”

Several people around the table closed their eyes in mourning for Bruce’s social skills. Marinette though, just smiled in slight relief at the decision of how to start talking being taken from her.

“Oh. It was in stages, really. When I was ten, we started our unit in school on genetics. I don’t usually care enough about science to do much more than the school requires, but genetics captivated me for some reason. I researched it almost obsessively at home for a while, almost instantly realizing that there had to be a reason that I had blue eyes when none of the rest of my family did. After a week or two, I found my Maman and Papan’s adoption papers in their room,” she blushed, tugging on one end of her bangs, which she had framing her face since she was wearing her hair down that day. “I uh… I’ve always been a little nosy. I never told them that I found the papers, to me it was just the answer I needed. I didn’t think about it at all after that, and my obsession over genetics went away. It wasn’t until I was thirteen that I decided to look into my birth parents,” Marinette sighed, shoving a bite of food in her mouth to buy her time before continuing. Everyone was focused on her, and it was a little unsettling. Every one of them had a sharper gaze than a normal person, and it made her feel like she was made of glass and everyone else could see right through her. “I was going through a lot, back then. I wanted someone to be mad at, I wanted to be able to blame my DNA for the things that had happened.”

“Things?” Bruce interrupted, back straight and eyebrows drawn down. “What things?” Marinette giggled, tilting her head instead of answering and just letting her eyes study him. Bruce Wayne, Batman, the Dark Knight. Original vigilante of Gotham city, one of the founding members of the Justice League. Famous for his secrecy, intimidating presence, and intelligence. Then she switched her gaze, one by one, to everyone else at the table before leaning back and taking a sip of her soda.

“Do you guys know anything about the situation Paris experienced for four years?” She asked, instead of directly answering. It was Tim who frowned, leaning forward to look at her and reply.

“I heard very vague rumors of weird things, but nothing concrete enough to investigate. What happened?”

Marinette hummed, deciding to sum it up for them. “The short version? When I was thirteen, a classmate of mine spontaneously turned into a giant rock monster and destroyed a good portion of the city. Turns out, that was the first of many attacks by our city’s very own supervillain, Hawkmoth. He had a magical artifact that allowed him to take advantage of anyone’s negative emotions to give them powers and brainwash them into being, essentially, temporary villains that he used for his own means. Two heroes showed up out of nowhere, powered by similar magical artifacts, to combat him and free the people he corrupted. Ladybug and Chat Noir, the original Parisian heroes and the leaders of the team that later had to form.”

Jason frowned, along with everyone else at the table. Finally, it was Duke who asked:

“How did we not know about villains in Paris?” To which Marinette just gave him a dangerously wicked smirk that was far too similar to Damian’s for anyone’s comfort.

“Because I do my job,” she told him flatly, sipping from her cup as everyone stared at her in various amounts of shock. “That’s why finding out that my biological father was Batman made so much sense. That’s why I wanted to find out who my birth parents were. I wanted to blame the heroism on genetics. And, it doesn’t look like I was exactly wrong.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Yeah, that was how her first family dinner and subsequent identity reveal went.

Luckily, considering that Bruce had hired MDC for a pretty long job, Marinette was able to finish school online instead of going back to Paris for it. There was no real need anyway, they had defeated Hawkmoth and gotten Adrien emancipated so for now it was calm in Paris. They didn’t need their heroes anymore, for the time being. This meant that Marinette and Adrien, along with a few employees that helped measure and cut fabric and do secretarial duties they needed help with, got to stay in Gotham while Marinette went back and forth to Wayne manor, Wayne Tower, and back to their temporary home.

After about a month, Marinette was comfortable enough with the Waynes that she found herself lounging in the bat cave as she sketched, though she kept raising her eyes to the glass tubes that held old uniforms. Damian was sat across from her, essentially laying out over two chairs while he played some game upside down on his phone. He might usually be a cold brat, even for a sixteen year old, but even he liked to abuse the way furniture should be used and ignore the world via technology.

But he still caught her constantly wandering gaze.

“You don’t like them.”

“They suck!” Marinette immediately agreed, slamming her sketchbook on the metal briefing table. “Your Robin outfit is the only passable one there is! The colors aren’t even the issue, even high fashion designers can appreciate a good color clash moment. But what was Father thinking?! Putting Grayson in that glorified onesie— why are there no pants?! Jason’s at least as a cape that can cocoon his body and prevent anyone from seeing the disaster beneath. I should thank Tim for at least upgrading the suit to having pants, but he still kept the outside-underwear look that I cannot forgive. The attempt at fashion, though, is appreciated. Disappointing, but appreciated.”

“That pretty much sums them all up,” Damian quipped, getting a snort of amusement out of his sister. Maybe that was one thing he had grown to like about her. She didn’t reprimand him for his sense of humor, and usually she even laughed along. The more morbid humor would get a playful shove and a glare, but no real animosity. And she understood him on a different level, too. One he appreciated even more.

“You said, yesterday, that the Cure brings back everyone who dies during a Miraculous-related incident,” Damian spoke up again after a moment, pointedly not looking at her. “Did you ever count?”

Marinette, this being one of the reasons he was quickly growing fond of her, immediately understood. She sighed, closing her notebook. She might have only been two years his elder, but she had had what felt like a lifetime of more experiences than he did, usually in the friendship and social department though. They were roughly equal in their heroism experience, which was weird to think about, but Damian still valued her input. It was different from the rest of the family.

“It was different in Paris than it would be for anyone else. I didn’t keep track of the number of people who died,” she finally answered, taking her hair out of its work bun and running her hands through the midnight black locks. “But I kept track of how often. Since nobody remembered their deaths, I guess I felt it was my responsibility to remember my failures for them. My former best friend, Alya. Over the course of those four years, she died seventeen times. Her boyfriend, Nino, died fourteen. The Mayor died three times. Chloe, my current friend and former bully, died twenty-two times,” she grimaced at Damian’s shocked expression, nodding grimly. “During those first two, maybe two and a half years, she was one of the primary Akuma targets. She was still either an active bully or in the beginning of trying to change for the better, so she caused a lot of negative emotions everywhere she went. Things got better once she matured a bit, though. Anyway, there’s this girl I used to babysit. Manon. She died five times before she was even ten years old,” Marinette shook her head, that look of age and exhaustion that Damian saw in every Wayne and every hero he had ever fought with seeping into her eyes. “My parents, they died thirty-seven times. They were constantly worried about me, and ran into danger on several occasions trying to find and keep me safe. But I could never tell them who I was. I physically could. I had the power to sit them down and say; Hey, I’m Ladybug. Stop running out and getting yourselves killed. But I never did. I valued my identity first. So I usually ended up seeing, in the middle of a fight, one or both of them squished under falling debris. Or drowned. Frozen solid. Burned alive,” she paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “So no. I don’t understand what it was like for you, to count bodies as you felled them. But hell, if it doesn’t feel like I should. Logic doesn’t mean much in the face of emotion, especially guilt. I know I didn’t kill the people I care about, but every single one of their deaths weighs on me like I was the one that caused it.”

Damian nodded, and they shared a few moments of peaceful, contemplative silence as they both ruminated on their less than pleasant memories without fear of being yelled at for what those memories contained.

“But, I do have a secret,” she admitted softly, attracting her brother’s emerald-eyed attention again. The normally cheerful woman was much more subdued even than before, sapphire irises self conscious and vulnerable, which was rare. She licked her lips, even more rare considering her love of her light pink lipstick, and moved off her chair so that she was, instead, sitting on the cold stone floor. Without hesitation, Damian joined her.

“Technically, it didn’t happen. It was a timeline that my friend, the one who I gave the snake Miraculous, essentially erased when he reversed time. But I remember it even though I shouldn’t. How could I forget?”

“You took a life,” Damian whispered, grimacing in empathy. “First time?”

“And the second, and the fifth,” she admitted. “Viperion had to try seven times before I stopped repeating it. But it was always the same person, back during our final battle. I killed Gabriel Agreste seven times. But nobody but me and Luca will ever remember.”

Damian and Marinette both knew it wasn’t the same as Damian’s childhood. They both knew that they would likely never fully understand one another’s trauma. Not the nuances of it. But they did understand the important parts, the broad strokes. Despite their vastly different lives, they understood the big parts that shaped one another.

That was why Damian took to her so quickly. If he had been younger and still bratty, naive, and angry at everything, then it would be a different story entirely. But he was matured, more willing to let himself feel sympathy. And that made the difference.

“You never forget the first person,” he remarked.

“No matter the age or timeline,” she agreed. “I saw how hard it was to stop. How sickeningly addictive it can be, but I hate what it makes me more than I like how it feels.”

“... me too,” Damian whispered. “Me too.”

—*—*—*—*—*

“Wooo!” Marinette cheered as she flew through the air, her hands latching onto Dick’s. There was no audience, but there didn’t need to be. Just the two of them, doing a routine that they’ve been working on during the few chances they had for the past several weeks. Marinette had never done trapeze before Dick helped her learn, but her time swinging through Paris streets helped tremendously alongside her general Gymnastics experience.

Marinette and Dick flipped through the air, swinging from bar to bar, Dick occasionally catching and tossing her again. They soared through the air, both curling through two flips before landing on their respective platforms with matching wide smiles. Marinette, chest heaving a bit since she was slightly out of shape (meaning that she wasn’t at all out of shape, only out of practice when it came to swinging through the air for any length of time. There’s a difference). She met Dick on the floor, who proceeded to ruffle her hair happily.

“That was awesome! Looks like you finally got the routine down,” he praised. She laughed, elbowing him.

“I bet I’m better on the balance beam,” she challenged, making Dick grin widely.

“Oh you are on!”

—*—*—*—*—*

“Ya ever died before?” Jason asked, making Marinette chuckle.

“Two-hundred and eighty-seven times.”

“You started as Ladybug at thirteen, right?”

“Yup. No training or mentor for the first year either.”

“Yeah, then that sounds about right. Wanna go break all the traffic laws?”

“Only if we take your bike.”

“Fuckin’ Duh. What else?”

—*—*—*—*—*

“You stalked Adrien?” Tim asked, smirking that insufferable smirk of his. Marinette groaned, flopping back onto the sofa.

“No! I didn’t mean it that way, anyway. I just took a lot of pictures and spied on him.”

“Yup. You’re Bruce’s kid,” he remarked, tapping away at his laptop. Marinette narrowed her eyes.

“You have noooo place to judge, Mister ‘Dick Grayson is the only person alive who can do four somersaults in the air!’ And ‘Yes, I‘ve known that you are batman since I was eight. Look at all these pictures I took when I— what was your terminology again?”

Tim rolled his eyes, but a grin was peeking through. “Yeah, yeah.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Four months later, and Marinette was staring down at all the garment bags she had painstakingly filled. Outfits for every single one of her new family members. It took a while, but they were ready for the Wayne Gala. Adrien slung am arm over her shoulder.

“You’ve outdone yourself again, Princess,” he praised, grinning at the array of coveted outfits they were about to transport. “But one teensy weeny, tiny little thing.”

“What is it, Chaton?”

Adrien grinned. “Do you have a dress for yourself? Bruce invited you, too, didn’t he?”

Marinette’s face drained of color, right as a knock sounded on the door. Adrien, seeing as Marinette was so far into Panic Mode that she could not be reached at the moment, went to open the door. A second later, plastic was all Marinette could see. Blinking, she raised her head.

It was Cass, holding out a pink garment bag with Marinette’s name on it.

“Thought you would forget,” was all the other woman offered as explanation. Marinette, after gaping for a moment, slowly took the bag from her. Cass smirked. “Present from WE.”

Marinette laughed.

“You guys are the best.”

—*—*—*—*—*

@momothefemur @ladybug-182 @starlightshield @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @sam-i-am-0222 @bluesimani @ruelukas22 @acoolspacegirl

#mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat #b!dbwm2020 #bio dad bruce wayne #Day Three #platonic Brucinette #Platonic Daminette

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bluegarners · 3 years

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Oooh for the bingo card can I pick survivors guilt with dick feeling guilty cause he ran away from home just like Jason but he lived while Jason died 😢

ahhh sorry this took awhile to get to!! i hope you enjoy this though~ requested for my Bad Things Happen Bingo ; it is also on ao3

Survivor's Guilt

The days bleed into one another to the point where it’s almost offensive, how indistinct and indiscriminate each sunrise and subsequent sunset is. A little boy died and the world carries on like nothing happened. Like his life was nothing less than the lawn being mowed or a tree being cut down. Is there an analogy Dick’s forgetting about, comparing dead children to nature? He’s not sure, he’s just tired, and the days continue to bleed into one another.

Monday is actually Thursday and Dick looks in the mirror and traces the bruise on his face. There’s a line in the fading purple blob that’s just the slightest bit darker. Knuckle indents. He saw it coming but he didn’t do anything. It was… just a punch. He applies some ointment and looks away. A little boy died and he’s still taking care of a tiny little injury, hardly an injury, it’s nothing, it’s nothing, because-

It’s four in the evening and Dick just woke up. It’s not a good habit to fall into, to sleep so late, do so little, think about dead little boys and missed funerals, but Dick can’t help it. Sometimes, he loses time within the bleeding days, just sits down for a moment and then an alarm goes off to remind him that it’s morning now and that he should be getting up to do… something. Go somewhere. Take care of things. But what? But what? Dick only just sat down, it doesn’t seem fair for the world to demand he be pulled this way and that when it already took a child, already took someone that never graduated tenth grade.

What do people learn in tenth grade? They’re just children, and Dick can’t remember much from his Gotham Academy days, so he really hopes they aren’t put under too much pressure. They’re all just so young, tenth graders, so young and youthful and there’s really no reason for them to be bogged down with work or stress from education. Life was infinitely more important than some late homework and Dick wonders if the school requires missing assignments from dead children. Wonders what they do with that extra, empty desk or the absent name on the roster. Wonders if they just shove another kid into their place, cross out the name for attendance, and carry on like the rest of the world seems to have.

What’s more, what do the friends of the dead child do? Do they mourn? Mourning seems so sad for the young, it's got no place in their view, and yet Dick remembers mourning, grieving when he was just nine but it was all so wrong. Dick hopes that the friends of the dead child are okay. Dead child. Dead little boy. Dead tenth grader.

He heard the funeral was nice. Heard that the school hosted a vigil. Of course, he wasn’t able to attend. Wasn’t extended the invitation to attend, but it’s not about him. It’s about the dead boy.

Dick has never been comfortable with children. Not in the sense that he finds them strange or annoying or that he can’t stand youth. He’s just not comfortable with the sheer light, with people who possess so much of it that it literally oozes out in all the things they do. Leaks out from their innocent smiles, their troubled and off-handed questions, their zest for adventure, yearning for dreams so much larger than themselves, their endless compassion for others, their infinite amount of crushes, their worry about deadlines and asking someone out on a date, their constant need to keep up with trends of the day; so many light things that Dick hasn’t touched in so long. So many things he feels like he shouldn’t be allowed to touch.

You were lucky.

Was he? Dick doesn’t think he was, but then again, he’s not a dead little boy with a specially made coffin to fit his small, under-developed, never got the chance to reach a growth-spurt, body. Being Batman’’s partner was terrifying. He remembers it being scary, not knowing if he was going to live through the night or if Batman was going to go off on another rampage because Dick screwed up. Not knowing if screwing up as Batman’s partner meant no longer being welcomed as Bruce’s ward.

How many times has it been now? Twice? Three times?

A key is gone from his chain now and its missing weight burns holes in all of Dick’s clothes. It’s a finality that feels just as permanent as the dead little boy’s gravestone.

A size six and a half pair of sandals sit on the edges of Dick’s tiny balcony. He has a no shoe policy in his apartment, hardly cleaner than the streets below, but it was the principle that counted right? No muddy boots, no dirty sneakers, no rain logged socks, none of that. So Dick keeps a pair of size six and a half sandals on his balcony in case a size six and a half wearer decides to waltz in.

Dick wears a size eleven.

He’ll have to get rid of them at some point. There’s no reason for them to stay there, collecting dust or peeling away whenever it rains. They weren’t even that good of a pair, just some knock off brand he found at a convenience store once, so keeping them for their worth isn’t that important. He spent the entirety of seven dollars on them, so really, he’s not strapped for cash and he can’t wear them himself and he’s sure that some homeless kid or anyone really would be happy to have them. He could just donate them, throw them in a box and leave it outside for the trash to pick up. He could. He could.

He can’t.

They aren’t his. They belonged to someone, someone very important, and he can’t just throw them away. You don’t throw away a dead little boy’s shoes just because they can’t wear them anymore. His parents always taught him to respect the dead, respect their belongings, and those sandals aren’t his so he’s got no say in what to do with them. It’s fine if the dead child’s shoes stay out on Dick’s balcony. It’s fine. He doesn’t go out there much anyway. The shoes are so tiny, only a size six and a half, and Dick can hardly get half of his foot in a size so small and they belong to a dead boy anyway so he shouldn’t touch them. Shouldn’t touch the dead child’s shoes.

He’s distancing himself on purpose. It’s a lot easier to say a dead little boy, a dead child, than it is to admit a name belongs to such a ghastly title. There are so many other words, so many other titles infinitely more fitting for a child than dead, and yet it’s the only one that describes him in this moment. Dead. Gone. Passed.

There used to be a box shoved away in the back corners of his closet. A cramped and banged up cardboard box containing every memory he had from being Robin. There used to be a picture of his parents in there, a cracked glass frame and a stained photo all he had left from Haly’s; there was his old costume from the circus, the same one he wore on the night where the sawdust turned black and he learned what sounds a body makes when it hits the ground; there was a small photo album in there too, pictures Alfred took of Dick’s time at the Manor, of his time as Bruce’s ward. Sometimes he’ll flip through its pages and feel that sting in his eyes, feeling the ghostly fingers of longing cradle his head through each memory every pristine photo contained.

And, most importantly, in that old, worn out, and beat up cardboard box, was Robin. Red, green, and yellow. Shorts and a velcro cape. Boots he doesn’t know how he ever fit into. A vest that would be impossible to get around his shoulders now. The crest, the emblem. Robin.

It was supposed to stay in that box. Remain there for the rest of his days, leave behind a child soldier and trade it out for a freelancer looking for a new war to fight. A new landscape to reshape and hone as his own. But then another little boy, taller than when Dick started out, appears in the night and leaps and frolics and laughs by Batman’s side. Stands over Gotham and gloats and jeers and grasps Robin almost perfectly.

And for the first time, Dick understands the horror that plowed into every other superhero out there when he first debuted as Robin. Understands the numbing terror of the thought of a child, someone who probably didn’t know how to do calculus or read Shakespeare or tie their shoes correctly, out there fighting the dirtiest and darkest sides of the world. That someone with a shoe size of six and a half was out there punching rapists, getting up close with drug lords and traffickers, witnessing and investigating crime scenes and analyzing gore and blood spatters.

Just a child. Just a little boy.

It feels wrong. So, so wrong, to give his blessing to someone who’s just barely hit puberty. Who’s still struggling to perfect a Robin cackle or speak without his voice cracking and pitching wildly. It’d make him a hypocrite not to though. He was younger, so much younger, when he started out as Robin, so who is he to stop an almost teenager from being Robin?

Well, actually, Dick is an adult. His frontal lobe is completely developed, he can pay taxes, drink, vote, organize his own affairs, drive, buy cigarettes, make his own decisions. Help others make decisions. Jas- the dead boy was just that. A boy. He had no idea how to do any of those things, much less think about them for the next few years, so how can he just allow a child to decide if they want to traumatize themselves, bleed themselves dry, for a city that doesn’t love them and devote themselves to a man’s mission that hasn’t changed in over a decade?

But even if he hadn’t given his blessing, the boy would have been Robin anyway. Remember? Dick has no say in anything to do with Robin. Anything to do with Gotham. No, all that was taken away the moment he stepped out of line, stepped out of the conformity and obedience Batman demanded. The blessing… it was just a formality for something Dick had never wanted to continue. Robin was supposed to disappear with him, die with him leaving Gotham, and yet…

Robin died anyhow.

There’s a dead little boy that used to be named Robin buried in a cemetery with a beautifully carved gravestone that just wanted the child to rest in peace, sleep well, and dream of a better life. And Dick gave his blessing for him to die as Robin.

The days still bleed into each other, melting and drifting over and mixing until the sunrises and sets in the same minute. Dick keeps losing time and people keep calling him but he just forgets to pick up the phone to answer. He can’t help but stare at his balcony, can’t help but stare at the empty space in the box, can’t help but listen to his own heartbeat and watch the way his chest expands as his lungs do.

He is alive. Alive when he probably shouldn’t be.

Robin was not meant to last. Dick has told himself that over and over again, the clear and simple fact that Robin was not meant to carry on. Born through the same circumstances as Batman, Robin was supposed to be nothing more than a temporary outlet but Dick got addicted and now he can’t stop. Now his thoughts loop around and around and all he can think about is a dead child wearing his Robin uniform and running out in the night with his blessing.

You were lucky.

Bruce was right. He was lucky. Lucky beyond belief that he survived being Robin. Lucky he stuck around long enough to learn what he needed to and then some under Batman’s tutelage, only to be fired and leave a gaping hole behind that was just calling for a replacement. Screaming for someone to fill the void, beckoning the ears of the young and naive to answer its call. Of course a child would answer. Of course someone eager and looking for love and praise and meaning would find their way there.

And perhaps Dick used up all the luck, all the magic, Robin gave. Used it all up and without a care in the world for who would be next to wear the cape, parade the emblem, because now there’s a dead little boy in the ground and his blood stains Dick’s hands.

Maybe if he had died as Robin instead, died in those early days where he was nine and filled with moxy undeserved, it would have served as warning enough to stay away from Batman. Stay away from Robin. Stay away from the beckon of being a child soldier. And, really, it wouldn’t have been all that bad if he had died so young. If he had died after Zucco was found because then he would have been with his parents, would have been reunited with his family again.

Dick isn’t sure he believes in the after life, if there are places like Heaven and Hell, but sometimes he hopes there is because there is a dead little boy in his arms and he is desperate for the hope that he has a good place to go to. To move on to.

But Dick’s not dead, still very much alive and breathing through working lungs with blood pumping through his veins, and now he’s not only outlived his time as Robin, but the next as well. He has outlived a child.

How do you outlive your own legacy?

He can’t call the dead child his brother. They’re not, legally, and Dick didn’t bond with him like brothers should. He tried, tried to after the initial shock and horror, bought size six and a half sandals, helped with homework, lent an ear to vent to, but it wasn’t enough.

Somehow, a dead little brother is so much worse than a child and Dick can’t give him another title to cling to. Can’t assign another name and still…

Jason is dead. Dick missed his funeral, missed it all, and his name is Jason Todd and he was only fifteen when he died and god, Dick wishes he had been a better brother. Wishes so badly he had never given his blessing, never lived through being Robin, because that would mean Jason would have never had to die and he would be in Dick’s place, simply breathing and alive and that’s… that’s all he can ask for.

The days continue to bleed into each other and the bruise slowly fades away into his skin.

The sandals remain on the balcony.

#bad things happen bingo #survivor guilt #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Jason Todd is Robin #Robin #Nightwing #tw: canon death #i posted this same thing earlier but i thought i lost the ask for it #turns out it was just buried #fanfic #my fic

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artxyra · 4 years

Text

The Secret Life of MDC | Part 3

Part 3 - Welcome to Gotham, now get out!

Part 1 | Part 2 |

Arriving in Gotham was just an absolutely massive mess, that quickly turned into a several page report for Marinette to send to the school board the moment she arrived in her temporary dorm at Gotham Academy.

Let recap back to the airport. When everyone got off the plane, Lila was quick to make up an excuse about Bruce Wayne sending her a private limo that she’ll be happy to bring the class along. Of course, Caline Bustier, absently believed the long-time liar telling her students to gather their belongings and for Lila to call the Waynes. It was as if she had completely forgotten the arrival procedures. Arriving in Gotham, proceed to find the bus driver, and meet up with the Gotham Academy Headmistress to retrieve the rest of the plans for the month. Marinette tried to tell Caline that what they were doing was against the procedure, something that she had to memorize for moments like this, only to be lectured about behavior the second she finished talking off to the side.

Then when they finally arrived at the school, Caline had the nerve to lecture her again about not informing her about the bus before being dragged off by the Gotham Academy headmistress, who clearly was not happy with the decisions made before they could even step foot onto the school grounds. Gotham is not a place to dilly dally unless you know the area or a native.

“Do you think, she’ll be fired after this?” Chloe asks while setting her things into the wardrobe as Marinette clicks the save button on her laptop.

“Maybe, no matter what happens, we’re here for a month regardless of the decisions the GA headmistress and Principal De La Fontaine decides in the coming days. All I know as the class president and temp. TA; my job is to help her overlook you guys.” Marinette sighs and closes the laptop's top before giving Chloe her full attention.

“I still can’t believe you graduated early. Though Adrien and I are grateful you managed to stay despite everything.” It was rare moments like these that made Marinette glad that she gave Chloe a second chance. Chloe had apologized one winter when she was freezing to death outside because her parent went on a tropical vacation on her request and decided to allow the staff to take a few days off. It was Sabine and Tom that took the former bully into their arms and made her feel loved, a love that she rarely receives from her parents. Since that day, Chloe takes pride in the honor of being Marinette’s sister just as Adrien did when they took him in also.

“I couldn’t leave you guys to perish in that class. Also, I just didn’t want to give Lie-la the satisfaction of winning.” Marinette says as her phones with the familiar sounds of “The Other Side” by Ruelle. Instantly, Marinette picks up the phone and smiles. “It’s Damian, he wants to go out tonight. Think I have time before—”

“Go, I’ll keep you from trouble, maybe even invite Adrien over if he isn’t doing the same with Jon.” Chloe pushes the noirette out of their room before closing the door behind the designer with a smirk on her lips.

As Marinette makes her way out of the dormitory, little did she know that Lila was just doing the same but for a different reason.

~*~

Damian Wayne @therealbloodheir I had a wonderful night with my beloved. I can’t wait for more nights like these. [Attached is an image of two hands intertwine with each other with the moon shining between them.]

Nette @GothamsFashionSense Replying to @therealbloodheir That sounds like a marriage proposal. Missing you too.

~*~

In the halls of Gotham Academy, conversations buzz around the single fact that Nette was back in Gotham for the first time in weeks. Groups of students gather around a single person, whose phone is out in the open, all gushing about theories on how the date went.

The same can be said for GA’s exchange students who crowd around Lila Rossi like she was the air.

“Gurl, spill, how was the date? You’re tending on twitter, again!” Alya squeals, gripping Lila’s arm.

“Oh you, it was truly romantic. Damiboo took me on this romantic dinner, but the first place we went to didn’t serve any vegetarian meals, and as you know I’m one but he’s not. We left and found another place that was just right.” Her high pitch voices drive a shiver down people spines, well anyone that is in clear hearing distance to the Italian teen's voice range.

“Do they truly believe that she’s Nette. Bitch please, we all know that Nette has dark hair from the back of the head photos on twitter.” A random student scoffs behind the trio.

The trio turns around looking at the person in a new light. The student had long braided blonde hair and wearing the GA uniform. “You’re not fooled? I was pretty sure that she would try and convert you the moment you step foot into the building.” It was Adrien that spoke first.

“I'm Allegra, besides me is Claude and Allen.” The student says shaking hands with Adrien before continuing with, “Anyone with brain cells can tell you that she is not Nette from @GothamsFashionSense.”

Allegra then takes the empty seat beside Marinette.

“Name’s Marinette, these dorks are Adrien and Chloe.” Marinette says, “About the brain cell thing, we’ve been saying that since she joined our class a few years back.”

“It ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, as to how they manage to hang on her every word. And one of them is a self-proclaim reporter. The bitch hasn’t reported anything remotely true since the liar had joined us and don't get me started on her early years.” Chloe places her two cents into the conversation.

This was the start of a blooming relationship.

Claude, Allegra, and Allen were quick to understand the environment that the Paris Trio was living in. An irresponsible, enabling teacher and a class full of idiots. With the Gotham Trio, the Paris Trio was able to understand how Gotham Academy works and learn the ins and outs of specific places. Despite the fact that Marinette vaguely knows just about much.

~*~

“So, how were your first three days at GA?” Dick Grayson asks as the Paris trio who are sitting on the couch inside the living room of Wayne Manor. "Is it about the same as it was when I went?"

“Dicky, I am this close to making heads roll.” Chloe’s fingers are teaching as a look of crazy twitches in her eyes.

“It wasn’t all that bad the first couple of days and then Lila tried to convince GA students that she was me by photoshopping our twitter photos. Other than that, I’m more worried about when Bustier announces that our class has been invited to the upcoming Wayne Gala. I’m already booked with mine and Chloe’s dresses along with Selina’s and Cass’s.” Marinette says, resting her head on Damian’s shoulder as their hands' interlock. Damian places a quick peck on her forehead.

The room was once again oddly silent before Adrien let out a loud giggle.

The family turns to the model who was staring at his phone with the biggest smile on his face. Adrien was no doubt in a group chat with Luka and Jon about upcoming meetings and plans.

“What?” Adrien asks, looking up to the group of extended family members staring at him. They all quickly look away, some whistling while others mess with the person they are next to. “Seriously guys, what?” The whining in Adrien’s voice just made it harder for them to pretend to do something as they hold in a laugh.

“Nothing,” Marinette snickers as Damian brings to play with her hair by braiding strands of it. She always liked it when Damian messed with her hair, he sometimes does something nice, surprising everyone with his styling skills.

“Hey, Pixie-Pop and Pixie-Pop’s friends. When did you guys get in?” It’s Jason, to which majority had forgotten about even though Tim was a close second as he is hovering over a half-full cup of coffee trying to stay awake but isn’t with them in reality. Maybe Marinette should make her special concoction that would knock anyone out for quite some time.

“Hey Mari, can you make the switch?” Dick whispers in the designer’s ear. Marinette huffs agreeing to the older sibling’s request. Damian nearly groans as his girlfriend gets off his lap and walks into the kitchen.

Marinette comes out nearly ten minutes later with a steaming coffee mug in hand. She walks over to Tim and pushes his cup out of his hand and replaces it with hers. Tim, absently, takes a sip. Within seconds he is knocked out, cold.

“I’ll never not be amazed at how fast your drink can knock Tim out,” Dick says as he picks up Tim and exits the room. Marinette shrugs and takes her seat next to Damian.

“When does Cass get back from her trip?” It was Chloe who decided to break the silence between them.

“Before the gala, that’s for sure,” Jason answers as he pulls out the controllers for the game console. He gives Marinette a knowing look, who smirks with mischief in her eyes. He should know better than to play against Marinette.

~*~

It was times like this that made Marinette wish that the school board had investigated Mlle. Bustier years ago, like for example when the liar first tried to get her expelled in college. Yeah, that was such a long time ago.

Today was supposed to be an easy-going day, but for some reason, Lila managed to convince the teachers, Mlle. Bustier specifically, to allow the class to visit a nearby street mall. Mlle. Bustier, of course, agrees despite the GA teachers telling her that it was a bad idea to let the student go out unsupervised in a place they still don’t know much about. Caline laughs it off stating that they’ll be fine, and it’ll be just like walking down the streets in Paris. That added another dash to her inability to be a proper teacher.

Which brings us to the street mall. Lila was going into stores left and right proclaiming to be Damian Wayne’s girlfriend or stating that she is the niece of some high profile celebrity in hopes of getting free or discounted items. That doesn’t dwell well seeing as Gothamites are not as gullible as Parisians.

The Paris Trio along with the GA Trio watch the mess that she was drumming up from afar. Chloe had invited Allegra to join them which then extended to Claude and Allan who wanted to go for the arcade.

Lila even had the nerve to ask Adrien to join her and Alya shopping trips with the underlying message of making him pay. Once being denied on numerous occasions, Alya managed to steal Nino’s wallet in hopes of paying for all their stuff. Yeah, that didn't help their relationship status.

“Alya I told you that money wasn’t for you,” Nino screams into his girlfriend’s face as she tries to come up with an excuse. He was infuriated.

“Nino, baby, if you love me you would have just given me the money. Lila really needed those items for her date with Damian.”

“I don’t care about Lila’s need; she is not my responsibility. In fact, neither are you, Alya. You just spent the money I had saved up for this trip.” Nino had wanted to go into a DJ shop that sold the equipment he wanted and started saving the moment the trip was announced the year before.

“Stop bitching, it was only a couple hundred dollars.”

Oohs and side-eyes make up the crowd they were drawing. It was a free drama tv for them.

“Ooh what do we have here, a lovers quarrel? Now would be the perfect time to spring my new trap.” Suddenly, it was like time freezes.

~*~

Chloe B. @QueenBeeOfParis The best thing about my idiotic classmates is television drama. #savemefromthem

Tina @thepinkmistress I was finding my own business when this shit happens. [Attach is a video clip of a couple arguing and goons dress in green takes over the streets]

Tim Drake’s Bish @rachelcovefe The nerve of this group. Just finished my shift only to be told by some foreigner that she was @GothamsFashionSense like bish please I know you ain't her. #anotherdayingotham

Kimmy @kimmyontheblock Replying to@rachelcovefe OMG same but she then added in that she was Jagged Stone's niece. Um excuse you but we all know that it's @MDCfashion

Mari Needs Coffee @MarinetteMemes So the first relaxing day in Gotham ruined by the Riddler and Lie-la’s fanatics. Yup, so good to be back. #memescomingsoon #goodgrief #imabouttoheadout

Part 4 >>

Tag List: *View my Tagging System guidelines for how to to be properly tagged or removed.

Note: The SPECIFIC Tag list is officially closed. If you wanted to follow the story please mark the tag fic:The Secret Life of MDC.

#daminette #maribat #teacher assistant au #teacher assistant Marinette AU #ta marinette #fic:The Secret Life of MDC #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dc crossover #ml crossover #damimari

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justcourttee · 3 years

Note

New prompt idea! Following the defeat of Hawkmoth, Jason is terrified of the idea of Bruce adopting the sunshine child that is Adrien (that and all the puns that the boy makes... Adrien can't meet Dick!!!). He, alongside Damian, decide to try to get Selina to adopt a new cat instead. Unfortunately for everyone (except Adrien), Jon tags along. AdriJon for the ship and maybe Marinette being having a sibling relationship with the Wayne children?

I’m back to writing and when I saw this prompt, I was so excited. If it hasn’t been hinted at enough in some of my pieces, I adore AdriJon. I hope you like it! @elements1999

Stupid Lovestruck Jon

As Gabriel Agreste was drug from his front gates, the crowds surrounding the manor erupted in yet another round of cheers. Even with the hero’s help, the police had trouble keeping them back. Jason and Damian stood on the edge, both wearing matching grim expressions under their hoods and glasses.

“You know what this means D?”

Damian nodded solemnly, the scowl on his face deepening as Gabriel disappeared from their view.

“Father mustn't meet Agreste until we have found a suitable host family for him.”

The idea of Dick and Adrien bonding over stupid puns and forcing Jason and Damian to join in on family game nights was enough to send shivers down the two Wayne’s backs. There was no question about it, Adrien could not be allowed to be adopted.

“What do you think Selina would say if we brought her a kit?”

Damian shifted his gaze to Jason’s face, doing his best to hide his shock that Jason could come up with a coherent idea.

“I believe she would enjoy Plagg very much, Adrien though? Well, that would take some getting used to. How do you propose we get the two to meet?”

Jason’s face darkened quickly.

“It’ll be risky, but we invite them to America. After all, he’s going to need an escape from the media.”

“Perhaps Metropolis?”

The boys nodded as if that was the most logical sentence before both heads snapped up, their eyes widening at the sight of the petite hero that had landed between them. Marinette threw her arms around the boys’ shoulders, dragging them down to her own height.

“There is only room for so much sunshine at the Wayne estate. Dick has monopolized all of it and for the sake of not only you but myself as well, Adrien needs a more stable parental figure than Bruce Wayne. Not that my first choice would be Selena, but I know that she has a soft spot for orphans, no matter what she says.”

Both boys tried to wrestle their way out of her grasp, but it was nearly impossible with Tikki to help her.

“Here’s how it will go. I will go to help the police finalize anything they need for this arrest and you will trail Chat Noir until he decided to transform back. I want to be there as well, but unfortunately, the police aren’t exactly understanding when it comes to personal relationships.”

With a nod, the sound of two smacks echoed as she disappeared into the sky, the only trace of her being matching red spots on both of the Wayne’s necks.

“I really despise when she does that, no matter how much I want to be impressed.”

Jason chuckled as he nudged Damian forward, both of them slipping into the nearest building to change before anyone from the media could catch sight of the American’s on the scene of what would become known as the greatest arrest in Paris’ history.

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

“You know, I caught the trail of you following me a couple of blocks back. You don’t have to stay hidden.”

Damian let out a small string of curses as he stepped out from behind the chimney and into view of the black cat.

“I hate magic.”

Adrien chuckled as he waited for Jason to step out from the other side, both boys looking a little sheepish that they had been caught.

“Did Marinette ask you to follow me? Cause that sounds like something she would do. Really, I’m fine guys. Once we started the investigation, so much more began to make sense. He wanted to disguise the fact that he was selfish, wanting just my mother for himself, no matter the consequence. Even if it meant sacrificing me..”

Damian swallowed awkwardly as he glanced between Jason and Adrien. Thanks to Dick’s persistent pestering, he had gotten slightly better at reading emotions and watching his tongue, but this was uncharted territory and as much as he hated to admit it, he had no idea what to do.

Adrien let out a shaky laugh as he stood, brushing off the imaginary dust from his suit.

“Whatever, so what is Maribug’s master plan for avoiding the press? I know she sent you here to collect me for that very reason, so what could it be?”

Jason cleared his throat as he stepped forward, his smile completely see-through as the worry shined.

“Well, how would you feel about a trip overseas? Metropolis perhaps? You’re a huge Superman fanboy, aren’t you? Well, Dami here is besties with his son and we thought it would be a grand idea for you to have a distraction. What do you say?”

Damian frowned at Jason’s choice of wording. Besties felt a little strong for the relationship that he held with Jon, perhaps tolerable coworkers was better suited?

“Okay.”

Both boys tried to hide their surprised faces. They knew he was desperate for an escape, but his response was still quick for their liking. Honestly, they thought it was going to take a bit more convincing than that.

“Let Marinette know that I’ll be on her balcony whenever she finishes up. I’m sure she has a long night ahead of her and will want to talk to me when she can and guys?” Both boys raised their eyebrows, curiosity, and worry nitpicking their expressions. “Thanks for coming to see me.”

And with that, he leaped off the roof leaving the batbrothers to wonder if Metropolis would be the best idea for the man who effectively was orphaned in one day.

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

“Dami!”

Before he even had a chance to throw his hands up in defense, Jon had already tackled him in a bone-crushing hug much to his annoyance.

“I told you not to call me by that stupid nickname anymore Kent.”

With much effort, Damian shoved Jon off and into Marinette’s waiting arms.

“Aw, but Dami it’s so cute.” The muffled laughter coming from behind him was not helping.

Damian cut his eyes to where Jason and Adrien stood, both chuckling to themselves. He knew it was Jason’s idea to call up Jon to make this impromptu trip more believable for his father, but when breaking it down, Damian wasn’t completely sure that this option was much better than taking Adrien straight to Dick’s side.

“Anyways, I know I’m just the cover story so that you can meet up with Selina and all that, but do you have time to spare? I’d love to show Mari and Adrien around Metropolis! That’s your name, right? Adrien? Mari used to have so many cutouts of you-”

A smack echoed through the airport lobby as Jon found himself in a headlock courtesy of one petite heroine.

“Oh, you wanna bring that up now Jon? I don’t suppose you remember asking for a couple of my magazines for yourself huh?”

There was an undeniable shade of red emitting from under Marinette’s arm, one all three boys noted. A sputtering Jon finally managed to free himself, the red more visible as he gently pushed Marinette away.

“Hey it’s okay, it’s the cost of being a celebrity right?” Adrien reached out, his hand gently brushing Jon’s arm.

A sudden realization hit Damian as he watched his friend jump nearly 100 feet into the air, the red seemingly brighter than before. As Jon linked arms with Marinette, hurriedly leading them out of the airport, Adrien gently coaxing the two to behave, Damian gripped Jason’s jacket pulling the two of them to a stop.

“What do you want brat? We’re gonna get left behind-” With one killer glare, Jason slowly quieted, curiosity seeping into his expression.

“Jason, is uh- does Jonathon- does he see guys as viable mates?”

There was a slight pause and for a moment, Damian felt a bit relieved that perhaps he was not the only one to fail to notice such a thing about the Kent boy. But the moment ended abruptly as Jason erupted in laughter, drawing the attention from some passing by.

“What is it you buffoon? People are staring at us, silence yourself, and answer me.”

“Me buffoon? No, no, no” Jason’s laughter slowly ceased, but the shit-eating grin that replaced it did nothing to ease Damian’s nerves. “You see, you are the only idiot here. What is Jon? An animal? His mating preference?”

Damian felt his face heating up as his grip tightened on Jason’s jacket, intent on tearing a small hole in his precious belonging.

“Now Damian, I know you are dense, but Jon has always talked about guys with you. Did you just think they were all besties? That your third-wheeling on his dates where they gave each other like pecks on the cheek or held hands was just because you hate physical contact and his other friends didn’t mind it?”

The more Jason talked, the redder Damian felt his face becoming. Sure he had noticed before, but it never felt like it was something that mattered much. Plus, it wasn’t like Jon had mentioned anything to him about coming along on his supposed dates. How was he supposed to know?

Letting go of Jason’s jacket, Damian huffed after his friends, ignoring his brother’s taunting calls. There was only one thought that was still left on his mind.

If Jon had a crush on Adrien Agreste, this could ruin the whole plan.

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

He was right.

What was implied to be a one day tour ended with them staying a week in Metropolis. And the worst part? Damian was completely powerless to do anything about it.

“Hey enfant démon, you seen my partner or yours for that matter?”

Damian scowled at Marinette as she leaned against his doorframe, her expression as exasperated as he felt.

“I told you to quit calling me that. Just because it’s in French doesn’t make it better heathen.”

Marinette stuck her tongue out at him, remaining firm in her spot as she waited for her answer. With a great sigh, Damian shook his head, glancing from his book to out the hotel window.

“They snuck out sometime early this morning while I was on my run. Jason was supposed to be keeping an eye on them.”

A slight protest echoed through the suite as Marinette shook her head.

“Do you think we’ll ever get Adrien to meet Selina at this rate? I know he needed this break, but I hadn’t expected to be gone this long. I just turned 17, if it wasn’t for Jason here being a technical adult, my parents would have never let me come. I’m honestly surprised that they haven’t shown up to drag me to Paris.”

Damian nodded slightly, his thoughts straying to the idea of an angry Sabine showing up at their hotel. The thought alone was enough to send a shiver down his spine. He opened his mouth, unsure how to respond when he caught the sound of a set of familiar giggles outside the suites’ door.

“We’re home! Marinette! You won’t believe how awesome the sunrise in Metropolis is when you’re so high up. Jon is awesome!”

The boy tried his best to hide his blush as he gently swatted Adrien’s shoulder, earning a giggle from the blonde.

“Okay lovebirds, how about you stop running off without the rest of us? At least tell us where you’re going, is that too much to ask?”

A simultaneous ‘yes mom’ came from the duo as they ducked out of Marinette’s reach, racing down the hallway.

“That’s it, I’m calling Selena right now. Damian, Jason, between the two of you, figure out a way to keep our rebellious teens in check. It shouldn’t take longer than thirty minutes for her to arrive, I’m sure the two of you can manage.”

Jason peeked his head into Damian’s room, his eyebrows raised matching how Damian felt. Did she have any idea how hard it was to hold down a Kryptonian without using Kryptonite? If only she hadn’t banned Damian from bringing it to Metropolis.

With a small huff of annoyance, Damian swung his legs off his bed, placing his book back on the nightstand carefully. This was going to be the longest thirty minutes of his life.

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

“Dammit children, can’t you sit still for one minute!” Jason gripped both boy's collars as he tossed them back onto the couch that they had escaped from.

“Aw, c’mon Jason. I thought you were the fun Wayne! I just want to show Adrien a good time before he had to leave.”

Damian wasn’t sure how much more Jason could take. The vein on his forehead looked like it was about to burst from him resisting beating the two to a pulp. It was honestly a bit satisfying to look at.

“Can you at least explain why we’re on house arrest? The day has just started and we’re already wasting it.”

“I told you already Agreste, Marinette wants you to meet a friend of hers that lives nearby. We can’t have you skipping out before she gets here.”

Adrien sighed dramatically before falling into Jon’s shoulder.

“But waiting is boring!”

Damian felt his nose twitch while staring at the blonde. Honestly, he didn’t know how Marinette was able to keep up with this child-like energy for all the years she had. He was exhausted after a mere thirty minutes.

The sound of the doorknob rattling caught the attention of the four as a collective sigh of relief echoed through the room.

“Well hello there my kittens, long time no see.” Within a split second, Selina was already on top of Damian, pulling him into the biggest hug she could manage.

“Release me you heathen, I do not like being touched!”

Selina giggled as she tightened her hug before releasing him, allowing him to drop to the floor.

“Oh, I know. I enjoy giving you a hard time the most Damiboo.”

Damian cringed at the nickname as he allowed Marinette to help him back to his feet. While Selina was unbearable, he honestly had to applaud Jason for his thought. If anyone could reign in the energy Adrien had, it would be her.

“You must be Adrien. I’m Selina Kyle, so very nice to meet you.”

Adrien swallowed hard as he tentatively reached out his hand to shake hers. No one could blame him, the look on Selina’s face was terrifying as if she was admiring a jewel before shattering it into pieces.

“Now let’s cut to the chase. Do you want to live with me? You obviously need a parent figure in your life, but you also only have a year left until you can be on your own. I know it’s a big change from Paris, but between Zeta tubes and that little horse your friend Marinette carries, you’ll never be too far.”

Damian bit his lip hard, trying not to yell at Selina for her brashness. She was supposed to be gentle and coaxing. Get him to like her, spend the day with him, and then suggest it. Adrien looked as white as a ghost, as expected when someone you’ve only heard stories about shows up in your hotel room with adoption papers.

“Uhm, I don’t really want a guardian. My aunt said she would rent me an apartment wherever I wanted and when the time came for my 18th birthday, she’d sign it over to me-”

Adrien was cut off as Selina placed a finger over his lips, shocking him into silence.

“Honey, I can do that for you. Don’t rely on family who will want to steal your father’s fortune. However, I will have a few conditions.”

Adrien nodded slowly, his eyes glancing around frantically as if asking for help.

“First, you must visit Wayne Manor once a week for a family dinner, I refuse to let you off the hook with no real resemblance of a family. Second, you must rent here in Metropolis where you already have a good person looking out for you. And third, you must force Damian and Jason to participate in these once a week dinners.”

Jason and Damian shouted frantically for him to decline, their plans falling to pieces before them. They only quieted down after Marinette reached back giving them matching red bumps on their foreheads.

“What do you say, sweetie? I can tell you and Jon are already close and I think this would be best for everyone. You had already finished your studies in France so you can take this year to decide what you want to do next in life and I think between the Kents and us, we can help you with that.”

It took less than a minute for Adrien to agree and for Damian and Jason to be bested by two black cats. Selina insisted on lunch to celebrate, dragging Adrien and Jon with her and out the door leaving the three exhausted crusaders behind.

“Well, technically Bruce won’t be the one adopting him.” Marinette shrugged before plopping on the couch, the other two following suit.

“Yeah, but like, we went through all this trouble to stop Dick and Adrien from meeting, and now we will be having weekly dinners with them. Marinette, you are officially forced into this agreement as well.” Jason poked at her side, a small sigh of defeat escaping from his lips.

“Stupid lovestruck Jon.” Marinette and Jason turned their attention to where Damian sat, his arms crossed in annoyance. “I bet if they hadn’t had this week to hang out, Selina wouldn’t have picked up on their stupid crushes. Why do you women always feel the need to meddle?”

The air was silent for a moment before laughter erupted from Damian’s right side. Shaking his head, he couldn’t help the small giggle that came from his own mouth. Stupid Jon, making him attend family dinners with the likes of Dick and Adrien. He was happy for him, not to be confused with the utter annoyance he felt for him at the moment as well.

As they sat there joking about their shared fate and pondering how it could’ve gone differently, one thought was constant across all three of their minds:

Who could’ve planned for stupid lovestruck Jon?

Permanent Tag List

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous @mialuvscats @leagrey @smolplantmum @animegirlweeb @glitterflowercat

#adrijon #maribat #adrien agreste x jon kent

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birdy-bat-writes · 4 years

Text

Damian Wayne - Civilian crime solver

Request: Could you do headcanons or a scenario about Damian with a friend or s/o that is really into mysteries and goes around investigating cases even though they're really in over their head? Bonus points for shenanigans. Thank you!

Of course, amazing Anon! Great suggestion! And hey, why do friends or lovers when we can do both?? ;) I hope you enjoy this!

A/N: Um… My Headcanons are basically just fanfictions with sentences that don’t flow into paragraphs. I split it into 2 parts. I Really liked writing this one though. I love Damian. This one came out kinda angsty though, sorry about that. But it has a sweet ending.

Part 2 here

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- You met Damian when you both were in the sixth grade. He was quite the indignant 11-year-old. Unfortunately for you, this fellow was your lab partner for the year.

- You noticed his distaste for most people, but he didn’t have it with you. You couldn’t have known at the time, but the reason for that was that you were the only person in the room Damian saw as someone of equal intellect. It was the way you were organized and level-headed. You were independent and self-sufficient.

- Truth be told, the only major difference between your mindsets was that you weren’t as cocky.

- Made sense though, since your mother was an environmental toxicologist. Your home was pretty full of science equipment since you could remember. You were always curious as a child, and of course your proud mother encouraged it and taught you bit-by-bit how to use the tools. You idolized her and your father, who passed away when you were younger.

- Over the course of your partnership with Damian, you grew to tolerate each other, and then even enjoy each other’s company. By the time You were both 12, you had a pretty solid friendship.

- You discovered this when he invited you over to his house for his birthday and his family nearly choked, had a stroke, or checked if you were a robot. He had to explain to you that he didn’t bring friends over very often.

- “I made an exception for you because you are far closer to me than anyone else and I enjoy your company.”

- You guys hang out all the time now and talk about personal stuff and just joke about things. It makes you really happy when Damian laughs. He often found himself thinking about how much more often he’s been doing it since he met you.

- “Hey, what do you want to be when you grow up, Dames?”

- “Well, I’d like to follow in my father’s footsteps.” You assumed that meant running Wayne Enterprises. You were half right.

- “I want to be a detective.”

- “Really?”

- “Yeah, like my dad was.”

- “He’d be proud of you.”

- You had a love for forensics and special permission from your chemistry teacher to use the advanced chem lab after school. You were her TA after all, and Damian used that time to sit with you and chat while you worked.

- “Y/N, what are you analyzing?”

- “Um… It’s a mud sample.”

- “From?

- “The Gotham botanical gardens.”

- “Why?” Why are you analyzing dirt from Poison Ivy’s crime scene from last night?

- “Promise you won’t freak out?” He nodded. “I heard on the news that Poison Ivy was using monster plants to terrorize people. And they looked kind of like yellow trumpet vines you find a in the Gotham gardens. I was just checking the dirt for any chemicals that could have altered the plant growth.”

- Damian was stunned and speechless. Something he experienced rarely, if ever. “Y/N, messing with this stuff is dangerous. maybe you should let Batman and the GCPD handle this.”

- “Come on, Dami. Please don’t say that. I want to do this; I want to help people. If I figure this out first, I can tell the GCPD.”

- “I’m just worried for your safety.” He couldn’t deny that your work was brilliant, but he couldn’t let you put yourself in harm’s way either.

- “I’ll be safe, I promise.”

- He ultimately told you it was alright with him if you were careful. What he meant by that was that he was going to spy on you and keep you away from any and everything that was dangerous.

- Robin would follow you to your house from the shadows to make sure you got home safe and Damian would check in with you on your files. As your determination to solve cases increased, his desire to ask you why increased as well.

- “I just think it’s fun, Damian.” Wow you were a bad liar.

- “There’s more to it.”

- “What?”

- “Why are you actually doing this?”

- “Because I want to.” You were sterner this time. Damian noticed and decided to drop it for now. He offered to walk you home like he usually did but you declined.

- That night, you decided to investigate a lead you didn’t tell Damian about. It led you an abandoned building in old Gotham. You were scanning the second floor for anything out of the ordinary until you heard a voice approaching from the corner.

- You ran into the nearest room and hid. The voices were getting closer. “Falcone wants this job done tonight. Don’t f*** up.” You were terrified.

- Suddenly, your mouth was covered by a green gloved hand. You wanted to yell but you heard him shush you. You turned quietly to meet eyes with a domino mask. It was Robin. You didn’t have enough time to process everything that happened but at the end of it all you ended up on the sidewalk next to an ambulance and police cars.

- Deciding you had enough for one day, you headed home.

- The next day at school you seemed quiet and so did Damian. At the end, you walked over to Damian to ask if he wanted to hang out.

- “Not at the lab.”

- “Okay… we can watch a movie if you want.”

- “Alright.”

- “Cool. I’ll just go get my stuff.” He saw you walking in the direction of the lab and something sparked in him. He stopped you.

- “I’ll get it.”

- “What? I can get it. It’s fine.”

- “Just stay here, Y/N.” He was a bit too curt for your liking.

- “Don’t tell me what to do.”

- “Just listen to me for once.”

- “Why are you being like this?!”

- It turned into a yelling match. Damian’s emotions got the better of him and it ended with a “You could have died last night!”

- Tip of the hat to him *clap* *clap*. That’s how you found out he was Robin.

- It made sense really. You shared a heartfelt conversation about how he trusted you but he didn’t want you getting hurt. He knew what it was like out there and he couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.

- You promised to keep his secret and he made a compromise with you; you could help him with forensics for his cases with Batman as long as you never went out into the field.

- Then you went an watched the movie you wanted to.

- “Hey Dames, I need to tell you something.” He turned his head to you. “You had asked earlier why I was so obsessed with the cases… my dad died investigating Falcone’s drug cartel. I guess got a bit too into it… I just thought you deserved to know.” You shared a look of sympathy and for the first time in your friendship, he hugged you. It held for a while, but it wasn’t awkward, just comforting, as if you both said that you were there for each other.

- Skip to the point where your working with him and Batman was normal. Well… as normal as it could get. You and Damian blew the Batcave circuit breaker. Twice.

- You would always get results before Bruce managed to figure out how. Tim liked you specifically because you could make Bruce look very confused.

- You and Damian would pass notes in class in code about new information from cases. It started to make people gossip about you two. It didn’t help that you both always stayed back late together and showed up to class alone, before anyone else.

- It began to scare people because Damian doesn’t bother to spend time with other humans but with you, he like?? Willingly?? Does it??

- You would work late nights with the boys and keep track of how much sleep they each were getting. If anyone fell too short, you sent them up to bed. It actually backfired on you once because you were very sleep-deprived and didn’t want to admit it, so Jason picked you up and dragged you to your room in the manor while Tim and Dick smiled cheekily. “Oh, how the turntables.” ;D

- Damian would sleep when you forced him, but he would still have his days. He believed he was above sleeping???

- This boy refuses to admit he’s tired. Even when he looks like a jittery racoon. So, you bring him hot chocolate in the mornings, (courtesy of Alfred) with a hint of a lot of caffeine (courtesy of Tim).

- Ever since you started spending so much time at the manor, you got much closer with Damian and his brothers. You felt a sense of family and care there.

- Your favorite nights were the ones where your mom would let you sleep over and you would stay late in the cave working with Damian. The serenity of the cave and the faint glow of the computers always made it feel like some alternate plane of existence.

- “Alright, Sherlock, you’ve been obsessed with this case for three days now. Let the computers do their work and take a nap.”

- “Dami, I’m too ‘thinky’ to sleep.”

- “’Thinky’?” you nodded and giggled at your superior use of vocabulary. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

- You detected a hint of mischief in his voice and followed him up the cave staircase to the top of a ledge. He pulled a rope ladder out from behind the ledge and gestured for you to climb it.

- You glanced at him once before hoisting yourself up and climbing onto the rocky surface. You looked up and the sight took your breath away. The ledge was a flat floor of the cave that overlooked the waterfall from the inside. If you looked down, you could see the dancing currents on the lower levels of the cave. The air was misty and cool, and you honestly had no idea that there was a view like this anywhere in the manor.

- “You like it?”

- “Its so beautiful.” You said, your voice full of awe. Damian sat down on the floor, against the cave wall and patted the ground next to him. He wanted to say something. Just regular makings of conversation, like the ones you always had. This time, for the first time, he felt like he didn’t know what to say to you, so opted to look at you.

- The way the water reflected light on the cave walls made patterns of hazy light. The glow hit your skin and made your eyes sparkle. For the first time since he had met you, Damian saw you in a completely new way. He didn’t understand it, but he wasn’t opposed to it either.

- You broke the silence with, “You know, ever since I met you, and your family, I’ve never been happier.”

- You looked back at him. Something about the way he looked at you made you feel butterflies and fireworks all at once.

#damian wayne #Damian al Ghul #damian wayne headcanon #ROBIN BATMAN #robin #damian wayne fluff #damian wayne x y/n #damian x reader #damian wayne imagines #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #damian wayne x reader #batbros #dc comics #dc fluff #headcanons

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dumbkiri · 4 years

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My Universe

Part Three Time Flies

Summary: Jason is struggling to have a starting point in finding the truth. When Clark gives him the chance to figure things out, Damian and [Name] go visit the Kent Farm for two weeks. Within days, the trio (Damian, Jon and [Name]) find trouble when [Name] accidentally teleports them to a random location due to her growing power. Jon and [Name] are tasked with finding Damian.

Pairing: Damian Wayne x HoH! Female! Reader, Jon Kent x HoH!Female!Reader (platonic)

Word Count: 4.1K (you guys deserve a long chapter)

Time was all Jason really wanted in life. He wanted to spend time with Aurora and to grow old with her while raising their only child. He wanted time to slow down and also keep up with him; his own agenda. It was really valuable to him.

“[Name], no,” Jason softly scolded the girl and gave her a disapproving look. She was currently in a [f.color] dress with black flats on. Her hands reached for a frog that was sitting in a pile of mud. She didn’t allow her shoes to go in the mud because she despised getting dirty. But the frog! It needed to go away! And Jason knew that she would eventually fall into the mud if he didn’t stop her.

He began by standing on the opposite side of the puddle and held his hands out to her. Jason caught her attention and he frowned, signing, “You’re going to get your dress dirty.”

[Name] only shook her head and brought her hand down, responding to her father, “No.”

She stood on the tips of her toes and reached for the frog again. The amphibian made a disapproving noise and jumped away from her incoming hand.

This made the five year old girl sigh, but that didn’t stop her from chasing after the frog. Her careless actions gave Jason a heart attack and he chased after her. He never knew how fast a five year old could be. He watched her jump then run with her little legs carrying her closer to the frog. He cursed Wayne Manor for having such a big backyard.

“Todd, what do you think you’re doing!” Damian yelled from the backyard door.

Jason stopped in his tracks and glared at the boy, “Don’t you have eyes, dumbass?” Jason was grateful that [Name] couldn’t hear his obscene vocabulary or his dead jokes. Jason would have continued to glare at Damian, but then he heard a loud cry coming from his daughter. He snapped his neck at the sound and watched [Name] run at him with open arms.

She ran into his legs, her head bumping into his hip. Her face was buried in his clothes and she whined. Then she pointed to the entrance of the maze.

Jason rubbed [Name]'s back and laughed. He kneeled down and signed, “Hey, princess, the maze isn’t scary at all. “

[Name] pouted and looked over at Damian. The green eyed boy was still standing by the door watching them communicate. [Name] then turned to her father and pouted. Her hands moved, “But Damian told me that if I ever go in there I could get lost.”

Jason resisted to throw a hateful glare at Damian. Instead, the older male nodded in understanding, “Right, you can get lost. But I’ll always find you and if not me,” Jason turned his head and gestured to Damian, "then he will."

Damian looked away from their prying gazes although the boy already knew what was said. The green eyed boy was surprised to say the least that Jason admitted he could be one of [Name]'s saviors. To keep her from harm. He wouldn't have argued, Damian knew he could protect her. He knew that he was capable of shielding her.

Damian will always be there for her that much he knew.

…..

Two weeks later and [Name] has aged up 7 years. It was a long process that kept her bedridden for a whole week. Damian was upstairs with Alfred watching over the girl while the other males were down in the cave.

Jason held his head in his hands babying the headache he had for hours. He had his eyes closed and he listened intently to the voices of his family. Their words are filled with questions and doubts.

"If what Jason said is true then we have to make sure Damian doesn't confess to [Name] on her 17th birthday," Tim said with actuality and an unsure tone. The words were an unlikely pair.

Dick nodded his head casting a worried glance at the slumped form in the corner of the Batcave. "Yeah, I'm sure we can handle that," His sarcasm was showing, "but we can't forget that they are soulmates! Meaning that it isn't possible to separate them!"

“We need to figure out how much time we have left because at the rate she is aging up, we don’t have much,” Tim put a hand under his chin in thought.

“We have ten years, right?” Dick looked around for confirmation.

Bruce walked in and shot Dick’s answer down, “No. Damian is 13 years old and looking at the timeline we only have four years left.”

Jason opened his eyes finally getting rid of the visions he's been seeing. The images of Damian's body and the destroyed Justice League. His mind was being plagued with real nightmares. His mind was broken as is, he didn’t need more weight added on.

“The thing is I still need to figure out the Inklopiatian Legend. I have to go back and visit Aurora’s mother,” Jason said and lifted his head up to catch the attention of the family. “Nadia must know what [Name] is because she got a vision from the Elders about her future.”

Tim looked at his computer and it was loading files from the Justice League’s database on alien life. Bruce had contacted Clark about their situation and the Kryptonian said he would come to Gotham today to investigate the young girl. But before Tim could dwell more on Clark and [Name] meeting, Jason’s words caught Tim’s interest.

“Aurora’s mother got a vision about [Name]’s future?”

“Yeah and it isn’t flowers and rainbows, Tim.” Jason didn’t bother using his nicknames for the younger male.

Dick nervously chuckled and pressed Jason for more information, “Is it more like puppies and unicorns?”

Jason exhaled from his nose, “[Name] is going to wipe out the Justice League and Damian is the reason why she does.”

…...

[Name] stared at the big man standing in front of her. He wore one of the nicest smiles she ever saw. Although the unknown man’s smile wasn’t close to being compared to her father’s. The big man knelt down in front of her and [Name] stayed hidden behind Damian’s body.

Clark Kent looked up at Damian and asked the boy if he could get [Name] to introduce herself to him. Damian nodded his head and signed to the younger girl, "This man is Superman. He's kind of like you and he wants to get to know you better. He wants to be your friend."

[Name] let go of Damian's shirt and moved around him. 'He's kind of like me? What does Damian mean by that?' She asked herself and she stood in front of Superman and shyly waved at him.

Clark smiled and waved back then he crouched down to her height. Granted he was still taller than her. He noticed how her aura shined brighter than anyone he has ever met. He knew that she belonged with the night sky glittering along with the other stars.

"My name is Clark Kent. My home is sort of close to your own home. My people got along really well with your people and I believe we can be friends," Clark signed.

[Name] gave him a quizzical look, "My people? Are you talking about my mother's people; the Inklopiatians?"

"Yes, I am. I never met an Inklopiatian before, you would be the first one I've encountered."

"That makes you the first Kryptonian and the last one," [Name] sighed with a frown.

Clark had tensed up at her words. He didn't know she was capable of knowing his situation. Was her powers advancing already?

"[Name], have you noticed anything different about yourself? Any sudden changes?" Clark questioned her. He had to know if anything besides her aging up was different.

[Name] looked at Damian and felt her heart race when he looked down at her with his emerald eyes. She quickly looked away and shook her head furiously with a blush adorned on her cheeks. Clark had chuckled while the remaining boys stared not completely getting why he was laughing. Although Jason knew exactly why Superman was. [Name] has recognized her feelings for Damian.

“No need to feel embarrassed about liking so-”

[Name] pounced on Clark’s hands shielding it with her tiny hands. She slapped his hands and pushed them away from each other. Then she gave Clark a look that said ‘secrets STAY secrets’. Clark understood and patted her head. He looked at Jason and smiled, “I would like for her to stay at the farm for awhile. I can’t really say her powers are advancing without actually seeing what she is capable of.”

Jason ruffled his hair and was very hesitant to say yes. He wanted to spend more time with his daughter yet he needed more time to figure out the truth. Clark was here to give him that opportunity. “Y-Yeah- No. I mean,” Jason groaned and restarted his sentence, “Yes she can go, but with one exception.”

“I get to go as well,” Damian stepped up, bringing the attention to himself.

“What he said,” Jason agreed.

Clark shrugged his shoulders, “That’s fine by me. I’m sure Jon would love to have Damian over.” The Kyrptonian had spoken further with Jason and the other Batboys with the exception of Damian. The boy was helping [Name] pack her clothes reassuring her that they were going to stay with Clark at his farm with his family.

[Name] was excited to go outside of Wayne Manor and meet more nice people. When Damian told her about another boy around their age, she couldn’t help feeling ecstatic. So much so that she accidentally burned a t-shirt of hers. She hid the ashes in her dresser and closed it with a loud shut. Damian looked around and scrunched his nose, ‘Do you smell smoke?’

[Name] looked around and sniffed the air. She definitely smelled the ashes of her tee, but she wasn’t going to tell Damian it was because of her. She was scared of what he might think of her. ‘I don’t smell anything. I’m done packing by the way.’

……

The arrival to Kent Farm was uneventful considering that Damian fell asleep on the ride and [Name] kept busy watching her surroundings. It wasn’t odd that she remembered how to get home just by memorizing how the soil changed or where the stars aligned. She took notice how the scenery changed to city life to absolute nothing besides land untouched.

The sun was beginning to set, changing the sky from blue to orange then to a calming pink. She loved how the sky offered unlimited visions. It may be the changes Mr. Kent explained to her about. Although he said it was very rare for an Inklopiatian to have visions of the past or future. [Name] was getting both vision types.

When she saw the past, it came with colors and pictures. It was different with the future. When she saw the future it was blurry and colorless. She thought it was because the future wasn’t set until someone made an impactful decision.

A tug at a strand of her hair brought her out of her trance. She turned her head away from the window and saw Damian with his eyebrows furrowed, “What were you thinking about?”

[Name] smiled and waved her hand, “I just like looking at the sky.”

Damian unbuckled himself and scooted closer to [Name] then he leaned himself over to see what she was looking at. His hand bumped into hers and he pulled away to sign, “You like looking at the sky too?”

“Yeah, it reminds me of you,” [Name] unconsciously replied and noticed how Damian’s body turned stiff with her response. She panicked and her hands moved to explain further “I mean that the sky is pretty.”

“You’re calling me pretty?” Damian gave her a weird look.

[Name] wanted to jump out of the car, but she knew Mr. Kent would freak out if she did that. “No! Not pretty, but fascinating. I don’t know how to explain it correctly, but whenever I look at the sky it suddenly reminds me of you.”

Damian nodded his head and went back to his seat and buckled himself up. Before [Name] could ask why he likes looking at the sky, he turned his head away from her and looked out his window. [Name] imagined herself facepalming into a million trees. She shouldn't have told him the real reason.

……

“This will be the room you sleep in,” Clark signed and carried [Name]’s belongings in the guest room. She turned around and thanked him for helping her out. “But what about Damian? Where is he staying?” [Name] showed concern for her friend and Clark pointed to his left.

“Damian will be staying in the same room as Jon. Hopefully we all can survive the next day with them sharing a room together,” Clark joked and [Name] tilted her head for more clarification. Clark smiled, “The boys have hit many rough patches along the way, but they finally accepted their differences much like Bruce and I.”

[Name] was even more confused by now, “But you and grandfather don’t like each other that much. You guys still banter and try to one up each other, isn’t that right?”

Clark sweatdropped and knew immediately that [Name] had acquired vision which allowed her to see the past and future. “I like to believe we have gotten better with handling our differences,” Clark set her suitcase down. "Anyways, I believe it's time for you to meet my son."

……

"Oh my god," Jon stared at the girl with long [h.color] hair and [e.color] eyes with amazement. "She's so pretty."

Damian looked away from the sunset sky and glared at Jon, "Don't even try, Kent." Damian warned the young boy and pointed at [Name] who helped Clark tend to the horses. "She is not gonna be interested in the likes of you."

Jon turned around and felt offended, "Okay, wow, I wasn't going to try anything. I was only complimenting her."

"Keep your lame compliments to yourself," Damian muttered and crossed his arms. He didn't have to explain why he felt so protective of [Name]. He knew that she was important and that she needed to be protected which was why Jason wanted him to go on this trip too.

"Hello, my name is Jon," Jon ran up to [Name] with a big smile on his face and his hand out for a shake.

[Name] shook his hand happily and pulled back to sign, "I can read your lips, but I'm not sure if you can understand sign language?"

Clark rested his hand on Jon's shoulder and laughed, "Oh, he learned sign language when he heard about you. I made sure we all took lessons on it."

"That is very kind of you to do that," [Name] smiled and looked over at Damian. He had his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes were hardened, glaring at the back of Jon's head. This brought attention to the ten year old boy.

"I can feel you burning holes at the back of my head, Damian," Jon turned around and put his hands on his hips, "if you keep up with your...silly...ways I'll- I'll take [Name] flying."

Damian growled as he uncrossed his arms, "You wouldn't dare."

Jon smirked, "Try me."

"Alright that's enough of you two," Clark stepped in and made sure the boys were a safe distance from each other. "I don't want [Name] caught in between your fights. As of right now, she can hardly protect herself."

After establishing rules, Jon was tasked with showing [Name] around the farm. Damian had tagged along making sure he put himself between the Kryptonian and the Inklopiatian. Jon looked around Damian's body to address [Name], "We have a lot of land and it's usually good for us to train and dad helps me with flight training. Which I forgot to mention!"

Damian backed away from his loud voice.

"Dad says that Inklopiatians can fly! Hey, [Name] can you fly?"

The trio stopped in an area of fertilized soil. [Name] looked at Damian then back to Jon. "No, I can't. I don't know how to do that. My mother passed away before she can teach me anything and my grandparents live on Inklopiat which is too far from Earth. As far as I know, I'm the only Inklopiatian on Earth."

Jon noticed her crestfallen expression and moved around Damian. Jon grabbed her left hand and started floating in the air slowly bringing [Name] with him. This in turn caused her to freak out and grab onto Damian's hand with her right.

"She doesn't trust you," Damian said and held his ground not letting go of [Name].

Jon smiled and brought her [e.color] eyes to his blue ones, "I promise I won't let you go. I'm letting you get the feeling of flying around. You can trust me, scouts honor."

[Name] looked back at Damian and he reluctantly agreed, "Jon will catch you if you do fall." Gradually they both released their hold and Damian felt something strike his heart when he let her go into someone else's hold. He knew that Jon would keep her safe, but the happy look in her eyes- it didn't sit well with him.

Jon carried [Name] higher in the air and helped her do flips and turns. Both the half aliens were enjoying their little flight. It made Damian curse because he wanted to be up there with them; with her.

Hearing her laughter slip past her lips all because she was flying with his friend made him extremely jealous. Yes, Damian has admitted to feeling jealous of his friend getting closer to his...what was [Name] to him?

He won't think about it anymore. It only caused a bigger headache for him if he called her his friend. He knew that she wasn't a friend. She was something more and it bothers Damian that he couldn't figure it out.

……

After four days, Clark has figured out that [Name] has the ability to fly (with the help of Jon's fun training), has pyrokinesis and has attained vision. Now all he had to do was wait for two out of five other abilities.

Psi, strength, speed, magic and Clark had forgotten what the last one was. He was more focused on the kids practicing hand to hand combat. Damian was the one in charge of the sessions Jon and [Name] received.

"Hey! That attack was totally not cool, Damian! I thought we were supposed to be moving slow to show [Name] how to fight!" Jon yelled as he rolled onto his stomach to stand up from his fallen position.

Damian scoffed, "What? Can't handle a punch?" He knew that what he did was uncalled for, although he couldn't fight like this. [Name] needed to see an actual fight that flowed with attacks.

"Maybe I can fight one of you?" [Name] suggested making sure she did what Clark always did which was to step in between them.

"No!" Both the boys yelled and ignored her presence.

Jon started flying a few feet in the air, "I'll give you a real fight if that's what you want. But don’t think I’ll hold back."

"Finally stepping up for yourself, Kent?" Damian smirked and pushed [Name] aside grabbing his batarangs in his hands.

[Name] wasn’t going to stand by and let them fight. This was supposed to be training for her, not for these boys to prove who was strongest. Although, [Name] knew that Jon had the upper hand considering that he was Superman’s son. She had to do something, these boys could cause a world of hurt especially with Jon’s unkempt emotions.

Her hands began to sparkle and her body started twinkling unbeknownst to the kids. She was activating a new ability that allowed for her and the others around her to teleport. Meanwhile her transformation, Jon launched himself at Damian and Damian readied himself for the impact, but they were shocked to see [Name] in between them with her eyes glowing [f.color].

Jon ran into her which triggered them to run into Damian. Then the trio started rolling down a hill of rocky edges and loose branches. While rolling downhill, Damian slowed himself down by using his arm to grab anything and when his hand came into contact with a stump, he gripped it tightly. Then in a flash of blue and red, Jon rolled by Damian’s still form down the hill unconscious.

Damian reacted quickly by getting his grappler out and sending the grappler to wrap around Jon’s leg. The young kryptonian stopped rolling down the hill and Damian didn’t notice that if he didn’t get Jon in time, the boy would have rolled off a cliff.

[Name].

His green eyes frantically looked for the girl and he saw her at the edge of the cliff, ten feet to the right of him. Her right hand was holding onto an unsteady log and her left arm was bloody, severely cut. “[Name]!” Damian yelled knowing full well she couldn’t hear him, but she looked up and caught his eyes.

“Stop moving!” Damian shouted at her and saw her body remain still. The log was gradually slipping from its grounded spot. He had to find a way to get her before the log gives up and [Name] ends up falling. He looked down at Jon and pressed a button on the grappler which sent a strong voltage to the unconscious boy.

…...

Jon woke up with a start and he groaned while hanging upside down. “W-What the?” Jon muttered and looked up to see Damian’s mouth moving. His domino mask crinkled at his nose. Jon didn’t know what Damian was saying or why he was hanging upside down.

“Jon, get [Name]!”

Jon felt his body shake and he looked to his left to see [Name] giving him wide doe eyes. It was like she was screaming help at him with her scared expression. His vision was lacking, but that didn’t stop Damian from sending another shock in his system.

“I swear I’ll kill you if you don’t start moving!”

Jon heard Damian’s threat and he was finally coming to his senses. [Name] was in immediate danger. He felt the grappler lose its hold on his leg and Jon flipped himself around to jump at [Name]’s falling body. How did he not notice she fell already? Did Damian let him go to save her?

Jon reached out for [Name]’s glowing body. And within seconds, he wrapped his arms around her torso to stop her falling. He tumbled to the ground and his back met a large boulder where a huge crack was made from the impact. “Ow, ow, ow,” Jon cried dramatically and looked down to see [Name] curled up in his arms. She looked up at him and signed with a weak smile, “Damian was right. He said you would catch me if I would fall.”

Jon blushed and stood up wiping her hair that had twigs and pebbles in it. “Oh man, Damian is going to kill me,” Jon said and gingerly touched her wounded arm. It was covered in her blood and dirt. He brought her over to a creek and wiped her arm carefully with the cool water. He was astounded to see that there was no wound. [Name] pulled away from him shyly and signed, “It healed while my body started glowing, but-”

“That’s amazing! We gotta get Damian, he’s up there!” Jon looked up and noticed tall trees providing shade from the sun. He looked around to see that they were surrounded by trees. There was no cliff which meant no Damian.

“Oh this is bad,” Jon panicked while pulling at his hair, “Damian is going to kill me for real this time! We have to find him now and show him that you’re okay and-”

[Name] covered Jon’s mouth to stop his rumbling. “Damian knows I’m okay.”

Jon stared at her and removed her hand, “H-How? All he saw was you falling and me going down the cliff to save you. In his eyes, he saw you fall to your death and he’s probably hoping I died if you did. Wait, he wants to kill me himself so that’s an obvious no.”

“In his heart, Damian knows we both survived the fall. Now we need to go and find him before he gets into trouble. This place gives me the creeps.” [Name] began walking in one direction and Jon followed, not sure what to do at this point.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #jon kent #Damian Wayne #dc imagine #DC Universe #dc #supersons #robin imagine #batman imagine #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #Jason Todd #batman #superman #my universe

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leila4you · 3 years

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How to Bring Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne into the Live Action DCEU

I think that's what it's called, basically the Live Action Justice League movies and their universe.

Aka My idea for Justice League 2 and I might write a fanfic on this at some point.

This is based on the Synderverse version. I've never seen the 2017 version and don't plan to.

SPOILERS FOR ZAC SNYDER'S JUSTICE LEAGUE AND EVERYTHING HE'S SAID ABOUT THE SNYDERVERSE, UNDER THE RED HOOD STORYLINE (KINDA), GRAYSON COMICS, TEEN TITANS ANIMATED SERIES!(AND I GUESS THE FAB5?)

Okay, so Zac Snyder confirmed awhile ago that the dead Robin is Dick Grayson, and from my understanding, Ben Affleck was going to do an adaptation of the Under the Red Hood storyline. But was canceled ot something. Anyway, what if they did, but with Dick Grayson. It's a very loose adaptation, mostly that Dick was killed by Joker, resurrected, and come back into Bruce's life.

So, Dick dies when he's around 14-15. Dick was around 8 when he started, so it would make a little bit more sense for Bruce to have been comfortable to be patrolling or in general being out by himself, but still be considered young. Dick went to try and stop a lottery, but turns out it was a ruse created by Joker to kidnap Robin!Dick. Joker takes him to a warehouse and essentially does what he did to Jason in the comics (for those who don't know, Joker beat him with a crowbar then blew up the building he was in, killing Jason(Dick in this case)).

Ra's al Ghul hears about Dick's death and puts Dick in the Lazurus Pits to bring him back to life and calls Deathstroke.

Deathstroke and Dick have already met and they have their weird obsessive/mutual respect thing/I-you-as-my-apprentice going on, so Ra's makes a deal with him: Slade can have Dick as his apprentice, but Dick has to help raise and eventually train Bruce's son, Damian. Slade accepts.

So, Dick unwillingly trains under Slade and becomes Renegade until he's 19 and he takes Damian and runs away.

Dick, who doesn't want to drag Bruce into all of this, doesn't go back to Bruce, but plans to when he knows it's safe because he wants Damian to meet his dad.

Eventually, Dick ends up at Spyral and becomes Agent 37, but the whole Nazi thing doesn't happen. The arc where Minos was trying to find out Heroes' identities could happen, but after the events of Justice League and Dick handles it (Basically Grayson comics 1-10 without Dick reporting back to Bruce) when he's like 22.

The Deathstroke and Lex Luthor scene happens and the reason Deathstroke has a vendetta against Batman is because he thinks Batman is hiding Dick and Damian (he doesn't really care about Damian but bringing Damian back to the League would keep him in their favor. He would know Dick's identity, but not Bruce's because he probably didn't believe that Bruce was smart enough to be Batman, but he would protect his son(s). He doesn't know that Bruce doesn't know anything.

So the story is about Deathstroke going after Bruce. At first, everyone thinks that Slade got paid to kill Bruce Wayne, but then Slade kidnaps one the League members (Like Barry) or someone close to them (Alfred or Lois) and says he'll kill them unless Bruce tells Slade where Dick is.

Bruce is mad because Slade is bringing up his dead son, but Slade isn't crazy enough to just make up Dick being alive, so he starts investigating.

He eventually comes to the conclusion that the League of Assassin's, or at least the Lazarus Pits have something to do with it, so he contacts Talia and she tells him the truth (or maybe Talia comes to Gotham looking for Damian and ends up telling Bruce everything when she realizes he doesn't know). But all these events have caught Spyral's attention and Dick and Tiger (and maybe Helena) go to stop Slade. Damian, who's still living with Dick, follows them.

It ends with the JL, Dick, Tiger, and Damian, (and Helena) beating Slade, but Slade escapes (of course). And it ends with people finding out Dick is alive (cover probably being amnesia or Witness Protection) and Dick leaves Spyral.

Maybe there's this conversation between Dick and Clark where Clark tells him the Nightwing story and it kind of sets up Dick to be Nightwing at the end and Damian possibly being Robin? It'd be hard without the closeness between Dick and Clark being there that Nightwing signifies and DCEU Bruce still might not want a Robin with him because of what happened to Dick.

This was just my idea of how they could bring Dick Grayson into the DCEU. Damian also would make sense to bring in this context of why Ra's would do this. And it could fit into Snyder's plan where Clark and Lois's son becomes Batman and Damian takes up Nightwing or be his own hero (he also goes by Redbird in the comics, right?)

I also had an idea that the Teen Titans formed, but just the Fab 5:

Roy Harper is Red Arrow, not much to change with his storyline, Oliver Queen started as Green Arrow around the tim Bruce started being Batman. Dick and Rot probably met at a Gala and hit it off, and eventually all four found out about each other.

Garth: Maybe Arthur found him as a child and helped him get to Atlantis, where Garth eventually becomes an Ambassador for them. He comes to visit Arthur a lot, but doesn't push for him to go to Atlantis, and met the others on one of his trips.

Donna: I read somewhere, and I don't know if it's true, that Donna was Diana's clone who got kidnapped and cursed and her life got like restarted, but this Donna's story is that. Both Diana and Donna know that the other is in the Man's World, but Donna never told Diana about the Teen Titans.

Wally: He traveled from the future (Like Bart) and to change the future and got stuck in the past. He probably lived or spent a lot of time at Wayne Manor, but after Dick died, it hurt to be there, but he visits Bruce and Alfred.

They have Titans Tower in New York.

This was mostly in order to have a way for Slade to meet Dick, and why it would have taken Bruce longer to find and save Dick from Joker. Because Bruce doesn't know New York as well as Gotham and it might take longer for Bruce to even find out that Dick was missing. It kind of doesn't work because why wouldn't he call them to join the Justice League and fight Steppenwolf or even Doomsday? Maybe because he still sees them as kids (even though they'd probably be older than Barry) and losing them would be like losing Dick all over again.

Anyway, that's my idea that will probably never happen, but I might write later.

#dick grayson #nightwing #agent 37 #batman and robin #batman #bruce wayne #justice league #snyderverse #fabfive #damian wayne #teen titans #i want this to happen #but it won't #what was the point of killing off dick #slade wilson #deathstroke #i'd tag more characters but they aren't really mentioned in the post much #spyral #restore the snyderverse

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

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I Will be Your Tim Drake for Tonight (1) (Jason Todd/ Reader)

Summary: Preferring to do anything but your physics project, you decide to accepts Tim’s proposal. It’s simple. He does your project, you try to figure out whether Jason Sionis is criminal. Easy, right?

masterlist

A/n: This takes place in a world where Jason is adopted by Black Mask. Inspired by Building Interest by Zoeleo.

The events and characterization in this story are very heavily based on Zoeleo's Long Term Investment series. It is fantastic and I really highly recommend all of her fics.

a/n: For clarification, Reader does have psychic powers but it only lets her sense people's emotions physically. No mind-reading. Her power is more like an overactive sense of empathy which may force her to dissociate into someone else.

There will be violence and mentions of alcoholism (used as coping mechanism for physical pain) and chronic pain.

As for the additional warning, an animal is harmed but it is barely described. I could not bring myself to actual describe it but the aftermath is described.

I also just converted this from an OC so I apologize for any grammatical mistakes.

Without further a do:

Your skin itches as you make your way through the crowd. It wasn't the suit. After all, Alfred Pennyworth was incapable of doing wrong. It was the sea of hands patting your back, petting your head, and pinching your cheeks made every inch of skin want to slough off. Tim owed you. He owed you big time. Then again he's back at the manor tackling your physics project and making sure Gotham doesn't set itself on fire while Batman is on ‘vacation’.

You should be fine. It’s not like Brucie asked you to investigate a suspected criminal who also happens to be Roman Sionis’ heir. Nope, no pressure there. Thanks Bruce. You’re clad in blue contacts, a black wig, makeup, and a stolen suit. As safe as you felt in someone else's skin, you still felt like you were gonna fall over. Maybe it's because you were dumb enough not to bring your cane.

The room was dizzyingly full of people. Your mind goes haywire. Jumping from one mind to the next. Dipping into every emotion it could stick itself into. It was almost overwhelming enough for you to forget about the ache in your leg. You knew this night was gonna be far longer than you could stand. You needed a drink. Or 9.

"Hey, no drinking! You're underaged!" Dick nearly shrieked, plucking your fifth(?) flute of champagne. You wouldn't be in a few months. Really he was being quite unreasonable to the drunk person in front of him. Looking him dead in the eyes, you wave another server over and take 2 flutes of champagne. "I'm fine Dick. I've drunken harder stuff than this."

"No," Dick said firmly snatching the 2 flutes from your hand.

"Big bro pleeeaaasee" You drawl sweetly knowing Dick was a sucker for that move. Dick tries to look unmoved but you could see in the slump of his shoulders that he wanted to give in. "I'm having an episode," The word episode felt strange and wrong but there really was no other way to describe it. "and I don't have any painkillers on me." You added hastily.

"Fiiine-" Dick whines, resolve crumbling to dust. Handing back only one flute of champagne, he scolds: "Just don't get shit faced. We're here on a mission."

"Yes, motheeeer,"

Without missing a beat, you down it, feeling the tearing in your head beginning to fade.

"Jesus, calm down," Dick said taking the now empty flute from you.

You are less than surprised by the fact that he isn't fazed by being called mother at this point. It might just be the alcohol. The Powers might not understand the concept of fun but they sure do have taste in alcohol.

While Dick lectures you on safe alcohol consumption and Babs laughs unhelpfully, You feel the press of another person's mind. The other 2 seem to notice it too. Being pulled out of their reverie, they turn to greet them.

"Target at 2'oclock" Babs whispers but your mind had for some reason forgotten how English worked. Instead, it drifted to the simple mind coming closer to them. Almost too quickly, you dropped down to your knees. Your joints complained but you could feel your mind smooth as you placed a gentle hand on the dog's fur.

The dog whuffs with glee as if to say "Yes! There! Pat there!".

Absorbed in the dog's uncomplicated happiness, you began to piece yourself back together and the pain in your head receded.

" Who's a good girl? You are! You are!"

The dog yips happily. Its smooshed face pressing into your hand. You forget the party until-

Dick coughs clearing his throat, laughter bright in his blue eyes.

You, for the first time, notice the person beside the dog. It was their target, Jason Sionis, stretching out his hand to shake yours.

"Oh- Uh- it's just your dog- She's- Hi, I'm Tim Drake." you shoot up to shake his hand. You notice the patches of scabs and scars on his knuckles. You’re pretty sure Dick or Tim could give him a run for his money if they didn't have makeup on. Though that just might speak more to their-as Damian puts it- incompetence.

Your eyes flicker to Dick momentarily as he tries so hard not to laugh.

"Well, it was nice to make your acquaintance," Jason says flatly as he turns his attention to Dick and Babs for a more coherent discussion. You weren’t entirely certain that you offended him but you were probably close.

You want to say that it's his eyes that you notice first. They were a striking shade of ultramarine, a terrifying facsimile of the ocean. They made you shudder. You would have rather noticed how nicely he filled out his suit. The man was made of muscle under that well-tailored suit. You file the image for further appreciation later. But, unfortunately, you are far too accustomed to checking your brothers for wounds for your eyes to not immediately flicker towards the scar on his face. It takes everything in you not to stare at the scar cleaving down the flesh of his cheek rigging the right side of his face into a permanent grin. Thankfully, he leaves them saying something about having business somewhere else.

Sure, the guy falls into Gotham’s pattern of ruining your face and turning to a life of crime but so far he hasn’t really shown anything concrete. Plus, he’s really nice to his dog. No one that nice to a dog could possibly be the Red Death, Black Mask’s shiniest, and rumored to be his most brutal, new enforcer. Then again, your mother always did treat Anatoli like a king.

"Tim was right. You can act like him. You even got him shoving his own foot in his mouth down pat. Great job. " Dick chuckles patting you on the shoulder jostling you out of your thoughts.

You sigh. "The next time I go undercover I'm going alone. I don't even know why you're here."

"I think you've demonstrated why."

You- annoyed, embarrassed, and feeling the marching in your skull coming back- jab "Alright Fabio , you befriend Mr.Pretty boy-" .

"That's pretty mean eve-"

"I didn't mean it to be mean-"you honestly didn't but you were byelingual at this point. "-I think he's pretty. Scars are sexy and all of that carp. "

"I am very concerned."

"You should be. I'm out of booze and the dog just walked away. " you hissed rubbing the side of your head before stomping off to look for more drinks.

You feel your head jack rabbiting again. The staff had, as per some evil person's request (Likely Dick or maybe Babs), cut you off from the booze. You find yourself wandering around until your feet take you outside. The cool night air and the nearly freezing bricks sooth you warmed skin as you slide against it.

"What? Did you come out 'ere to watch my dog piss?" a slightly familiar baritone voice chuckled.

"As fun as that sounds, I just escaped Dick Grayson. I believe that, in itself, is reason enough to go outside and take in the 'fresh' Gotham night air. " you snark, looking up expecting him to grin at you but was greeted with a look of concern. You’ve seen it before. Your hand almost automatically makes its way to your nose. You felt a thick liquid brush against the pads of your fingers. If you looked at them, you’d likely see them covered in blood.

You shrug and brush your deep red sleeve against your face. You probably didn't get all of it based on the crooked grin on his face.

"Shit kid, they'll think I punched you." Jason chuckles good-naturedly. You know he's not nervous. He’s charming enough to talk his way out of it.

"Relax, Dick will likely say I deserved it if they do think you punched me but that is highly unlikely seeing these episodes are an open secret after I bled on Mrs. Yavorski's satin dress a few years ago. "

"Well, in that case, you want a smoke? Should take the edge off." Jason says it as a joke holding out a pack of cigarettes to you. Everyone knows Wayne kids are good kids.

You, feeling particularly cheeky, take the cigarette between his lip and take a long drag, inhaling and letting your eyes slide close.

He makes a quiet choking noise. Away from the sea of minds, you can feel his eyes on you. Wide and disbelieving. A cocktail of interest, embarrassment, excitement, and delight swirls in his mind. It might have been attraction or it might just have been amusement. You shouldn't be too surprised by the reaction. Tim is quite the knock out even when he looks dead on his feet. His confusion only lasts five seconds before you cough out "Christ, it's just as bad as Bruce said it was."

You hand him back the cigarette laughing and coughing into your sleeve.

"So, did your brother tell you to apologize?" He says, clearing his throat not really looking you in the eyes. You can still see the faint speck of color on his face.

"Well, he didn't say it. He doesn’t really have to and I do have manners contrary to popular belief. Plus! In my defense, your dog is cute. "

"Lizzie is, isn't she?" Jason smiles patting Lizzie on her head. It was a soft gesture. Something you really didn't expect from a supposedly hardened criminal let alone someone raised by Roman Sionis.

You crouch down to Lizzie's level and put your hands on the dog's face. Lizzie happily nuzzles into your hands.

"You have a dog?"

" Depends, does Dick count?"

Jason snorts. "Do you ever think before you speak?"

"Not when I'm drunk and bleeding, no."

"How drunk are you?"

You mime counting. "As far as Dick knows, I'm 1 to 2 flutes drunk. As far as the staff knows, I'm 7 flutes drunk."

"I should probably get you back to your brother then" Jason laughs, pulling you by the arm. You notice for the first time just how big his hands really are.

"No, I-"

Gunshots. Pain. Panic. They ring in equal measure to you as a black van pulls up in the alley.

"Fuck! Box!"

A man in a dark suit crumples to the ground. You recognize him. He was part of Jason's security team. In a flurry of movement, Jason's by his side. You think he's checking the injuries- which in your opinion is at once the smartest and dumbest move you could do in this situation- but he-is in fact-checking for a gun.

Gun in hand, Jason begins shooting at the men.

You think to grab a stray brick or something but you knew your best chance was to crouch low and maybe convince Jason to do the same. But based on the murder radiating from him, that was highly unlikely.

Lizzie runs out in front of them to protect Box and Jason. It goes as well as expected.

Lizzie whines into your touch. The tendrils of your mind desperately trying to keep Lizzie there. You want to scream. Your mind surges trying to dip into someone else but Jason's anger and grief consume you. You want to charge at them, rip their throats out, tear them limb from limb. But it's Jason who does it. His body launches forward faster than you could speak.

The men in masks were just as fast. One of them incapacitates him with a well-placed metal pipe to the head. His whole body hits the pavement with one loud thud. Your breath catches.

"There's two of them,"

"What do you mean there's two of them?"

"The boss said black hair, blue eyes, and a fucked up face"

"Did he say what kind of fucked up?"

"Not really"

You want to squawk about how nosebleeds don't really count. Given, it is bleeding like it’s auditioning to be the next Niagara falls.

"Just take them both!" barks a rough voice from the van.

You think to make a break for it but fast as you are(not really). Your head was still ringing and you couldn't really take them out on your own.

You hold your hands up in surrender. "I'll go quietly. I know the drill. "

The men look at each other clearly confused by your cooperation but not really willing to question it.

They throw cuffs on your wrist and literally throw you into the van like a sack of potatoes. Not that they treat Jason any better. He looks dizzy and pale.

"Are you-"

With a heave, he throws up on "your" shoes. You want to laugh. You really do. You also just want to cry.

Tim is going to kill you. No, Alfred will. If you’re lucky-which you never are- Dick will suffocate you with a hug before they ever get to you.

Maybe just maybe, the kidnappers will do it for you.

Yeah, right.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x oc #jason todd #tim drake #batfam #barbara gordon #dick grayson #false face au #batsis #damian wayne #batfamily x reader #nightwing #dc fanfiction #dc comics

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years

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Soul Shards Au Headcanons

Dunno if this already exists, but if not, here it is.

Tim Drake Soul Shards au.

—-.—–

Okay I wanted to write about this, but really, between Twisted Soulmates and Put a Ring on it, and *finals* (I’m halfway through hell, I have to keep going), I just can’t. But this wouldn’t leave me alone, so here.

Au where everyone is born hugging a shiny small orb, which encompasses their soul. To anyone else, the orb is solid, like diamond perfectly polished. But to the owner, it changes as they see fit, from rock solid to malleable. Commonly, mothers, fathers and close relatives will gift their kids with little pieces of their own souls, shaping them to be little rings, necklaces, headsets, etc. Kids are discouraged from giving soul shards to anyone other than their relatives until they grow up a bit, but some still give bits and pieces to their best friends. The bit of soul given away always carries the feeling the person who gave it has for the person receiving it, so kids always carry their mother’s love, their father’s pride, their aunts or uncles fondness, etc.

Now, into the headcannons. Please keep in mind I wrote this in one go so it’s not edited. Probably full of mistakes.

Tim’s parents were always careful with their souls, carrying them on little pouches or leather bags. They are full and perfectly unscathed. Jack’s soul was a little more reduced, since he gave bits and pieces of himself to his own parents when he was a little kid, but Janet’s is whole.

They never gave him a piece of themselves, Janet firmly against the act altogether, Jack following on her example.

Little Timmy always watched his classmates on kindergarten running around, shinny shards of soul decorating them, radiating a love he never felt on his own skin.

Fast forward the night the Graysons fell, little Tim went back home and made a little necklace for the boy that flew for him and gave him a hug so warm he likes to think it’s what being gifted a soul feels like.

He never really gets around to giving it to him though. It sits on a wooden box in a hidey hole under Tim’s bed, along with his most precious Batman and Robin photos.

He once tries to give his parents soul shards (a wonderfully made ring and headset for dad and mom respectively). His mother is outraged, to the point to slap him. Then, for maybe the second or third time in his life, she hugs him.

“-You stupid boy. Don’t give your soul away so easily, or you’ll have none left for yourself. And what do you think will happen to you, if you are soulless?”

He never tries again.

Tim once falls from a high spot, where he was perched taking pictures of the second Robin. His hero saves him, gives him an earful, and they become friends (Robin drops in before or after patrol to make sure Tim listened to his warnings and stopped sneaking out at night. Tim kept doing it, but was sneakier about it and Robin, despite being suspicious, has no proof that the kid disobeyed).

Tim gives Robin/Jason a soul shard once, a little birdarang he craved after the one Jason gifted him, but shiny blue like his soul. It’s filled with awe, respect, shyness, adoration and what would equal as a crush if Tim were socially adept enough to recognize it. Jason is a stuttering mess for weeks, keeps the birdarang with himself at all times, right next to the soulshard Bruce gave him, and never takes it off. He plans on giving Tim something back, but is unsure as to what. Earing? The kid needed a little pre teen rebellion…

He never gets around to doing it.

He’s clutching Tim’s birdarang when he dies. Bruce doesn’t know who gave it to Jay, and is too overwhelmed with grief to investigate. He just buries Jason with it.

After Tim becomes Robin, he finally gathers enough courage to give Dick his soulshard. He explains how much Dick meant to him growing up, but that Dick doesn’t need to give anything back. They’ve just officially met not long ago, after all. Dick promises to give him something soon, though.

He doesn’t. Other things are more important. IT’ll happen when it happens, he figures. No rush.

Bruce gets a watch and Alfred a tie pin, but Bruce refuses to give anyone else a piece of himself, less of all Tim. He’s sure his soul is poisoned or something (He gave some to his parents, they died. Dick, he left. Jason, he died. Clark and Diana, they were superhuman, they don’t count. Alfred… well, Alfred is always the exception), and won’t allow his darkness to touch the boy (OH BOY IS HE WRONG). But because he doesn’t want Tim to feel like Bruce has a personal problem with him (*epic fail on his part*), instead of calmly explaining his reasoning, he also forbids Alfred from giving Tim a soul shard (That shit’s gonna explode on his face).

Tim goes around to giving bits and pieces to his friends, too. Doesn’t really expect any back though, used as he is to giving and never receiving.

He gives Steph a locket, when she tells him she’s pregnant, so she can keep a picture of the baby if she wants (or anything else if she doesn’t), even after giving him or her away. Steph doesn’t reciprocate since pregnant women are advised against molding and sharding their souls, in case it hurts the baby’s soul development. Then she ‘dies’, and after she comes back Tim is angry at her, and there’s never a right moment for her to give him a shard.

Cass… well, Cass is so touched when Tim gifts her a soul-made compass that always points towards the Manor (“So you can always find your way back home”), but her father has damaged her soul by throwing it around and dropping it a lot, on top of his emotional and physical abuse, and it’s just too bruised for her to give any away, though she promises herself she will the moment it’s healthy enough.

Tim’s team… God, his team. By this time, Tim is kinda concerned, because he gave too much recently and his soul is looking kinda… malnourished? small? He can’t really put a finger on it, and he’s worried his parents will notice, so he doesn’t give his team a shard at first.

It’s after his parents die (buried with the soul pieces Tim made for them, even if they never wanted to wear them) that he thinks ‘fuck it’ and, while hanging out with Kon and Bart, gatters courage and asks them what would they like.

After being reassured that he wants to do it, Kon shyly asks for an earing (of course he does) and Bart for a ring (kinda like his grandfather’s? few other things would stay on him at the speed he runs, too). They wished they could give back, but Kon, as a clone and alien, was created with a soul no one can touch, like a phantom light following him around, and Bart already told them how everyone in the future was born with theirs inside their bodies.

He sees the soul-made birdarang again, and that’s what cues him on the fact that Jason Todd came back to life. It’s colour had changed from blue to red, the only reason he recognized it was the tiny R he carved on the middle. He sees it close and personal when his former hero tries to gut him.

He gives Cassie a bracelet on Kon’s funeral. Turns around and leaves before she can say anything about it.

Tim lays in bed at night and remembers his mother’s words (“You stupid boy.”), and wonders what, indeed, is the danger of going soulless. He doesn’t know if it’s possible. His soul has shrunk, that’s obvious, but, thinking back on all the pieces he gave away, he should have run out of it a long time ago.

Bruce dies. Everyone whose soul he gave to are the ones that carry his casket. Damian and Tim are sitting on the front rows, but their lack of deep blue soulshards is telling.

Not too long after, Dick gives Damian a little Robin sky blue brooch, to fasten the cape of his new uniform with. Tim wears black and red, not a hint of shiny soul on him. He leaves Gotham and looks for Bruce.

Ra’s is the first person ever to inquire about his shocking lack of soulmade gifts. To wonder about the bruised state of his soul.

“The Pit could heal it, restore it to it’s former grandness” “I’ve seen what it did to the bit of my soul I gave to Jason… no thank you.” “You’ve given far too much. It’s state is sad enough a hundred cynics wouldn’t be able to describe it without bawling” “It wasn’t a matter of give, it was a lack of take. And it’s not like giving it away is the only abuse my soul had to endure.”

He brings Bruce back, but he’s so tired. His soul hasn’t been growing back on itself like it did the first few times he took from it.

The love he felt when someone smiled at his soul shards was what feed his soul, he realizes. It’s past malnourished at this point.

If he had enough soul left, maybe he’d have cared.

The final straw is Damian, of fucking course. He doesn’t even remember what the argument was about, even five minutes after it had ended. He simply didn’t care anymore. Something about Wayne Enterprises, the right heir, the blood son…

Tim blinks blankly at Damian, hand reaching inside his pocket, looking for the now tiny, ping pong ball- sized piece of soul. The last he had left.

Silently, he stopped Damian’s rant short by taking the gesturing teen’s hand mid air and holding it open, dropping the remains of his soul in it, and closing the now still fingers around it.

“There. Now you truly have everything that was mine. Happy?”

He turns away, and leaves. Damian stays behind, heart hammering away in his chest, clutching the tiny (too tiny) soul.

In different places, different people feel a sudden heat from the pieces of Tim’s soul they carry with them. Steph, Cass, Bruce, Kon, Bart, Dick, Jason, Alfred, Cassie… they all look for theirs.

The soul is now mostly red with flecks of black, very little of the icy blue remains. It’s a bleeding soul.

A dying soul.

“And what do you think will happen to you, if you are soulless?” Sorry, mom.

Apparently, decides Tim, dragging his hoodie over his head to hide his features as he boards the plane, you stop caring.

—–.—–

Did I make you cry? I made myself cry. Was gonna give this a happy ending but I HAVE TO STUDY, FUCKING FINALS.

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

Text

Chapter 11 of that one story in which Robin #3 is magic, literally.

Read on AO3

Robin woke up again when somebody knocked gently against his door. Sleepily, he crawled out of his bed and walked over to the door. He had fallen asleep in yesterday’s clothes and given the bright sunlight already shining through the curtains, Robin must have slept through the night.

Tentatively he opened the door just a crack. He expected Alfred, not Nightwing to be standing there, looking quite nervously. He was dressed in civilian clothes and it painted a quite different picture than that of the serene vigilante of before. He seemed tired, vulnerable.

“Can I come in?”

Robin opened the door wordlessly and stepped aside to make space for him.

Nightwing entered the room and looked around. The room was a little more lived-in than it had been when Robin first saw it, but it still wasn’t anything special. Still, somehow he was embarrassed by it. Robin had been made to be striking and the room wasn’t special compared to all the others in the manor.

“It’s nice,” Nightwing said, walking up and down.

He was uncomfortable in Robin’s presence and stalling time on top of it. With a sigh, Robin sat down at his desk chair.

“Do you want anything in particular, Nightwing?”

Nightwing frowned at him, confusion sprinkled all over his face like his freckles.

“Night- you can call me Dick, if you want to.” Dick stopped talking, halted, and realization took hold of him. “You do know who I am, right?”

“Richard ‘Dick’ John Grayson,” Robin replied easily, the knowledge of the previous Robin’s identity as clear as if he’d downloaded it from the batcomputer. “Twenty-one-years old, Blüdhaven vigilante operating as Nightwing . You’re also a founding member of the Teen Titans, a group of mostly teenagers to young adults, most of whom were former sidekicks of-“

“Woah, woah, kid, slow down.” Dick held up his hands in a placating manner, now grinning sheepishly. “I see you know your stuff. But yes, you can call me Dick if you want to.”

Robin rolled his eyes. “Well, I have to ‘know my stuff’ as Robin. Not that I’m doing much of that right now.”

Dick winced and, deflating like an old balloon, sat down on Robin‘s unmade bed.

“It’s not an easy time for Bruce- all of us really. Jason’s death… Nobody but that fucking clown is to blame, but Bruce still feels responsible.”

Dick’s eyes hardened and his voice edged on the corner of terrifyingly dangerous just after mentioning the Joker.

“But I’m not Jason!” Robin argued. “I’m not much of anyone but Robin, and Batman doesn’t even let me be that!”

Robin crossed his arms over his chest, already in a fool mood. The day had hardly started and he was already angry. Great. Dick observed him silently and Robin didn’t want to know what kind of impression he was making on the other vigilante.

“I might not be able to change Batman’s opinion on that, not given the terms we are on now, but I could use another set of eyes.”

Dick seemed to be hesitant saying those words, but Robin almost immediately began vibrating with energy.

“You want my help?” Robin asked, almost toppling his chair when he hurried to stand up.

Dick nodded seriously. “Yes, that’s why I came to the Cave originally. I’m tracking a ring of arms dealers and Batman has the better tech, but I think I’ll work just as fast with you helping out. So do you want to-“

“Yes!” Robin shouted. “Yes, yes, yes, please. I’ve been trying to solve old cold cases from the police, but without leaving the manor my investigations have been going super slowly and please let me help!”

Dick laughed and stood up. “Alright, alright. Down to the kitchen again then? Alfred's made breakfast and my files are downstairs. I suppose I have to get them from the Cave. You can change into something fresh in the meanwhile.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

As soon as Dick had left the room, Robin rushed to his wardrobe and quickly put on new clothes. A pair of sweatpants, gray this time, and a comfortable black and yellow Batman sweatshirt later, Robin was sitting at the kitchen table, munching on his cornflakes while Dick was sorting through his files.

Alfred had tsk’ed once in disapproval, but given that Robin wasn’t supposed to be in the Cave, they had to take their work upstairs.

Working alongside Nightwing was fun. The vigilante was perceptive and Robin admired how efficiently he worked, and how well he knew his city and its criminals. He gave Robin a quick rundown of what organization they were dealing with, how they operated and what had tipped Nightwing off.

Then the two of them started tracing the organization’s work back to Gotham, slowly dismantling them. After a couple hours had passed, they had connected the dealers with their buyers and began strategizing how to take them down.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Nightwing told Robin.

Robin smiled, this time with nothing holding him back. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself either, Nightwing.”

Nightwing messes up Robin’s hair delightfully, not even stopping when Robin shrieked.

“I told you, it’s Dick. If you’re gonna stick around a while longer, it’s only right you call me by my name.”

Robin pushed away the sheets of paper they had covered with mindmaps and leaned forward on the table, mustering Dick.

“Are you also going to stick around?”

Dick scratched the back of his head, eyes darting to the family photo sitting on the window sill. It was a small picture in a wooden frame depicting Alfred, Bruce, Dick and Barbara somewhere in the gardens. Right next to it was another picture of Jason, probably only a few months after his adoption, in his school uniform, standing in the foyer together with Bruce. Bruce was beaming and Jason smiling shyly. Robin wouldn’t know what he’d do if Batman ever smiled at him like that, probably start crying.

“I think I’ll show up a little more often,” Dick finally answered. “The Titans- they’re fine. Blüdhaven, of course, still needs me, but she’s not called Gotham’s sister city for nothing. If Gotham gets worse, Blüdhaven does as well. It’s in my best interest to keep an eye on Gotham as well.”

Dick said Gotham , but Robin guessed what he actually meant was Batman .

“I’ll make sure everything works out here in your absence,” Robin promised. “Or, I’ll try my best at least.”

“That’s more than enough, trust me,” Dick smiled.

That was when Alfred entered the kitchen and with barely ten words, told them to pack up so he could prepare lunch. Quickly, Robin and Dick cleaned up and put the various sheets they had stolen from the arts and crafts room in different folders so Dick could take them home comfortably.

Dick put everything in his blue messenger back and set off to deposit it back in his room. Since he said nothing to Robin, Robin decided to follow him. The family wing looked just like it did a month ago, freshly cleaned with nothing out of place.

Dick opened the door to his room and let Robin inside. Now that Robin was seeing Dick’s room for a second time, he could see how well it fit Dick. The CD player in the corner was angled in such a way that you got the best sound and the stacks of CDs next to it were a wild mix of modern pop, the 80s and bands that used to be popular a couple of years ago.

The right wall of the otherwise blue room was covered by a large mural. The skyline of a city with a lot of air balloons swinging gently in the wind above.

“Where is that?” Robin asked.

“Huh?” Dick turned his head to look in the same direction as Robin. “Oh. That? That’s Paris about ten years back? It was the first big vacation Bruce and I took. We went to Europe and tracked through France. Nobody knew who we were, it was quite refreshing. Especially since I hadn’t gotten used to the fame that came with being Bruce Wayne’s ward yet. There was a tournament or so near Paris and the sky was full of the balloons. It was the highlight of the vacation for me. And if not for the drug-dealing ring we accidentally shattered, I think it would have been Bruce’s as well.”

Robin, who had sat down on the bed, did a double-take at hearing about Dick and Bruce's adventure.

“You accidentally took down a drug-dealing ring? How do you even do that?”

Dick laughed and sat down on the ground, leaning against his bookshelves. “Okay, so it’s probably not even that funny, but you know how Bruce has a sixth sense for crime? So we’re walking down that beautiful alley and Bruce just freezes and squints at some shady dudes in one corner…”

Dick latched onto the story, narrating in great detail Robin and Batman’s adventure in Europe. And because he kept making references to other missions and the like, Dick kept going off track and told Robin more and more stories.

The longer he talked, the happier did Dick seem to become, and Robin too was pulled in by his enthusiasm. Some of these stories Robin knew, but the more he learned, the more did he realize that factual knowledge couldn’t compare to Dick’s vibrant description of the time Batman and Robin saved the holidays. The life Dick had lived was so colorful and fantastic - Robin wanted something like that for himself.

He could do without taking a swim in the sewers, but he’d give everything for Batman to look at him with the same fond exasperation Dick talked of.

“And that’s the reason why Bruce and I shared a hotel room,” Dick ended his monologue. “Talking rooms - is there a reason we relocated to the guest wing?”

Robin shrugged. “I think that’s Alfred’s doing. Bruce wasn’t sleeping well here.”

“Or at all?” Dick guessed with a sigh. “It’s no surprise with Jason’s room next door.”

“I found him in there in my first week,” Robin blurted out. “I don’t know what he was doing. He was just sitting on the ground and I had no idea how to act!”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Dick said. “Everybody grieves in a different way.”

Robin knew that Dick was trying to reassure him, but his words weren’t helping. Robin was well aware of how grief worked, it was part of their job and so he knew it, but he still couldn’t do anything to support Batman because he kept locking Robin out.

“But I still want to help him and I can’t because he won’t even let me come near him.”

“I promise I’ll talk to him when he gets him tonight. Maybe I can get Bruce to slow down a little. We’re not as close as we used to be, but maybe I can improve the situation a little.”

“And what should I do in the meantime?”

Dick reached up and pulled a book out of his shelf. Easily, he threw it at Robin. “Live a little.”

Robin caught the book and turned it around so he could read the cover. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.

The book looked rather old and worn. A quick flip through revealed pages covered in all kinds of ink and markers.

“What’s this?” Robin asked.

“The first Harry Potter book,” Dick answered. “I had to read it for class a couple years back and took a lot of notes in it. Kids your age are supposed to like it-”

“You mean one month going on one decade?” Robin replied snarkily, but Dick didn’t even bother to reply to that.

“-and even beyond that. It’s just a fun book to read. Try to broaden your horizon a little further away from Robin or you’ll go mad.”

Dick fell silent and crossed his arms in front of his chest as he tilted his head slightly. He was observing Robin - no, the mask Robin couldn’t take off.

“And we need to do something about that too. You can’t keep running around in the house with a mask and without a name.”

Robin just rolled his eyes. He supposed this was where he differed from regular humans. Robin was all he was and all he ought to be. He didn’t need to broaden his horizon.

“I have a name! I already told you that! It’s Robin.”

“Yeah, no.” Dick shook his head. “Robin is a title . You need a name.”

Robin didn’t get it. Maybe this was another one of these civilian life things he was supposed to follow now? It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, the others just didn’t understand that Robin was all he would ever be and all he was supposed to be. It was fine, he didn’t mind if he would actually get to do his job.

“I’m fine without, really,” Robin insisted.

From Dick’s sigh, Robin deduced that he didn’t believe him, but it wasn’t like this discussion would go anywhere anytime soon.

“Just try it, alright? You don’t just have vigilantism in your DNA.”

Robin was going to argue that he very much did, going by the components that constructed his DNA and its donors, but decided against it in the last second. If Dick was too stubborn to see it, Robin would just have to accept it and move on. At least he’d have some more entertainment for the next weeks.

“Thanks for the book,” Robin said instead.

Dick smiled. “No problem. You can tell me what you thought of it when you’ve read it. I’m curious to hear your thoughts on it. Bruce would always try to overinterpret the book instead of just enjoying it.”

Robin blinked.

“How do you just enjoy it?”

Dick began to laugh and threw back his head so far, that it knocked against his bookshelf, but even the sudden pain from that didn’t seem to deter him.

“I’m serious!” Robin said, his cheeks flushed red. “Explain!”

But Dick kept on laughing, bright and joyful.

#dc #batfam #batman #dick grayson #tim drake #bruce wayne #robin's requirements #fanfic

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aconitemare · 4 years

Text

[jaydick] Before That, And Colder

Chapter Four

AO3

Previous Chapter

Dick kicks his foot in the air repeatedly, inspecting the pink flowers on his white Oxfords. He’s pretending to ignore the people around him — possibly, he is actually ignoring them, as the outlines of their bodies blur around his fancy footwear. He leans farther back on Jason’s desk, conjuring the picture of ease. To his left rests Jason’s Red Hood helmet in a gargoyle-fashion. Everyone here knows Jason Todd is the Red Hood, but Dick is just Richie Grayson, D-list celebrity. The sleeves of his pretentiously silk bomber jacket, embroidered with colorful roosters, slip slightly down his shoulder.

“Is this really the best time to be hiring people? Specifically this person?” This question comes from James — or “Wingman,” as Jason earlier informed him of. James is up-and-coming, bat-themed, Gotham-based vigilante who believes the Red Hood is absolutely critical to public safety. Dick has not yet shared this detail with Batman, having only received it an hour before this current meeting, but he’s hoping they’ll share a good laugh over that.

“No time like the present,” Jason says without much concern. He stands beside the desk, a few feet from Dick.

Dick catches James crossing his arms from the corner of his eyes. The defensive body language convinces him to focus more on the arrangement of people. Suzie Su still sits on the recliner, seemingly indifferent. Her sisters, one of which Dick recognizes as the waitress who intercepted him and Miguel earlier, flock around Su either on the couch or near her armrest; all except for Night, Dick’s blackjack dealer yesterday, who now occupies a distant corner of the room by herself. Miguel sits in the recliner opposite Suzie Su, playing with his tie. James stands the closest to Dick and Jason and busies himself with looking like he eats nails for breakfast.

“The son of Bruce Wayne is hardly a sound addition to the Outlaws,” James points out.

Suzie Su’s head swivels towards Jason. “Oh, no,” she says, suddenly invested, “Whatever ‘the outlaws’ is, count me out of it. I’m going legit, you promised!”

Jason takes a page from Dick’s book and seats himself on the corner of his desk. He grips the edge, knees spread, so that he looks like he’s riding a horse. For an unstably diverse crowd, he’s rather at ease at the head of it, Dick notes. Jason holds up a silencing finger and begins his address, “Firstly, the Outlaws are too legit for any mere mortal to handle, that includes you, Su, so stuff it. Secondly, James, you can also stuff it because no one’s inviting Richie Rich onto the team except you, it would seem.”

So, does that mean I don’t get to see the Super Secret Clubhouse and make friendship bracelets? Dick almost says. Instead, he receives a text alert and checks his phone to see Bruce left him a message.

What is your plan of action? it reads.

Dick quickly shoots back a non-committal text, wary of Jason sensing Batman’s concern through the phone. Luckily, Jason doesn’t pay Dick’s texting any mind, preoccupied with his stand-off against Wingman.

James persists, undeterred by Jason’s skilled dismissal. “Batman isn’t exactly in your corner, Todd. He is, however, in Wayne’s pocket. As is Richie Grayson.”

Dick frowns; his current persona is apparently no longer a good fit. He will need to adjust accordingly. Dick sits up straighter on the desk and tucks his legs. “I have my own funds, as a matter of fact,” he speaks up. Jason’s eyes slice into him — oh, right, Dick’s not supposed to talk while meeting the in-laws. Oh, well. He continues, “I work for the Bludhaven Police Department.”

Dick touches his jacket collar and inspects the interior fabrice. “I try to dress nice when there might be cameras so I don’t make Bruce look bad, but most of it’s bought off-price at Marshalls.” This last part is a lie as he rarely buys his own photo op clothes. Bruce has a personal stylist who keeps everyone’s wardrobe at the Manor stocked. Dick hit up his old bedroom on the way to the hotel.

“You’re a cop,” James repeats.

Dick holds back a wince. So much for Agent 37’s kick-ass undercover portfolio. “Every cop’s a little dirty in the ‘Haven,” he says, hopefully smoothly.

Unfortunately, James does not find this comforting. “So not only are you a cop who knows about the Iceberg’s business, but you’re not even a good cop?”

Dick points at Jason. “He murders people,” he deflects.

Jason sighs obnoxiously loud. “Richie has information and contacts,” Jason increases his volume when James looks like he wants to say something else, “neither of which are anyone’s business at the moment but mine. Believe it or not, but I’m pretty attached to my life, in both a literal and figurative sense, and so if I say the guy from that one lady-service Pantene commercial is going to keep my organs safely inside my body, rest assured, I have done my research.”

This standing ovation inspires Dick to wonder whether Jason saw that commercial on cable or some other venue. He tries and fails to imagine Jason watching Friends reruns. Maybe he caught it off some gun review video on Youtube. This is the kind of media Dick assumes Jason consumes.

“Great to know,” says Suzie Su flatly. “So, Richie, who’s trying to whack our boss?”

“No one yet. There have been no attempts on his life thus far,” Dick responds. Then, “Also, you can just call me Dick.”

“Shouldn’t be too tough,” Suzie Su remarks.

“The situation will escalate, though,” James states, “There is no doubt that Red Hood is the final target.”

“Correct. Which is why it’s important that we trust each other,” Dick says. He levels a gaze at everyone in the room except for James, which should indicate to him that he’s the object of criticism without presenting Dick as outwardly hostile. “If we are too busy suspecting each other without any evidence, we allow for outside threats to slip past our radar.” Dick can only hope they will take this to heart; it will be harder for him to investigate Jason’s people if they’re also investigating him.

“Truth,” Miguel agrees as he stands to his feet and walks towards Dick. “Although it kind of worked out for us this time, right? You following me, us following you?” As he approaches, he extends a hand and Dick dismounts from the desk. “Welcome to the team, Dick,” Miguel says, clapping Dick on the shoulder as they shake. His smile is warm and sincere. Dick feels an equally genuine grin spread across his face.

“Alright, alright,” Jason says, leaning from his spot on the desk to bat an arm at them. “What did I just say about teams, dude,” he gripes. Miguel shrugs rather blithely before he returns to his chair. Dick appreciates what he hopes will be the one easy-going personality in this tense bunch.

Jason claps his hands together and stands. “Okay, here’s the deal: I want someone always watching my vehicle for the next, fuck, two weeks, I guess? One week?” He looks to Dick for confirmation. Dick mouths, ‘longer.’ “One week to start, cool,” Jason locks in his answer. “I don’t mean from the cameras, as I really am hoping to catch this person ASAP and get back to my regularly scheduled gangbanging.”

Dick watches the crowd: Miguel gives a whoop, Suzie Su rolls her eyes, one of the sisters not standing in the corner laughs.

“So, that means I need you,” Jason flourishes his arm in the air and brings it dramatically down like a hammer, finger pointing sharply at Miguel, “to physically be in the parking lot.”

Miguel looks around in bafflement. “I’m the owner. That would look weird,” he says, gesturing towards himself.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure everyone is lining up for your autograph, too, now come off it. No one here is instantly recognizable except for me, and that’s mostly to do with the helmet,” Jason pats the helmet beside him emphatically, “giving me serious red Darth Vader vibes.”

Dick suppresses a laugh. Jason hears him anyway, but that turns out to be not so bad. Jason’s eyes flicker towards him but they’re absent of reproach, which is how Dick realizes he had expected to be growled at for his humor. But Jason made the joke, didn’t he? He goes so far as to smile, not threateningly, but pleasantly. Dick wants to call it soft even.

Jason’s eyes are back on the ragtag team within the second. He explains properly his reasoning to Miguel. “The subject’s abilities and target range are unknown to us. You’re our safest bet for handling whatever he might be capable of. And you can wear whatever you want.” Dick assumes that last bit is weighted with the implication of a supersuit, although Miguel’s secret identity may very well be known considering the lack of visible confusion on anyone’s face. Of course, that could just be indifference; no one in this room seems particularly interested in each other.

“If you see someone snooping, wait it out. If you see someone put something on my bike, apprehend them and bring them to me where I can then proceed to shoot their brains out,” Jason instructs. Dick tries to say something, but Jason says over his attempt, “If they’re guilty.”

“Not really the problem,” Dick mutters.

“The Su Brigade can, I don’t know, keep doing what you’re doing, I guess? Keep an eye on suspicious figures.”

Dick chimes in, “This time, however, immediately report to Jason or myself. Don’t rush in unless the threat is urgent. Don’t,” he motions to James, “text James, or whatever it is you guys did. That was sloppy and uncoordinated.”

James shifts his weight more evenly. Dick instantly recognizes the implicit challenge and straightens his back. “Text you, huh? What, you the boss now?”

Dick files through his possible responses, weighs the best tone to take, the stance to adopt. Should he pick up the gauntlet and try to assert dominance, or go for diplomacy? He doubts this will come to blows, but the direction he takes this could have later consequences, could affect Jason’s safety even in the long-run.

Dick almost misses the change in Jason’s posture, but it’s instantaneous. “He’s close enough,” Jason has already spoken, no longer leaning against the desk but standing with his hands deceptively plunged into his jeans pockets and his searing green eyes locked on James. “More the boss than you are, at any rate, so yeah, I’d text him.” He sounds almost casual, accent set in a lazy Gotham drawl, yet there’s an angered click to how he sets his teeth. He’s intimidating, alright, the sharp cut of his cheeks complementing his strong jaw. He’s quite Hollwood-esque actually, Dick thinks — at least before he realizes Jason is looking right back at him. Jason raises his eyebrows and spins his fingers in a prompting manner. “Well? Anything else you’d like to derail the meeting with, Dick?”

And just like that, Jason manages to personally undermine the power he just gave him. Dick is bordering on impressed, restrained only by his sudden irritation. Dick simply smiles and says, “You’re the boss.”

“Fantastic. James! How do you feel about interrogating people you can’t beat up?” Jason proposes to the next member of the non-team.

Dick thinks James could question people without beating them up just fine, especially after the practice he got in while interrogating Dick. James doesn’t comment on whether he’s up to the task, however, but replies, “Who am I interrogating?”

Jason grins and quickly bows his body. “A witness. Exciting, right? Unfortunately, no, not exciting. This will suck for you. Daniel Garcia, the second victim, should be at Gotham General Hospital — fingers crossed he has insurance, because otherwise you’ll have to find out where he lives and talk to him there.”

Dick could be projecting, but he thinks James puffs up his chest at this. “I can find anyone anywhere,” vows James.

“I’ve no doubt, buddy. I just would prefer he not have to relive everything the second he gets home because a stranger wants to hear the gory details,” Jason explains. His tone is slightly scolding. There might be some decency in him yet. Dick immediately feels guilty for being surprised. Jason is a good guy. A good guy. He’s said as much to Bruce. Did he forget to tell himself the same thing?

“Bring some flowers to soften things,” Dick suggests.

“Flowers don’t soften a crowbar, Dick,” Jason disagrees. Still, he adds for James, “But yeah, bring flowers. The family won’t like you for it, but they’ll hate you even more if you don’t.”

“Do we have to do anything?” Suzie Su asks, a little unhappily, it would seem. Dick doesn’t trust her. Then again, would she be so openly disloyal if she was double-crossing? The only person in this room Dick trusts is Miguel — and even then, if there’s one thing Batman has been trying to drill into him for half his life, it’s that trust is a liability. Anyone here could logically be a mole. Anyone here could be loyal, too.

“No, Suzie Su, I expect absolutely nothing from you and that’s why I dragged you to a staff meeting, so you could sit on your ass and pick at your nails,” Jason intones. Suzie Su drops her manicured nails to her lap and glares at him. Jason sticks his tongue out in response. “You and your lovely sisters of questionable bloodline are my ears to the ground.”

“So, same as before?”

Jason cocks his head, shakes it up and down as if weighing the question, and says, “K-i-i-i-i-nd of? It’s like what you were doing before, but not complete garbage. Need I remind you that you let this idiot into my office.” Jason jabs his thumb in Dick’s direction.

Miguel raises his finger. He’s properly relaxed in his cushiony recliner, legs crossed and arms spilling over the back. “Ah, but you let the idiot stay,” he reminds Jason.

Dick twists his lips. “Thanks, Miguel. Or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Jason decides. “Alright, everyone out of my office and onto the things I demand of you. Dick, you’re coming with me.”

The crowd is already dispersing. Dick hops off the desk and pats the wrinkles from his pants. “Why’s that? I thought you didn’t want me breathing down your neck.”

Jason’s back is to Dick as he fastens his Red Hood helmet over his head, which tips Dick off that some of his people outside the office might still not know who’s under the mask. Jason’s response is rougher than before. “You saw the tapes, didn’t you?” The energy from only a minute ago has melted from his voice. The helmet lights up then and Jason’s next words are modulated, shrouded in static. “That makes you the expert.”

Dick does not miss the irony of this statement.

___________

Dick has Jason drive him to Bludhaven. Jason has many cars and not a single one is worth less than $80,000. “How do you blend in?” Dick asked on the way to his shitty apartment across the pond, Jason looking absolutely put-upon by the half-hour drive. His Red Hood helmet has been stowed away in a personally customized, hidden compartment. “I don’t,” Jason simply replied. Dead guys, according to Jason, don’t need to feign poverty. Especially if those dead guys are better known for their underground empires and resort casinos. However, two rich men in a luxury vehicle don’t have much business commiserating with the family of boys like Terry Weind. So, the two stop by Bludhaven to pick up Dick’s Saturn and allow him to change into less flamboyant clothes.

Dick chooses a threadbare BPD t-shirt and jeans. Jason stays in his signature ensemble of leather jacket and combat boots. He raises his brows at Dick’s outfit, but Dick insists it’s a good choice. Even if they don’t like the police, he’s still out of uniform and unarmed, and they’ll know this isn’t his territory. He’ll seem like a commuter, which might even win him some subconscious sympathy; many people in downtown Gotham have to commute to Bludhaven, albeit usually for a fishery job and not the police department.

Jason waits in the car for Dick to come out. Dick invites him in, but secretly he’s relieved. The place is a mess. If how he keeps his office is a hint, Jason’s habits are immaculate. They would put Dick to shame. Dick taps Jason’s window to signal they’re switching to the Saturn. Jason takes an excessively long time to part with his car, all but cooing at it, but does eventually make it over. He settles into the passenger seat, looking Dick up and down.

“What?” Dick asks, perhaps defensively. He should’ve said something like, “Like what you see?” but it’s too late for that.

Jason shrugs casually, but his eyes flicker to Dick’s hair. “Nothing. You just look normal now.”

Dick jams his keys into the ignition, because he has to be rough for the car to start, and rolls his eyes. “You mean my hair’s not gay?”

“Eh. Less gay.” And then Jason is reaching out and ruffling his hair, fingers curling through the still-damp waves. Dick stuck his hair under the bathroom sink’s faucet before putting his shirt on. He got water everywhere, but he needed to get the product out. He weirdly hopes Jason doesn’t feel any lingering stickiness, that his hair is soft to touch.

Jason’s face abruptly screws up in confusion as if he isn’t sure how he got here. Slowly, he retracts his hand and sits straight in his seat. Dick didn’t notice how open Jason’s body language was just a moment ago, but he notices how it closes. His knees no longer point towards Dick but to the windshield; his arms, once extended towards him, now fold across his chest. Dick stares at him for a moment, trying to piece together the puzzle he suspects they almost had.

Jason’s presence always has that mystifying effect on him, however, like he’s a monument to all the almosts they’ve been. When Jason was Robin, they were almost friends. When he was the Red Hood, they were almost enemies. Then they might have been brothers, could have been, maybe. There had been that night on the rooftop when Dick had managed to slip through Spyral’s many fingers — when Barbara had run away and Damian had embraced him and Tim demanded why, why — Jason had drawn blood as his voice broke because you don’t do that to your. Almost.

They are always on the verge of some new meaning.

“Well?” asks Jason. “Are you waiting for me to set up the GPS? You know the address, let’s go.”

Dick quickly recovers and begins edging out from his spot between two other parked cars on the street. “What are we, drag racing? Jeesh.” They avoid traffic for the drive over but do swing into a corner store once they’re in Gotham again. Jason buys the most expensive bouquet available while Dick fiddles with a rack of playing cards. Pokémon? Magic? Would Terry care about either of those games? He sees Jason head to the counter and grabs a random card pack to check out. His phone buzzes in his pocket just as he finishes counting off the dollar bills. He hands the cashier $16 and unlocks his phone. It’s from Bruce.

Any progress?

Dick begins typing out an answer when he remembers the boundaries he agreed on with Jason. He said he wouldn’t share any details with Bruce unless Jason okay’d it. He could let Jason know Bruce is asking, but even mentioning Bruce tends to sour him. Dick would rather get through this meeting with Terry Weind first. He makes a mental note to inform Jason later and give Bruce a non-answer if he says no.

Ten minutes later and they’re standing on narrow porch steps. The wooden planks are dark and splintery and covered in cigarette butts where an ash tray has been knocked down. Dick squats down and picks it up; ceramic, woodsy-green and leaf-shaped. He sets it atop the paint-chipped banister while Jason knocks on the door. The walls are thin enough that Dick can trace the sound of someone walking down the stairs. It’s summery outside today, the earth baked through by the sun, but he’s thinking of winters down here. Even with a good furnace, these walls must let the chill in.

A woman opens the door in her nightgown, one hand on the knob and the other on the frame. Her eyes are red and the skin beneath them sags. Her skin is almost ashen. She looks tired. She is tired, she’s exhausted, Dick can feel it when he looks at her. Her exhaustion is a heavy substance that spreads out and sinks into his flesh.

“Are you Terry’s mom?” Jason asks. He has the flowers already at his chest. His voice is stiff with emotion. Dick recalls his comment about Daniel reliving trauma and wonders if that’s what Jason is doing right now.

The woman nods and says that, yes, she is, but little changes in her expression. Dick had been expecting confusion, but she accepts the flowers without hesitation. Evidently, they are not remotely the first ones to share condolences. “My name’s Laura,” she says, touching the waxy petal of a calla lily. Her voice is soft and deep as if it’s been anchored to the bottom of the ocean.

“I’m Jason.”

“Dick,” Dick says after him.

Laura opens her mouth silently for a few seconds before carefully telling them, “I appreciate you boys coming here and wishing us well. It’s been hard, but we’re grateful to the community’s response, it’s been wonderful. I hope you don’t mind me not inviting you in, it’s just that I work grave and don’t get much sleep, and Terry’s resting.”

“We understand. But actually, we’re not just here to offer our sympathy — though you do have it, of course,” Dick conveys. He rushes the words of each clause so his speech comes out in quick, nervous chunks. He’s dipping head, taking up as little room as possible while moving closer to her. Jason takes a step back to accommodate him. He wants to represent himself as sincere, perhaps too sincere to the point of being clumsy. People often think inept and trustworthy are the same thing; the logic goes, you can’t be hiding any tricks up your sleeve if you’re more likely to spill them on the floor.

“If you turn us away, we get it, don’t worry,” assures Dick, “but this is our city and our kids are getting snatched.”

Laura begins shaking her head. “Oh, no, he’s not answering any questions — ”

“We won’t ask as many questions as the police,” Dick hurries to say. “We don’t need to. We,” here, Dick breaks off his speech and looks uncertainly at Jason, feigning hesitance. Then he takes a galvanizing breath, readying for his big leap, this information he’s sharing only with Laura. “I work part-time at the Park Row Memorial. I’m a guard, similar work to what I do with the Bludhaven Police. We have it monitored 24/7 so it doesn’t become a high-crime area again.” Dick sighs in frustration and bites his lips. “Laura,” he says firmly, staring into her eyes. Her pupils have dilated along his story. Good. “I saw Terry that night. The police haven’t even asked Park staff yet, they don’t care. But I saw it happen and I think I can do something about it.”

The best cover story is always based in reality. The best lies are true.

Laura’s eyes drop the ground as she thinks. She’s also biting her lip. Dick ponders over whether she does that often and Dick got lucky, or if she’s mirroring him. Either way, he’s won her over. She shuffles to the side and waves them in, her movements less languid than before.

She leads them to the stairwell and says, “If he doesn’t want to answer questions, he doesn’t have to. I’m not going to force him, you got it? Get what you can and hope it’s useful.” With this, she climbs the steps to the second floor, Jason and Dick following at an appropriate distance. They pause at the top step while she enters Terry’s room and explains in hushed tones his guests. She relates Dick’s reason for being here and then there’s a long pause before Dick detects a faint, “Sure.”

Dick and Jason share a look that confirms: they’re in. Laura places a light hand on Jason’s bicep and guides them to the door. “I’ll stand right here,” she says firmly and waves them forward. Dick looks around for a chair, sees none, and settles on the windowsill facing Terry’s bed. He’s faired better than the next two kids, all injuries considered. He was out of the hospital in a month. He lies in his twin-sized mattress beneath a crisp sheet, a blue comforter shoved to the foot of his bed. A square bandage covers his right cheek, there’s stitching over his right eyebrow, and there’s more stitches on the right side of his skull. His right arm and knee have been set in casts. Dick remembers him curling onto his side at one point in the video.

In the wake of the other victims’ hospital records (courtesy of Oracle), Terry’s assault had been carried out with perfunctory brutality. Dick recollects the scene but recalls no hesitation in the attacker’s swings, yet their violence has clearly increased. Perhaps they are doing someone else’s dirty work and the job has just now awakened a taste for pain in them. Or maybe it’s one guy after all and they’re adjusting to the role.

“So, you know the fucker who did this?” Terry speaks up first. His voice is a little rough and definitely fatigued. Despite his current infirmity, Dick can tell he’s a sturdy kid. He’s got the same build Jason had at that age, youthfully broad with natural muscle in the absence of training. A body with room to grow in.

Dick shrugs. “Not personally. But we hold out hope. What did his face look like? Any defining features?” he attempts, even knowing that Terry’s report claimed to make out nothing from the night of the attack.

Terry was looking at Jason beforehand, which Dick can’t blame him for. Jason takes up most of the room as he stands by Terry’s feet, stock straight with his massive arms folded. Dick has a habit of downsizing Jason in his head. In general, Dick’s guilty of subconsciously diminishing certain people’s threat levels, letting his familiarity with them obscure the danger they still pose. He does his best to put himself in Terry’s shoes and see what he might see; he accomplishes this by summoning the first night he encountered the Red Hood before he was also Jason Todd, fallen boy wonder. Even without the vigilante get-up, the man’s intimidating.

Now that Dick has asked a question, however, Terry’s eyes appraise him. Dick once again folds in on himself, tucking his arms closer to his sides and leaning back so he’s as out of Terry’s space as he can be. Then Terry’s eyes stray to the floor and he mumbles, “Looked like nothing. It was dark.” But he doesn’t say it like it was nothing.

“You saw something,” Dick contests. He’s not going to wheedle or coax, he decides, because that would just leave Terry room to equivocate. “You don’t know what you saw, but you saw something, and whatever that is will help us more than pretending there weren’t streetlamps.”

Terry grimaces. The twitch of his battered face reminds Dick of his age and his heart aches. There should be a grace period for children, an exception made for those still new to this earth. He hates that pain is one of the first things they learn. “He was white, I guess,” Terry supplies. His good fingers have found a loose thread on the hem of his pushed-down sheets. He picks at it. “He never said a word the whole time. It was quiet. He — I saw his hands. I thought, I thought the police would find his thumbprints or whatever, on me, but that’s not how it works, they said. They were all fucked up.”

“The hands or the police?” Jason interjects.

Terry doesn’t look up from his loose thread, but one half of his mouth pulls up into a faint, flickering smile. It manages to be bright even so. “The hands. There were old scars all over the knuckles. Dry, too, like he never heard of lotion.”

Dick supposes the attacker could work in manual labor, but it’s unlikely if there were truly that many scars and all old. “Just the knuckles?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Dick guesses he’s experienced with combat. The ugly, close-up kind. Still, just the knuckles, that sounds more like punishment than accident. And the dry skin? That could easily be eczema, although wouldn’t a seasoned killer think to cover up, prevent skin follicles from falling into a lab tech’s hands? It is summer, but Gotham runs more humid than dry, so perhaps they’re dealing with a foreigner. “And the face?” he prompts.

Terry abruptly drops his hand from the nervous thread and sighs raggedly. “Nothing, man. I couldn’t see anything, okay, it was,” Terry falters, “confusing.”

“Confusing how?” Jason asks.

“I don’t know!” Terry’s voice pitches in frustration. “It was weird, all swirly and shit.”

Dick can hear the criticism leak into Jason’s tone when he curtly repeats, “Swirly.”

Terry backpedals. “I said I don’t know,” he mutters.

Swirly voices sound familiar to Dick. He used to have one for a time when he played James Bond for Spyral. “I think we might have a contact, Jay,” Dick muses.

“Really?” Jason says with noticeable surprise. “Swirly’s our big break?”

“Emphasis on the might and ixnay on the big.” To Terry, he says, “Tell me, does tsuchigumo ring any bells?”

Terry’s face scrunches up. “Does what huh?”

Dick will take that as a no. “Oh, well. Still worth looking into,” he says. Dick stands and retrieves the card pack from his plastic bag. He holds it up for Terry to see before setting it down on the bed. Terry takes it immediately and brings it up to his face for inspection. “Your mom has the flowers. I wasn’t sure what to get you, but let me know if you need or want anything. Oh.” Dick swivels his head around the room. There’s not much to it aside from a bed, a dresser, and a box T.V. collecting dust. “Do you have something I can write my number on?”

Jason chooses that moment to step forward, sliding between Dick and where Terry lies. He leans across, a crisp, laminated paper balanced between his index and middle finger. “Here’s my card. Let me know if you have any more information or if either of you need help,” he explains. Terry sets Dick’s gift down and gingerly accepts the card. He flips it over: no logo, just a phone number.

“That’s it?” says Terry. “What contact? Who did this?”

“It’s too soon to tell. I wish I had more to give you two,” Dick says sympathetically to Terry and Laura, the latter of whom hasn’t left her post by the door. She rests her cheek on the frame and watches on.

Terry has more questions though and he’s edging on excited. “Are you P.I.’s? Why do you even care? I bet you fucking did this, or one of your boys — ”

“I understand your distrust,” Dick says over him. He glances nervously at Laura to gauge what she thinks of the accusation and if she’s about to step in. She’s a little straighter, body no longer depending on the wall, but her face is still impassive if alert. Dick hurries to smooth this over. “You don’t know us well enough to understand why we care. We have to prove ourselves, I get that. And we will. Until then, you’ve got nothing to lose, right? All we know is you didn’t see anything.”

Terry stares at him silently, suspicion darkening his eyes. There is risk in coming here, of course, depending on how well Terry’s attacker can trace Jason’s footsteps. But Dick has already weighed the risks and he’s betting that Terry’s part is done here insofar as the criminal is concerned. Luckily, Terry can’t identify what he’s got to lose or how much he has told them between the lines, so the charges drop like that.

There’s a few beats of silence before Jason starts fidgeting. “Yea-a-a-h, we’re going to go now,” he announces, pointing over his shoulder towards the window. Dick could cringe, he’s so awkward.

“Thanks to both of you,” Dick says and smiles as warmly as he can. He trails closely behind Jason who shuffles towards the door, his body too tall and too broad to fit comfortably in the modest room. Unthinking, the pads of Dick’s fingers feather over Jason’s back as if to guide him forward. As Jason moves, Dick lets his fingers linger in the air, covering up the touch with empty space. He curls his fingers in and tucks them behind his back. Laura follows them out.

“Thank you again,” Dick says at the door. “We’ll be in touch if anything develops,” he promises. And he will be; if not as Dick then certainly as Nightwing.

Laura thanks them half-heartedly. Dick suddenly feels self-conscious about the Pokémon cards. He may as well have given them a box with nothing inside it or a flashlight without a bulb. He heads back to the car, feeling Laura’s heavy gaze on his shoulders the whole way.

Dick is buckling himself in when Jason opens the passenger door. “Mind sharing with the class what information was so decisive you had no further questions?” he asks as he climbs into the car.

“No questions Terry could answer. This is the best we can do for a lead,” Dick explains. He needs to make a call, but that will have to wait until they’re on the road and not idling outside a victim’s house. Maybe he can take them to a restaurant, buy Jason a drink, a friendly gesture. Would Jason want to drink with him though?

“Yeah, about that,” Jason says as the car shoots off, “what lead?”

Scratch the drink; neither of them are lightweights, but on principle, they shouldn’t drink during an ongoing investigation. Still, he could buy them some sub sandwiches. He used to buy food for Tim all the time back in the day, as a reprieve from the typical Batman and Robin style of accidentally fasting until the case is resolved.

They reach a redlight almost immediately. Dick drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Spyral uses this tech called ‘Hypnos 2.0.’ They slide in kind of like contacts? They’re eye implants basically, but they transmit information between your brain and the brain of whoever’s looking at you. Their most common application was hiding your identity. If someone looked at you, they’d just see a scrambled mess instead of a face.”

Jason’s face scrunches up as he stares out the windshield. He scratches his head. “Scrambled like Picasso or.”

The light turns green. “More like a spiral,” Dick says lightly, nodding conversationally.

“Thematic,” Jason comments.

“Very. And the uniforms weren’t too shabby either.” He adds the joke more to test the waters than anything, gauge how delicate a topic Spyral is between them. Everyone in their family has a slightly different relationship with Dick’s double life. Bruce and Damian’s have been the easiest, marked by faint curiosity about his activities and begrudging acceptance of help from associated colleagues. The others have been noticeably more dodgy and uncomfortable regarding for Spyral. Dick’s stint as as Agent 37 has made everyone evasive, even for bats.

If Jason would normally have an emotional reaction to Spyral, he’s too preoccupied for one now. Dick can practically see the gears in his mind turning as his eyes narrow and his chin falls to rest on his hand. Dick feels simultaneously relief and shame; of course, Spyral is just a lead. Spyral may have been Dick’s life at one point, but to Jason, it’s just an organization. At best, contacting Spyral could save his life. At worst, well, Dick’s not expecting Jason to unpack whatever baggage Dick left in Gotham.

Dick resists the urge to grimace at his own thoughts. He’s overthinking. Can one overthink a ruthless spy agency that up until a year ago controlled his every movement?

Jason’s voice, slow and thick with the sound of a city that’s always been his, reels Dick back to shore. “Dare I ask what the uniform entailed?”

“Cargo pants,” Dick answers simply. He’s watching the road ahead, but he can hear Jason make a pleasantly surprised noise. They pass a fire hydrant painted to look like a sunflower. Dick thinks it’d be nice for Bludhaven to do that and makes a note to push the idea at city hall after the case.

“So, you think that this guy is from Spyral?” Jason asks.

Dick shrugs. “That, or he’s connected enough to snag some tech. We should check first with the other two victims, see if their descriptions match up with Terry’s. If they do, it’s probably Spyral and not some low-grade black market street vendor. Nine of out ten optometrists do not recommend mind control contact lenses.”

Jason slams his hand down on the middle compartment. “Mind control?” he exclaims. When Dick glances at him, Jason’s expression is mostly shock with a sliver of what might be plain rage. But that would be an overreaction considering all the other crimes Spyral is guilty of. All the crimes they’re guilty of, especially Red Hood, although making that argument would be more trouble than it’s worth.

Dick tries not to let Jason’s sheer judgment weigh on him. Dick has far more pressing guilt elsewhere to torture himself over. Still, it’s hard not to feel righteous rage on Jason’s behalf. He often forgets this part of Jason’s character, this abrupt sense of justice that powers him, but it’s no less prominent than it is in Bruce or himself. It might actually be stronger in Jason, a little left of center, but bleeding red nonetheless. Unfortunately, car safety dictates Dick not be on the receiving end of justice, so he replies as casually as possible, “Well, that’s what Hypnos is, essentially.”

“No way.” Jason points an accusatory finger that Dick sees from his peripheral. A street corner features a hot dog stand. Dick nearly pulls over, but the finger might kill whatever buzz a chili dog can offer. “Don’t ‘that’s-what-Hypnos-is-Jason- obviously ’ me. You just said it transmits info.”

Dick did not think his tone had come off condescending in the least. But if that’s what Jason got from it, then perhaps he missed casual and landed on dismissive. Bludhaven must be eroding his tact already. “Sorry. When I said it transmits information, I meant it as a blanket statement for everything it does. Hypnos can alter memories, which is more-or-less how the identity protection works, by modifying one’s memory of a face. It can send someone a location address or really anything you have stored in your own memory, which is helpful. It can also send orders.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s helpful, too,” Jason derides. He looks like he smelled something bad. Was Dick this perturbed by Hypnos when he first joined Spyral? He doesn’t think so. He had been so quickly embroiled in so many terrible things. What was a little crowd control in the face of cold, efficient, and constant murder?

The guns. The feel of one is his hand like death itself, how they loomed in his bedroom and among his gear, beckoning him closer to an edge everyone wanted to push him off of. The guns had overshadowed all else for him.

“Either way,” Dick carries on, “it’s unlikely this guy has his hands on Spyral tech without Spyral knowing something about him. They keep close enough watch over people that have nothing to do with them, let alone people that have access to their technology. He could be anywhere from an engineer to a passing contact, but he’s no ghost.”

“Terrific. Exactly what I need, a mind-controlling stalker from an quasi-omniscient spy organization hellbent running around on the streets of Gotham.”

Dick shrugs. “Gotham’s had it worse.”

“Have I?”

“I don’t know. Have you?” Dick retorts.

Jason scowls. “Wouldn’t be my first assassination attempt, I suppose,” he concedes.

Dick perks up and offers him a grin. “And it won’t be your last!” he crows.

Jason just stares at him, utterly perplexed. His brows are furrowed and his mouth is curled above his teeth in bewilderment.

“Because you’ll be alive,” Dick hurriedly explains. “You know, like, woohoo!” He takes one hand off the wheel to pump the air triumphantly.

“Woohoo,” Jason repeats hollowly. “Insanity.”

“What?” asks Dick. They will be coming up on the grinder shop soon. Should he suggest lunch to Jason or just drag him in? He’s leaning towards dragging. That seems more effective.

“That we’re all just living to hopefully get killed a day that’s not tomorrow,” Jason observes.

It’s not more cynical than funny, but something in Jason’s tone — the utter resignation, perhaps — makes Dick laugh anyway. “Everyone on earth’s on borrowed time, really,” he says, not unhappily. Death hasn’t frightened him since he was young. Exposure therapy, he called it once during some Titans mission that feels a lot farther in the past than it is. “The reckless and foolhardy like us, we’re just more aware of it.”

Jason blows air out from his nose in a mix between a snort and a laugh. “And here I thought vigilante-types were less aware of their own mortality.”

“Are you kidding? You have to know you’re walking towards death to find that exact path each night. Snatched purses, drug rings, elitist assassins dressed as owls, fear gas and escaped convicts and murderous clowns — and we run right towards them with open arms,” Dick says, irony guiding his grin as Jason smirks back at him.

“And open chest cavities, half the the time,” Jason tacks on.

Dick nods fervently. “Yes, let’s not forget that,” he tries to say seriously, but laughter trips him on the last word. “I don’t know. I think it’s all very sane, actually, to see what’s going on and get involved, do what you can to make everything a little bit better. But too much sanity can look like insanity, for sure.”

Jason does snort this time. “Keep moralizing like that and you’ll sound straight out of a conversation between the Joker and B.”

Dick wrinkles his nose. “Ew. I hope not.”

“‘We’re the same, you and I,’” Jason croons in a wispy, sing-song voice. “‘Sane and in-sane.’”

Dick can make out the small, white-background-red-letters sign of Hester’s Grinders a few yards down the road. There’s just enough room before the fire hydrant — this one plain, chipped red — to safely park. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll keep my philosophies to myself. And so long as we’re changing the subject — hungry?”

Previous Chapter

#jaydick #dickjay #dc #fanfiction for the void

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thecomicsnexus · 5 years

Photo

BATMAN #368, DETECTIVE COMICS #535 FEBRUARY 1984 BY DOUG MOENCH, DON NEWTON, BOB SMITH, ALFREDO ALCALÁ, GENE COLAN AND ADRIENNE ROY

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC DATABASE)

After their successful victory over Poison Ivy, Batman and Jason Todd have returned to the Batcave, where they start thinking of names for Jason's new costumed identity. At that moment, they are surprised by Dick Grayson, who has come to the cave to inform them about an important decision. Dick can no longer work under his sidekick identity as leader of the Teen Titans. He has also noticed that Batman and "Robin" were responsible for capturing the Joker and since it wasn't him in the case, he deduced the obvious truth. Finally, Dick has come to decide that it's time to pass on the Robin identity and he gives Jason full permission to use the Robin costume and continue his legacy. While the eager boy goes to change his outfit, Dick and Bruce share a touching moment and they are thankful for each other's presence in their lives. Jason wears the Robin outfit and Dick knows it's time for him to leave. When Bruce asks him what identity he is going to use next, Dick doesn't have an answer for this.

Now that he is officially Robin, Jason is concerned that the public will not recognize his own personal merits and Batman makes him understand that they work for justice and not for public recognition. Batman also knows that Jason is worried because of the years of legacy he has to live up to, but working together, the two of them live up to the standards of the old Dynamic Duo, although with a touch more of unnecessary violence. As their activities become known across the city, Vicki Vale makes sure to give the heroes all the advertisement they could ask for in her newspaper.

Meanwhile in Montreal, Alfred Pennyworth and his daughter Julia learn that her adoptive father was in fact murdered.

Elsewhere in Gotham, Crazy Quilt has hired a scientist to create a new helmet for him, one that would allow him to see again after he was blinded years ago by Robin. The new helmet is successful and equally powerful as the previous one. After killing the scientist, Crazy Quilt learns that Robin is back in action with Batman and he sets his plan to kill Robin, in motion.

Before going out on patrol, Jason is having concerns about people not being able to tell the difference between him and Dick Grayson. Later, Batman and Robin go out on patrol and Batman deduces that Crazy Quilt must be out looking revenge against Robin. Batman leaves Robin behind as he goes to investigate some special lights, but once Robin is alone, he is attacked by Crazy Quilt, who believes the young one is the old Robin. When Batman realizes he has been decoyed, he returns to Jason, only to find him beaten to a pulp and he assumes the kid has been killed.

Batman realizes that Jason Todd has not been killed and he takes the boy's beaten body back to Wayne Manor, where he provides medical care until his recovery. At dawn, Jason wakes and tells Batman that he was attacked by Crazy Quilt, but that the crook ran away when Batman approached. Bruce tells Jason to rest a while and the kid decides to spend the day in the Batcave.

Meanwhile in Montreal, Alfred and his daughter, Julia continue the investigations of her adoptive father's murder and back in the GCPD Headquarters, Harvey Bullock has taken a ruthless approach against crime.

At night, Batman is ready to go out and he is shocked to see Jason already wearing the Robin suit. He tries to talk to the boy, but Jason is in some kind of trance and attacks Batman, leaving him unconscious as he walks out to the city. Robin eventually arrives at the docks near the Gotham River, where Crazy Quilt is expecting him with several thugs ready to attack. Batman recovers a few minutes later and follows a clue left by Jason.

Robin is capable of dealing with most of the criminals and holds his ground until Batman arrives and they take down the thugs. Crazy Quilt then tries to eliminate Robin once and for all, but he fails, as the Boy Wonder has come prepared to fight him and uses a special device to reflect Quilt's light back to him. Then, Robin realizes that Quilt is only able to see thanks to his helmet and having hypnotized Quilt with his own light, Robin commands him to destroy his helmet and finally to go to sleep.

In the aftermath, Robin explains that he was hypnotized during his first fight with Quilt and that the villain introduced post-hypnotic commands on his mind, so that he would be forced to walk into his trap. However, knowing this, but unable to say anything about it, Jason created the device that helped him in the final battle using equipment from the Batcave. Batman is proud to see that Jason is living up to the challenge and keeping the name of Robin very high.

REVIEW

Jason Todd: Dying since 1984.

Doug Moench is finally bringing back the dynamic duo. Batman and Robin have been at odds since 1969, so it is kind of refreshing to see them like in the old times. Jason, even if he is not Dick Grayson, brings some light into Batman’s quest.

The art is a bit uneven. At times it looks great, and other times incomplete. This may be caused by seeing the digital copies of the comic. Single color backgrounds look better on paper, for some reason.

This is also the final step for independence for Dick. He passed on the mantle of Robin. He is over it. He is now a man. It isn’t common for sidekicks to do this. Sometimes they die and come back with a different identity, other times they take up the mantle of their mentors... but passing on the mantle and becoming something different, that’s rare.

And Jason is scared. It is still too crazy that Batman just adopted this kid and made him Robin. Poor thing almost got beaten to death on his first outing.

I give this story a score of 7

#ed hannigan #Dick Giordano #gene colan #anthony tollin #batman80 #batman #robin #dick grayson #jason todd #dc comics #comics #review #1984 #modern age #crazy quilt #titans

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violetsmoak · 5 years

Text

Appetence [8/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #cemetery #paranormal investigator

First Chapter

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

________________________________________________________________

Jason is actually surprised when his office isn’t immediately descended upon by bats or birds or other nasty little creatures of the night.

It makes him like Red Robin—Tim—a little more.

(Not that he didn’t already.)

It may or may not have been one of the reasons he had to bail so fast the other night. The combination of not wanting to discuss his avoidance of Gotham, and the pained, earnest expression on Tim’s face when he asked about it. The one that made Jason feel guilty about it—which, why should he feel guilty, he doesn’t even know the kid—and sent him peeling out of the bar as fast as possible.

Of course, he doesn’t really think he’s going to be able to avoid Tim forever. There’s still that dark presence attached to him; one he needs to find out more about before he can do anything about it.

Still, it’s not an imminent threat, and he’s not sure how to broach that conversation.

By the way, you have this kind of shadow following you? It’s bigger than I’ve ever seen on anyone before. Might want to do something about that. Oh, how do I know? Yeah, I happen to see ghosts.

Tim might be used to all kinds of weird shit since he’s from Gotham, but admitting that you see dead people is something even established occultists don’t do on the regular. Either you end up being solicited for all kinds of ridiculous requests about the afterlife or have someone get offended and angry because they think you’re lying to them.

Or, you know, thrown into an asylum for talking to people no one can see.

In his experience, none of those things are fun.

And then there’s the other thing.

The small but strong, smooth voice, and the slightly too-long hair and the eyes that look as deep and dangerous as the Atlantic—Tim apparently checks all of Jason’s boxes and they’ve only met the one time.

Or more than one time, as it turns out. He just wasn’t aware of it.

“You know, you might be talented in other ways, but those fries aren’t going to burst into flame if you keep glaring at them.”

Jason glances up to where Trista is doing her weekly inventory; the pub is empty but for Jason, who was feeling too lazy to walk a few blocks to the local grocery for an actual healthy lunch.

“Who says I’m trying?”

“Oh, no, you see, that was my clever way of initiating a conversation without it seeming out of the blue. You’ve obviously got something on your mind.”

“I have a lot on my mind. Constantly. Most of it related to the sad sacks milling around waiting for me to solve their problems.”

“But that’s not what that is this time,” she points out. “This time I think it’s got something to do with the pretty boy who came in here the other night.”

“You’ve been sampling your own product.”

“Shut up, you know I’m a teetotaler. And I’ve seen you beat people up for less than looking at one of the girls out there the way you were looking at Blue Eyes. He can’t be older than the kids that run for the mafia.”

“He’s almost eighteen,” Jason says defensively, and then feels the blood rush from his face, because oh god, I’m trying to justify it what is wrong with me?

That earns a raised eyebrow from the bartender. “And how do you know that? Did you Face-Stalk him the minute you noped out of here?”

“Did I…what?” Jason asks, staring at her in puzzlement. He knows what the words mean individually, but the meaning behind what she’s suggested is lost on him.

Trista sighs. “How do I know more millennial slang than you do? You’re like ten years younger than me.”

“Because I was dead and you’re forever young at heart?”

“Smooth. You’re still paying for your fries.”

Jason makes a face at her but is relieved when she leaves the subject alone. Trista might tease and caution, but she doesn’t pry; just waits for the story to tumble out on its own.

Must be some kind of barkeep skill. But it’s not going to work today.

He tosses a twenty on the table—well beyond what the chips are actually worth—and heads back to his office.

Settling back at his desk, behind the clunky computer that looks like it might be as old as Jason, he scowls at the screen.

He might not know what ‘Face-Stalk’ means, but he can guess. And it hits a little too close to home.

Jason may or may not have spent the morning after his little interview with Tim doing research on his replacement, learning whatever he could about Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne.

And doesn’t that complicate things. The little shit neglected to mention that little tidbit.

Jason never bothered learning much about the Robins who came after him; it was too painful a reminder of a life that was no longer his. Of a family that moved on so easily following his death that they stuck another kid in the suit like Jason had never worn it.

Because of how often the world is in some kind of peril, he was never completely ignorant of them. He’s seen broadcasts of big showdowns in California and other places where Capes get together and get their hero on. He had watched his replacement and Nightwing joking and laughing, closer than Jason and Dick had ever been and decided he didn’t want to know anything more.

He’s starting to see why that might have been an oversight on his part.

It seems Tim Drake lived a few estates down from Wayne manor. They were goddamn neighbors and Jason never knew.

Which is a shame.

He could have used actual friends as the newly adopted son of Bruce Wayne; it might have made the transition easier. If he’d had someone to fall back on, someone outside of the Mission to talk to about what he was feeling, maybe he might not have been so determined to go to Ethiopia.

“Well, now, that’s not true,” Sheila says, making Jason jump as she suddenly materializes in thin air. “You were going to come looking for me no matter what.” He shoots her a glare. “You realize you’re talking out loud, right?”

“And you realize most people give a warning before they walk into another person’s living space?” he retorts. “I could have been doing anything in here.”

Sheila pretends to examine the water damage in the corner of the office. “As if you’re that interesting.”

“Is there something you need?”

“To move on.”

“Please, be my guest.”

She glares at him. “I would if you weren’t so thick.”

“If you’re going to start with that shit again, you can go back to wherever you go when you’re not here,” he grumbles. “I’m not in the mood for this argument again.”

“That’s not actually why I’m here,” Sheila replies.

“Oh, really? Imagine that.”

She ignores that. “The boy is dangerous. You should stay away from him.”

“Of course he’s dangerous, he was trained by B.”

“Not for that reason. You know what I’m talking about.” She shivers—if ghosts can actually shiver. “That shadow that’s attached to him. It’s feeding. On him. On others. You should stay away.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “On a normal person, that might actually sound like motherly concern. But we both know that’s not your thing.”

“You’re right. If that thing decides to make a meal out of the stubborn little medium, I’m stuck here for all eternity.”

“And there it is.”

“Self-preservation is not a sin,” Sheila informs him, before vanishing.

“Having selfish motives is,” Jason mutters to himself, as he goes back to his work.

But the fact is, if Sheila’s uneasy about the aura Tim’s giving off, that’s a bigger problem than he thought. For the most part, ghosts and spirits don’t interact with one another. They need a human conduit or emotion to use as grounding. If a malevolent presence is strong enough to disturb the personal sphere of other ghosts as well as the living, then that suggests a growing nexus of negative energy.

And any number of bad things can come from that.

Jason’s research has so far confirmed what Tim had said about his parents’ deaths—the potential reason the kid’s aura got disturbed in the first place. Negative energy needs some kind of disruption or inciting incident to thrive, and that’s probably what kicked it off. Both of them were murdered—one poisoned in a voodoo ritual, the other butchered by Captain Boomerang a few years later.

And that’s not the last time Death took someone from you, is it?

As a vigilante, he lost teammates—the Super kid and the tiny speedster. Bruce’s death, however temporary, still happened, still hurt. And then there’s the entire year and a half where the newest Robin, Bruce’s son, doesn’t appear anywhere. Tim mentioned it was because he was dead, and whatever his personal feelings are toward the kid, he couldn’t have not been affected by the death of an eleven-year-old that for all intents and purposes is his little brother. More recently, the public record notes the death of Tim’s stepmother from an apparent suicide in a psychiatric facility.

All that trauma and death happening to him so close together would explain a dark presence clinging to him, at least to some degree. But it shouldn’t be as dense as it is. Negative energy like that is supposed to dissipate as a person deals with whatever is causing it—in this case, grief.

So either he’s not dealing with it—which is possible considering his mentor and considering how most Capes like to brush the emotional shit under the rug—or something about him is actively drawing it to him. To it.

It sort of reminds him of something John told him he encountered in Japan, but he can’t remember the specifics.

Jason thinks the catalyst might be related to something Tim didn’t mention, the part of the story he obviously skipped over when it looked like he was reliving something traumatic.

Joker-related traumatic.

Somehow he doubts Tim will be as forthcoming with that experience as he was giving the rundown of the year Jason missed. If only there was a way to start that conversation in an inconspicuous way…

Of course, that would mean starting a conversation first. Which depends on whether he calls me or not.

Reflexively, he digs his phone out to check if there have been any missed calls and then shoves it away when he realizes what he’s doing.

He is not waiting by the phone for him to call. If this were an imminent problem, he could easily get in contact with Tim—he highly doubts the number to Wayne Manor has changed, and even if it has, it’s just a matter of calling the company line at WE and finding someone to let him speak to Tim Wayne.

(And yes, he might have found out where he worked. But that’s public record, and not an indication of any other untoward interest.)

But it’s not an imminent problem, and he’s not getting involved unless Tim asks him to, and even then he’ll probably stay out of it because he promised himself when he came back to Gotham he would avoid any drama related to the Bats.

Even if one of them is really hot.

Jailbait, he reminds himself doggedly. Jailbait, jailbait, jailbait-with-Batman-as-a-stand-in-father. Just an all-around bad idea.

And so, Jason dutifully closes down the webpages and ridiculous amount of open tabs on his browser and prepares himself to do some actual work related to his job.

The low-paying, barely acceptable job…

He spends a few days building up his business, putting the word out about his services and specialties. He makes rounds to suppliers that John told him about, stocks up on the usual staples like candles and holy water takes on the occasional haunting (and is forced to desecrate a grave or two in the process when the spooks get nasty).

Things are actually going well for a while, enough so that he (almost) forgets about Tim and his shadowy parasite, doesn’t have to deal with anymore cryptic warning visits from Sheila and even starts to relax into an honest-to-goodness routine.

Of course, it’s too much to expect that the brief lull can continue in peace. Tim’s promise not to say anything or not, it’s only a matter of time before Batman cottons on to Jason’s presence. Red Robin might be on the outs with him and the rest of the family for whatever reason, but he doubts anything would be bad enough to keep the former Boy Wonder from sharing such a juicy tidbit as Jason’s resurrection and return to Gotham.

Considering his background, the kid probably feels too much of an obligation to Bruce not to say anything. And buried beneath layers of denial and his own naïve plans, Jason knows there was never a scenario where he could stay under Bruce’s radar for the rest of his life.

Not as long as he decided to stay in Gotham.

But because this is Jason, so of course everything whatever he’s involved in always goes to shit, he doesn’t wake up in his office-cum-bedroom one night with the lights cut and Bruce looming over him in the dark.

Instead, he gets attacked while in the middle of burning remains in a graveyard.

Or, about to burn some remains.

One minute, he’s standing over the freshly dug grave with his lighter and accelerant, surgical mask and visor on because that shit burns—the next, he’s being hauled backward and knocked into a headstone, tools going flying.

When he looks up, his breath gets stuck in his throat.

Five years later, and he still feels like a snot-nosed kid staring up at the Bat in stunned amazement. Even though he’s long since caught up to him in height (there might be an inch or two difference, but he’s not sure how much of that is from the cowl) and musculature, he feels like a colt beside a stallion.

And beyond the mask, and the cape and the only face Gotham’s underbelly knows, he can sense the steely blue gaze of the man who put him on his life’s path.

The only father that ever really mattered to him, when it came down to it.

“Damn. I didn’t even hear you,” he remarks as he struggles to his feet, surprised his voice remains level. “I forgot you can be freakishly quiet.”

He blames not hearing the approach because of the noise filters in his ears—blocking ghosts has the nasty side-effect of blocking some of the living, too. He’s trained himself to listen for a normal person sneaking up on him—not too hard, considering most night watchmen or security guards make more noise than they realize—but Bruce isn’t exactly normal.

“There have been seven grave desecrations in the past month,” he growls at him in full Batman voice, and Jason swallows.

Not from fear, but because he had forgotten. How had he forgotten what that sounds like?

“The GCPD wants to know why. I don’t care. I want it to stop.”

There’s an implicit threat--an ultimatum there.

And it hits Jason, then: Bruce doesn’t recognize him.

He has no idea who he is, and it’s not just because his face is covered.

Tim really didn’t say anything to him.

Jason’s not sure what he’s more surprised about, that his replacement kept his word or that Bruce didn’t just jump him from behind and tie him up.

From what Jason remembers, he only ever went for the dramatic entrance on nights when he was looking for a fight.

Which, if that’s the case…shit.

“Okay, chill,” Jason says slowly. “Believe it or not, I’m past the need to do things the violent way first.

Batman looms, exuding menace. “And yet you have no problem violating graves.”

“I’d ask you to let me explain, but we both know you won’t believe a word I say. So…actions speak louder than words, right? I’m just going to take off my gear—”

Immediately, a batarang slices into the hand Jason moves, and it’s only training that turns it into a flesh wound instead of a worse injury. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Jason narrows his eyes.

And there’s the inflexibility. How much I didn’t miss that.

He forgot how sometimes, the only way to make Bruce listen to something was to grab his attention in other ways.

“Okay, you paranoid son of a bitch,” he mutters and rolls his shoulders. “Now it’s on, just on principle.” He shifts his stance. “Let’s boogie.”

If the words throw Bruce off, there’s no outward indication. He charges forward with intent, and without hesitation; Jason meets him the same way.

The older man’s body twists, bringing momentum to the downward punch meant to knock Jason out with one blow, but he braces, is surprised to catch it before it connects.

If Batman is surprised, he doesn’t show it; he’s already moving, left knee jerking up to hit him in the chest—Jason moves back enough to avoid that, but not the snap of the foot that catches him in the chest, sending him flying backward.

Jason doesn’t linger on the ground to recover, instead rolls forward and to his feet, then charges, vaults over a headstone to achieve lift, and aims a kick to the side of Batman’s head. The vigilante avoids it, and when Jason tries to follow up with an overhand hammer fist, he catches that, too.

Shit.

Realistically, he knows he doesn’t have a chance in Hell of beating Batman. Maybe in another life, if he kept training like his mentor, he likes to imagine he would have surpassed Bruce. Jason always had a raw strength to him, forged in the streets that no billionaire’s coddled son could have, no matter how many martial arts he studied and how many masters he learned from.

But Jason didn’t get that life, he got this one, and he’s learned to roll with the punches—literally.

They fight, trading blows and blocks. Jason is surprised that despite being a little rusty when it comes to close combat, he’s still able to keep up—still able to meet each blow and to even take a hit that he’s seen down a man twice his size.

Either I’m better than I thought, or he’s slowed down over the years.

Both options are as equally unlikely as the other.

The two men grapple for a bit, and Jason can’t help running his mouth, because that’s how he always fought.

And because he’s suddenly angry.

“It has to be beyond thought,” he bites out as Batman gets his hand free and tries to hit Jason’s face. “Well past instinct.” He avoids the attack, jerking his head to one side. The momentary lag in Batman’s movements is the only clue he recognizes the words he once spoke to him. “You simply act—”

Batman has hold of their joined hands and tries to use his weight to lever Jason backward, but he moves with it, bending and jumping, using the momentum to flip around in a backflip and free himself.

“—a finely tuned instrument—"

Years of unspoken resentment, feelings he tamped down because they were irrational, nights he woke up sobbing—

Why didn’t you come for me why didn’t you look for me why didn’t you imagine I could be alive why didn’t you get there in time?

They trade more blows for a few minutes before Jason is sent backward again, rolling into another headstone and back to feet.

“—a body trained to perfection—”

He charges forward again.

“—techniques honed and mastered—”

Batman has another batarang in hand, is trying to plunge it into a part of Jason’s body that’s both non-lethal but capable of neutralizing him at the same time.

“—and expensive toys to wield against the “malignant scum that ravage this city,” Jason sneers, narrowly avoiding the sharp edges as he shoves the blows off-course. “So what the hell are you doing here?”

“Who are you.”

It’s not a question, more a demand, and Jason ignores it.

Batman varies his approach then, giving up on the batarang and trying to use the sharp edges of his gauntlets to hobble him. Sometimes he comes from beneath, sometimes from above or the side.

There’s no anticipating the move, only reacting to it as it comes.

And taking advantage of an opening when you see one.

Jason moves then, lands a blow with the heel of his hand to the unprotected curve of jaw. While Batman staggers, Jason jumps up and twists around, slamming a kick to his side that sends him flying into a headstone this time.

Anyone who’s ever fought the Bat knows you don’t give him a chance to recover, and so Jason is already darting forward, bending and jumping with his knee forward, slamming it into Batman’s chest as he gets to his feet. The blow sends vibrations of pain up through Jason’s leg and around to his spine because of the damn armor, but it still has Batman doubling over as the headstone behind him crumbles.

“Grave robbing cases aren’t really your thing,” Jason points out even as the vigilante is up and ready again, raining down blows on him with all the vigor of a second wind. “Even the Commish wouldn’t expect you to look into this. Not with all the other freaks in the night!” He curses and ducks back when a gauntleted fist nearly busts his jaw. “So why go all out here on some petty crime?”

Jason flips him, but Batman only skids back a few paces before retaking his stance.

“Could it be, maybe you’ve got a personal stake in it?” he taunts. “This graveyard…the resting of your first great failure…”

The growl Batman emits is almost animal then, and Jason barely has time to brace himself for it as a vicelike grip seizes him around the throat.

“Who. Are. You.”

Jason gasps for breath, his own hands wrapping around the gauntlet in an effort to hold himself up, to keep breathing. He gasps out, “Not your last though, was it?”

As expected, the comment pisses Batman off enough that he has to let him go or risk collapsing his throat. Jason finds himself sailing back through the air again, landing on his back.

He coughs, trying to draw in air as the caped figure approaches.

“Heard all about the past few years,” he bites out. “Replacement-bird filled me in.” He swallows painfully. “Kind of surprised he didn’t fill you in.”

Batman moves then, barrels forward in what Jason recognizes as a crippling blow to the solar plexus. He rolls away just in time, clambers to his feet again to exchange blows.

It should be harder now. He’s amazed it doesn’t feel like it.

Lack of oxygen maybe. Starting to get punch drunk.

“Just what did you do to piss him off, B?” Jason challenges.

“I won’t ask the question a third time.”

“You won’t believe me ‘til you figure it out yourself.”

In the split second where he tries to parse the comment, Jason grabs hold of Batman in a move he learned from him long ago and perfected at Dick’s side, flipping him over his back in a punishing suplex.

There’s a muffled thump of a body hitting the ground, and Jason backs away, panting.

Batman’s already getting to his feet.

Goddamn him and his insane stamina…

“What would you do if I told you that grave over there—the most recent one in the family mausoleum? If I told you it’s empty,” Jason asks, still breathless. “That it’s been empty for five years.”

Batman snarls and is on him again.

“No body there while you went on training your bevy of child soldiers.”

They trade blows, fists and knees and kicks and blocks.

“That you being here tonight is just a pointless exercise in guilt to continue your damned mission.”

They have each other in a tight grapple hold now, and the vigilante’s face is inches from Jason’s.

“You cannot possibly imagine that I believe this…this ruse,” he grunts.

“Yeah, I think you do,” Jason wheezes back. “I think you feel it in your gut. You know whose arm you’re trying to break right now.”

“It’s not…possible…!”

“No, it really is—”

And then Bruce gets his free hand on his face, fingers punishing against the bones and muscles. Jason jerks backward, feels elastics snap against his head as the surgical mask is ripped off, and then he’s reeling backward.

He lands in a crouch, looking up as Bruce starts toward him.

And then freezes.

The cowl might hide his features, but Jason knows how Batman’s body language changes when he’s trying not to betray shock.

“Jason…”

“Hey, B,” Jason smirks.

⁂⁂⁂

To Be Continued

________________________________________________________________

There is no universe where Jason doesn't pick a fight with Bruce when he comes back, reasons or not. Some of the dialogue was from Under the Red Hood, just adapted to this timeline/'verse. Tune in next time for more emotionally stunted reunions!

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#jaytimweek2019 #jaytimweek #jaytim #fanfic #prompt: supernatural #jaytim fic #jason todd #drama #mystery #angst #jason being just as nosy #cemetery #paranormal investigator

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crypterion-moon · 5 years

Text

Exchange

“We traded kisses for bruises, I’m back here to trade them back in.”

Part 1

Things have smoothed somewhat since their fights and Jason only slowly begins to discover things about Tim that forces him to come to terms about his own feelings and Tim has to stop running from him.

There’s not a lot of things that Jason cares about, maybe his work and his identity as the Red Hood but his life? His ‘family’? Especially the Bats? They couldn’t be any lower on his priority list, if they were even on it.

Bruce still tried his best to reintegrate him back into the Bats, nice try B but this Robin fell out of the nest a long time ago. Besides the fact that he’s not sure he wants to spend more than an couple of hours in a mansion with Dick, the demon brat and Tim.

Jason leaned back next to the gargoyle and took a long drag of his cigarette. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do with Tim. As Robin, he was formidable, intelligent and calculating but simultaneously the most benign and reserved out of all the Robins, which made him akin to a ghost. He rarely ever started fights, only ever with Damian and he deserved most of the bashing Drake gave him. But when it came to Jason, he pulled the vanishing act faster than Jason could even say hello to him. Tim was outright avoiding Jason. They fought a few times but the first time was brutal and he could remember how bloody Tim was by the time he was done. There was something in his eyes, behind the mask, his posture, that seemed to make Jason even angrier, he was a very angry person then. But the expression still bothered him even now.

Jason stubbed his cigarette out and let out a long deep breath, it’s not like he can ask the kid now, Tim hardly let him get a word out before disappearing first.

There’s noise on the comm, someone has accessed his channel.

“Jason,” Bab’s voice crackles on the other end.

“Yo, what’s up?”

“Don’t ‘what’s up’ me, you jerk, you’ve just made my job hell of a lot more trouble,” Jason couldn’t help but smile at how huffy she was getting, Bab’s was both intimidating and adorable that way, no wonder Dick was so smitten.

“Sorry Oracle, I couldn’t sit back and wait for some pimps to start shipping girls off before we took ‘em down.”

“Well, your heroics have caused an awkward situation, I have to do the above ground cleanup while Batman is dealing with your mess on ground level.”

“I’ve always loved pissing him off.”

Babs is talking now to someone else, there’s another voice in the background, a softer one. For some reason, she sounds surprised, speaking for a bit before turning her attention back to Jason.

“Well, you’ve got one grateful bat, Red Robin says thanks.”

Jason is speechless for a moment. It was completely out of the blue that he’d leave a message like that. Jason isn’t that hard to find and Tim is smart, if anyone could track it was him, but he’d chosen to not say it to Jason’s face.

“What’s that mean?” Jason find himself asking.

“Well, as awkward as you made it, you did stop a few of the victims from being sailed off. He was worried about them.”

“Huh.”

“You should try talking to him.”

“Maybe,” Jason said, “Probably not.”

Tim would prefer to pride himself on solving problems but lately, he’s just running away from them, Damian was determined to stick a big target on Tim while his relationship with Dick and Bruce has gone, somewhat cold. It’s become easier to stay away from Wayne manor than stick around unless it was for patrol. At least, he’ll won’t have to meet Jason too often. He’s definitely running from Jason but at this point he can’t stop it. It was just much easier to run than talk it out. Perks of living alone, he didn’t have to talk to anyone. Bruce and Dick still call up to check on him but he’s mastered the art of deflecting questions. He catches Jason trying to say something but his body flees before he can convince himself to listen, he’s scared, hurt still from those times they were at each other or rather Jason was trying to kill him. It’s an old scar and he’s not sure how long before he stops running. He’s not sure why Jason is trying to talk to him.

He’s finally back at his safehouse, it’s simple and clean since he doesn’t spend too much time in it. His time is always occupied with Wayne Enterprises during the day and patrol and investigations during the night. He can’t say he doesn’t want more, someone to greet him or someone to call when he’s home, just so that he isn’t completely alone. Tim walks to his room instead of the kitchen, he’s a bit peckish but not that interested in food, he’d rather catch up on sleep. At some point, even all the caffeine he could consume won’t keep him awake. If Alfred knew how his lifestyle had deteriorated Tim would get a long lecture. There’s nothing more disheartening than Alfred being disappointed. Tim collapses onto the bed after getting rid of his suit. Sleep will be nice.

The most obnoxious of sounds wakes Tim and he falls in a most ungraceful manner off the bed. Right, it was his alarm, purposefully jarring for the sole reason of waking him up for work. He reaches over his bedside table for the alarm, almost slamming the snooze button too hard. By the time he’s done and ready to head off to the office, it’s only eight probably enough time to get coffee on the way. To his surprise someone is waiting outside...Jason. Tim stands there gaping a bit in shock.

“I heard you are a monster without your morning coffee, thought I should at least get you some before we talk.”

“Uh, thanks but I do need to get to work,” Tim says, the sudden need to run strikes him.

“I know, I’ll drive you there,” Jason gets on the bike and pats the seat behind him for Tim to get on, “It’ll be quicker and we’ll have some free time before you need to go.”

Tim realizes he can’t refuse and it’ll be rude to at this point now that Jason is dead set on it. So he gets on, gingerly. Jason hands him a spare helmet which he puts on with shaky hands.

“Hang on tight, don’t want you falling off,” Jason says, though that is more preferable to Tim’s current situation he does what he’s told and wraps his arms around Jason’s midsection. They speed off.

Jason ends up getting them both coffee in a nice café that Tim frequents. He hadn’t asked what Tim likes though so he ends up getting him a sweetened large latte with caramel in it. It’s indulgent as intended, the kid looks like he could stand to gain twenty pounds. Tim doesn’t tell him it’s too weak though, it’s still nice, probably the sugar will help.

They sit awkwardly by the window, Tim looks out nervously so he won’t have to look at Jason.

“Um, thanks...for the coffee.”

“You come here a lot don’t you?”

Tim bites his lip, he knows Jason has been observing, probably like that time when he was gathering enough info on him to launch his attack. It’s making Tim nervous, but he doesn’t understand what Jason’s intentions are this time.

“It’s close to the Wayne building and they do good coffee here.”

Jason takes a sip of his, “Yeah, they do.”

“You...had something you wanted to talk about?” Please say no, please say no, say no so I can leave, Tim repeats in his head.

Jason nods,“Yeah, about last night, what was that about?”

“What?”

“Babs told me what you said, you were there with her.”

“I...thought you did a good job, those girls could’ve been gone for good if we waited.”

Jason sits back, this is so weird for him, he can’t understand why Tim, the Robin he beat up is complimenting him. Unless he’s feeling sorry about his little spat with Batman.

“I’m guessing you heard me and the big guy duking it out after, right?”

Tim remembers Batman sounding much gruffer on the line to Red Hood, he always does when he’d angry, he remembers that voice chastising him.

“Yeah, I heard,” Tim say, “I thought it wasn’t as bad as he said it was, I didn’t want you to put out.”

Jason twitches, so he was just being pitied. There’s nothing he hates more than people patronizing him like the Dick. People will say all kinds of nice thing but in the end, they were there to backstab other people, just like how he gets backstabbed in the end, even by his own Mom.

“Save it, I don’t need your sympathy.”

Tim looks up in shock, “Huh?”

“I get it, you feel sorry for me that B got mad at me. Well, screw that, I’ve never cared one way or another so I don’t need you to tell me everything’s okay,” Jason growls, his temper boiling over.

“No that’s not what I-”

Jason is one step away from slamming or kicking the table, but he doesn’t instead, he sits forward abruptly, gripping the table, “Of course that’s what you mean, I know your type and you have nothing but nice things to say to people who aren’t so lucky, yeah? That’s what you do.”

“Can’t I just be nice?” Tim is confused and scared and offended at the same time, he doesn’t like shouting, he doesn’t like being shouted at.

“And let you look down on me? A real saint aren’t you?”

It’s Tim who slams his hand down on the table, people turn to stare before looking away quickly, some whisper to each other while they watch.

“Is that how everything is to you? Some kind of conspiracy, that everyone is out to get you?!” Tim screams, “Do you ever stop to think that maybe you should shelve that stubborn pride of yours and take a step back?!”

“I started from the damn gutter, if I have any pride I’d damn well keep it!” Jason is yelling too. But even as he’s letting his rage fly, he can see Tim’s hands, no, his body is trembling.

“And I have everything? That’s what you think? That money and parents, a big mansion and that’s what counts?” Tim is trying not to cry from the strain, “Do you know what it’s like to have all that and nothing at the same time?”

“The hell are you talking about, replacement?”

“Don’t call me that!” Don’t, because Tim doesn’t want to face the truth of that, “You don’t know, what it’s like to try and try and in the end, never be enough. You don’t know what it’s like to stand there take it and be expected to smile and stay quiet because you’re supposed to.”

Tim sees Damian sneering at him, Bruce’s back is turned, he’s too busy. The face of his dead father, his best friend, all his friends. The moment he looks back at the Drake manor, empty, like it’s always been. Being cold and tired. He stands, his hands, his vision shaking.

“You don’t know what it’s like to lose everything and everyone you trust and love, have the world just crumble around you and have to watch but you can’t scream.”

He can’t count the amount of times he’s looked down on everything and wondered if it would make a difference if he just...faded. Through watery eyes he sees Jason staring at him, too stunned to say anything. Tim needs to walk or he might collapse on the spot.

“I have to go...work,” he says weakly and bolts like a rabbit.

“Wait.” He doesn’t stop even when Jason calls out to him.

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