#alfred will stab you if you so much as LOOK at his boy wrong

[disillusioneddanny]

Eloped in Space Part Four

Dick Grayson had never felt so utterly betrayed in his entire life. Bruce? Married? And he didn’t even tell Dick? He wasn’t even invited to the wedding! How could his adoptive father do this to him? And that had to be a typo, maybe the twink was 20 but–what was better? His father marrying someone who was 200 hundred years old or someone who was 20 years old? He had kids older than 20! It would be so fucking weird for Bruce to marry someone so young. 

It was also, unfortunately, something he could one hundred percent see his father doing. Regardless, the vigilante had made the trip from Bludhaven to see the twink and see what the actual fuck was wrong with Bruce. 

“What do you think is going on?” Jason asked, falling into step with his older brother as they started towards the manor door. 

“No clue. I’m more confused than anything,” Dick admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Jason frowned but nodded in agreement. Alfred opened the door for them, his face pale white.

“Alfie? Are you okay?” Jason asked, brow furrowed. 

“Apologies, Master Jason. I think that I may still be in shock,” he murmured, stepping back to let the boys in. “Everyone is in the sitting room already.”

“So, he’s actually married?” Dick asked, eyebrows shot up to his hairline. 

Alfred nodded. “Yes, Master Daniel is quite an interesting being, I must say. But, I have never seen Master Bruce as happy as he is right now. Not even when he was a child, it’s odd.”

“Daniel?” Jason asked. 

“He prefers to go by Danny,” Steph said, coming out of the sitting room, a wide grin on her face. “He’s amazing and I love him so much. Damian has stabbed him at least five times and Danny hasn’t even blinked!”

“What?”

“I think it’s a game now. He keeps speaking to Danny in different languages and is getting angrier and angrier every time Danny responds. Honestly, this is the best thing Bruce has ever done.”

Dick and Jason shared a confused look before following the girl into the sitting room where the rest of their family was waiting. On a large couch sat Bruce and a young man who looked no older than 25 sat together, Bruce had his arm wrapped around the man’s waist, a fond smile on his face. Danny was currently waving his arms wildly as he told a story to his captive audience. 

“Anyway, and that was the day I learned that I am faster than the Flash and I just think that this is impressive,” Danny said with a grin. Bruce just let out a fond chuckle before he glanced up at the brothers. 

“Darling,” he murmured, tugging on his ear lightly. “Everyone is here now.”

Danny looked away from the bats and grinned at Dick and Jason. He quickly stood and bound towards the brothers. “Richard! Jason!” He exclaimed before he stopped in his steps. “Oh Moonbeam, you’re right. Jason is very contaminated, we’ll have to fix that,” he said before his eyes flashed a familiar Lazarus green. Jason immediately took a step back from the man and shot Bruce a startled look. 

“What the fuck? You talked about us to some stranger?”

Danny pouted. “No, he barely said anything except the bare bones explantations. But, I do know that you reek of contaminated ectoplasm which makes sense if you took a dip in what my Starlight calls Lazarus Waters,” Danny said, tilting his head to the side as he observed the vigilante with those frightening green eyes. “Anywho, Richard Grayson, also goes by Dick, detective by day Nightwing by night. Avid lover of puns and former gymnast. It’s nice to meet you,” he said with a small smile, two little fangs sticking past his lip. He then looked at Jason. “Jason Todd-Wayne. Died and came back to life, former crime lord, current Red Hood. Interesting fascination with guns that has Bruce slightly concerned. It’s nice to meet you both, I’m Bruce’s husband, Danny. You guys can call me Danny or if you feel so inclined, call me Dad. I don’t care,” he said with a grin before he pulled the two into tight hugs.

He skipped back to Bruce and slipped his hand back into his husbands and leaned in close. Bruce just gave the man a dazzling smile before he looked at his children and pseudo children. “I know that you all must have a lot of questions. This is a rather big change, so Danny and I will do our best to answer them to the best of our ability.”

“How did you meet Danny?” Steph asked, practically frothing at the mouth at the couple. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She had never seen Bruce so happy, so soft! He was like a different person. 

Danny smiled and shrugged. “I needed some help investigating some pools of ectoplasmic waste that had made it into these realms and Bruce was apparently the only Justice Leaguer who was insanely knowledgeable on them. He kept calling them Lazarus Waters though and I was so confused,” he said with a laugh. 

“Wait-what did you want with the waters?” Jason asked, brow furrowed. 

At this Danny’s smile widened even further, looking just a little less human. He looked at Bruce. “Should I show them?”

The man shrugged his shoulders. “Darling, our family is made up of detectives. If you don’t, they’ll just start investigating you,” he said with a mirthful smile. 

Danny nodded and two large rings of light surrounded Danny before he shifted into a new form. Gone was the gangly twenty something year old and his place sat a large, looming being. Danny’s hair turned stark white, his fangs elongated, eyes shone Lazarus green. He was the definition of eldritch horror with his too long claws and green skin. He was a nightmare. 

“Holy fuck,” Jason whispered, eyes landing on the crown with blue flames that licked up in the air. His knees nearly buckled beneath him as he stared at the being, something in his very soul telling him to bow. It took everything in his being to not do so. 

“This is High King Phantom, king of the Infinite Realms and ruler of the dead,” Bruce said with a smug smile. “And my husband.”

“Danny, you’re too bright,” Duke whined, covering his eyes from the bright green glow that emitted from Danny’s form. Danny let out a squeak of surprise and swiftly shifted back into his human form and ran over to Duke. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I’ll try not to do that again, I can’t promise anything but I’ll figure out a way to turn down the brightness!” He exclaimed, hands hovering over Duke as though he didn’t know what to do. 

Duke gave him an awkward smile. “It’s okay, really,” he said. “I’ll just make sure to wear sunglasses or something next time.”

Danny grinned and nodded before patting Duke’s head and sat next to Bruce once more. “Anyway, as the High King, my job is to investigate any and all issues that have to do with the Infinite Realms. One of those realms is the Ghost Zone where there is this substance called ectoplasm. It’s supposed to look like this,” he said before letting the ectoplasm pool in his hand. “It’s what flows in my veins as well as most ecto-entities. It’s not supposed to exist in this universe. When I learned of the Lazarus Waters and realized that they were giant pools of contaminated ectoplasm I realized that I needed to shut it down and fast. I knew that this dimension had the Justice League as like earth’s mightiest heroes or something like that so I went to them to learn about what they knew of the waters. So with the help of Bruce, we went on a mission to get rid of them completely.”

“The Lazarus Waters are gone?” Damian blurted out, surprise etched into his face. 

Danny smiled. “No one is allowed immortality without permission from me. Not only that, but that is not how ectoplasm is meant to be used,” he said with a shrug. “So yes, they’re gone.”

“How did Ra’s react?” Tim asked with a frown. Danny frowned and looked to Bruce in confusion. 

The vigilante chuckled. “He was beyond livid. Tried to kill Danny and even attempted to use some spell to force Danny into his slave,” he said. 

“Oh! Stinky guy? Yeah, he’s dead,” Danny said with a grin. “Dead and in Walker’s prison for the rest of eternity.”

“What happened to Bruce’s no killing rule?” Dick asked, frowning. 

At this Bruce’s face fell, turning into an annoyed scowl. “Trust me,” Danny said with a laugh. “We had a very long talk afterwards that killing is bad and then I told him that as the king of the dead I can decide who enters my realm whenever I want. I’m what you humans call a God,” he said with a sharp grin. “As much as I love my sweet Sunbeam, he cannot stop me from deciding who lives and who dies.”

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[imaginingmarvelandeverything]

Worst Nightmare

Pairing: Jason Todd (version unspecified) x F!Reader

Warnings: kidnapping, injury, mentions of death, panic attack, pit madness

Word count: 1721

A/N: Here’s part 10 of castle of glass! It’s time for shit to hit the fan! Part of this is based on WFA because I just want Bruce to be able to be a good dad to his kids. Anyway, I hope you like it!

Masterlist

Series masterlist

Ko-Fi

“Did you seriously drag me the whole way here just so you could grab something you could have asked Bruce for?” Jason asked as Dick continued wrapping up the various wires for the police scanner on his apartment desk.

“You know, I thought it was your idea to keep Bruce out of our way as much as possible.” Dick raised an eyebrow and shot him the same exasperated look he’d been giving him since he was twelve years old.

Jason huffed, knowing Dick was right. If he wanted to do what he had to do with as little involvement from the rest of the Bats as possible, they needed a way to listen in to Gotham Police for any sign of the clown. Y/N was tapped into Barbara’s software, so their own scanner would give her a way to listen in without any of the others listening too.

Didn’t mean he had to be happy about Dick dragging him along though. “Still doesn’t explain why I had to come.”

“Because the elevator is broken and I also need to grab some more of mine and Haley’s things.” Dick said, before chewing on his cheek in a way that Jason knew meant he had more to say but didn’t know how to say it.

“Whatever it is, Dickhead, spit it out.” Jason said, feeling slightly bad for snapping, but with everything going on, his patience wasn’t exactly in the best state.

Dick’s shoulders dropped and he stopped what he was doing to lean back against his desk. “I-uh- talked to Y/N, and I just wanted to check in without the others around.”

“Oh.” Jason said, his stomach twisting in the weird way it did now whenever Dick took an interest in his life outside of their vigilantism. “I-I’m good, I guess. Better than I’ve been in a long time.”

Dick smiled, his real smile, not the one he used around other people. “That’s good, I’m glad. She seems happier too. I’m glad you both figured out a way to make it work.”

Jason nodded. He didn’t know what to say back because he could tell Dick meant it. His wayward little brother and best friend who seemed to be a magnet for trouble were not only getting along but they had decided to pursue a relationship and actually take a stab at being happy. All Dick had ever wanted was for his family to be happy, for everyone to get along. Jason was just happy he seemed to have stopped being a point of stress for his older brother in that regard.

“We should probably head back before Bruce gets angsty and sends the cavalry after us to make sure we’ve not been whisked away.” Dick joked, his smile widening when it caused Jason’s lips to twitch up.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

***

Jason could tell something was wrong the moment they stepped back into the manor. There were multiple pairs of shoes by the door that had been hastily kicked off and multiple voices coming from the kitchen. He shared a look with Dick and they both dropped the boxes they were carrying by the door before walking to investigate.

All of the Bats, apart from Duke, were standing or sitting around the kitchen island, and all of them went silent as the two of them walked in. Jason met Bruce’s eyes and felt his heart freeze in his chest; the only times the old man had looked at him like that, it was never good news. But he forced back his panic and scanned the room. Everyone looked okay, except for Damian. The kid had a black eye, a busted lip, and a haziness to his gaze that told Jason he probably had a concussion. Alfred was fussing over him, ignoring the boys weak attempts to push him off. It was strange seeing everyone in one place, so strange that his brain almost didn’t notice the only other person who was missing.

“Where’s Y/N?” Dick asked, beating Jason to it by seconds.

Jason looked back at Bruce and he knew what was coming before anyone said it. But surprisingly, it wasn’t Bruce who spoke up.

“I got into a disagreement at school and I did not want anyone else to know, so I called her to pick me up.” Damian said, refusing to look at Jason and Dick, but even with his gaze fixed on the table, Jason could see the tears starting to form in his eyes. “They came out of no where. It was my fault.”

“It’s not your fault.” Bruce said sternly.

“There was too many of them, and she did not want them knowing I was Robin so she told me to run. But I could not leave her there. They hit me over the head and took her.” Damian bit hard into his lip in an attempt to stop himself crying.

But Jason was no longer paying attention. Dick said something to draw the attention of the others and he felt himself backing out of the room as the pit started clawing its way up into his mind. His vision tinged green and his surroundings seemed to disappear as his thoughts started screaming.

Yourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfault

It was like all his worst nightmares were coming true at once. The air seemed to have been ripped from his lungs as the sound of manic laughter started echoing in his ears, just adding to the noise in his head.

“SHUT UP!” The words forced their way out of his throat, cutting through the chaos in his mind.

“Jay?” A soft voice said, but with the green still tinting his vision and the pounding in his ears, he couldn’t tell who it was. “Little Wing, can you put the gun down?”

Dick’s use of the old nickname was a shock to his system. The feeling came back into his fingers and he felt the cool metal of the handle in his palm. The side of the gun was pressed against his head where he tried to cover his ears to block out what the voices were saying, even though he knew it was pointless. He focused on breathing and the green started to retreat, even though the pit was still itching for him to get his hands on someone to make them pay. But it meant his vision cleared enough for him to analyse where he was.

He had crammed himself into the corner between the stairs and the kitchen wall, and curled himself up into a ball. Dick was crouched in front of him, clearly wanting to reach out and touch him but unsure if that’s what he wanted. Bruce was standing behind Dick with a frown on his face, but they were the only two people in the hall. Even though he knew the others were probably listening in, he was glad Bruce had apparently told them to stay in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry.” He croaked out, finally bringing himself to drop the gun onto the floor next to him, immediately missing the security of its weight in his palm.

“It’s okay. Can I touch you?” Dick asked, obviously trying to keep the worry out of his voice. But his face softened slightly when Jason nodded, and he shifted forward to tentatively wrap his arms around him. “We’ll get her back, I promise.”

He balled his hands into fists in the back of Dick’s shirt and buried his face in his brother’s shoulder, needing it even if he was still getting used to accepting comfort from anyone. “It’s all my fault.”

“No, Jason, none of it has been your fault.” Bruce’s voice cut through the air, his tone leaving no room for argument. Jason watched him over Dick’s shoulder as he crouched down to their level. “I’m the one who should be sorry. For the fight we had that day, for leaving you alone outside that warehouse, for not being there for you when you came back, and for not being the one to go and get Damian today.”

Jason stared at Bruce with his lips parted, his brain attempting to process everything he had just said. Dick twisted to face Bruce while keeping his arms around Jason, a similar look on his face. It seemed neither of them could quite get over the fact that Bruce was apologising, especially to Jason of all people.

“What do we know?” Jason managed to choke out after what felt like a full minute of him and Dick staring at Bruce in silence.

“Damian says there were around ten of them. She shot two of them, and I’m assuming she got the gun from you.” The normal, exasperated Bruce was back and part of Jason was glad. “We know the Joker’s MO by now, Barbara is already making a list of all the current abandoned buildings in Gotham and Duke is out keeping an eye on the streets. We’re going to sort the buildings into most likely to least likely, split up into groups of two and search them in order. As much as I’d prefer you didn’t due to both your closeness to this, I’m assuming you’ll want to be paired together?”

Dick pulled back, even though it looked like he didn’t want to, and looked at Jason before turning back to Bruce and nodding. “Yeah, we do.”

Bruce frowned, but nodded too. “Alright. Damian is benched for the night, he’s got a pretty bad concussion. I’ll put Steph with Tim, Cass with me, and Duke can be on standby for backup.”

“Dami won’t want to sit out.” Dick told him.

Bruce sighed. “I know. I’ll let him help Barbara and Alfred, he shouldn’t be sleeping too soon with his concussion anyway. Hopefully that will satisfy him.”

Dick snorted in disbelief.

“Will you come back into the kitchen so we can plan further?” Bruce turned back to Jason.

He took another moment to ground himself and make sure the pit wasn’t going to randomly lash out at anyone before he nodded. Dick pulled him up from the floor and gave him a firm nod, trying to reassure both Jason and himself that the Joker wouldn’t win again. That they were going to get Y/N back in one piece.

Part 11

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[batcowmaster]

@crimefightr from here.

ONE. TWO. THREE. Inhale. Exhale. What was it Alfred had said? More positive reinforcement. He’s not sure if it was meant for him or for his son, all things considered. 

One more exhale. The pulsating vein in his temple calming down. The immediate frustration dissipates slowly. Tension in his jaw releasing. His looming countenance melting, bending to his son’s height as he slowly, purposefully met his gaze. 

    “ And I’m sure stabbing them when you got free was JUST punishment? “ He asked in return, steady in his voice. Almost as if he was simply just asking. Trying to avoid, or at least attempting his best at, sounding disappointed if not frustrated. Another sigh. A tremble of a smile on his lips. “ It was impressive, son. The best I could do with my bullies then was send them home with bloody noses. “

He got up then and ruffles his hair. Taking another look at the light scratches on his face. Nothing worse than what they’ve gotten as the dynamic duo.

 “ We’ll have to work on your conflict resolution skills and we’re suing the school and those parents for letting their kids even lay a hand on you. “ 

Then again ─ 

    “ Or maybe we sic your brothers on them. “ 

Damian meets Bruce's gaze in return. Their anger, the temper that sometimes cools into coldness and distance, it's something both of them have. But he can see Bruce is trying to connect with him right now so he tries in return.

"They had the stabbing coming, and it was just a pencil. I don't understand what the big deal is. They're the ones who thought I was a weak, little, poor rich boy and decided to try and take advantage of that under the guise of hazing. They shouldn't dish out what they can't take back."

He can't stand bullies. He can't stand those that see the weak, the smaller children, the seemingly innocent, and then try to take advantage of that. Hurt them. These kids would think twice before touching another smaller kid.

Damian takes another damp cloth up to his face to wipe away anything lingering and shrugs. "I'm pretty sure they're going to sue us but I don't think they really have much of a case, do you?" And then he sighs, "What's wrong with my conflict resolution skills."

A snort came at the suggestion.

"What? You think my brothers are going to be more or less severe than me?"

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

It Was an Accident....

Whumptober 2021: #17. Field Care 101, #18. The Doctor Is In, #19. Stabbing, #21. Blood Matted Hair

Fandom: Batman, Batfam, Damian Wayne

Word Count: 1718

TW: accidental violence against a 10-year-old

“Help! Please, somebody help!”

Jason just happened to be passing by the open entrance to the Batcave when he heard his youngest brother’s desperate cries floating up the stairs. The sound stopped him dead in his tracks as a cold chill ran down his spine. Damian may still be just a kid, but he tried so hard to make everyone else forget that fact. He hid behind his patronizing snarky attitude and never let others see his vulnerable side. So, if his sobbing pleas were any indication, something must be terribly, terribly wrong…

Tearing down the stairs of the Batcave, Jason stumbled to a halt when he saw what had caused the commotion. Damian was kneeling on the training mat, tears streaming down his face, grasping his twin’s hand for dear life. A katana towered over her tiny form, one end protruding from her stomach and the other end pinning her to the floor. Even from this distance, Jason could hear her ragged gasps as she struggled to catch her breath. He was by her side in seconds, noticing a second katana laying discarded just out of reach of her hand. Damian looked up at him, his face twisted in anguish, “We were practicing. She was supposed to block my advance, but an alarm went off and she became distracted. Todd…. Please help her.”

Jason opened his mouth but flinched as he looked down to see his sister weakly grasping his fingers. “Not Dami’s fault…. I should have- have paid attention.”

Jason squeezed her hand back, trying to muster up a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. It was an accident. It was nobody’s fault. But don’t worry, we’ll get you fixed up real soon.”

He gently pulled his hand out of her clutches and hurled himself at the intercom on the wall. He wanted to remain calm for both of the twins’ sakes, but the sight of his sister’s tiny body lying in a growing pool of her own blood was too much for him. Slamming down the button, Jason frantically screamed, “We need emergency medical assistance in the cave! Dick! Alfred!..... BRUCE! Get your asses down here now!”

Dick materialized next to him in seconds. He knew if Jason called for Bruce’s help, something dire had to have happened. And it appeared his assumption was not wrong. As he tried to grasp the scene before him, Dick’s gaze rapidly shifted from his sister to Damian to Jason back to his sister to the sword embedded in her stomach to his sister again, each change of focus leaving him gaping like a fish out of water.

Alfred arrived next. He had seen many terrible things both during his time in the military and since Master Bruce had started his nightly crusade, but the sight of the pale, wheezing form of his beloved ten-year-old charge laying at his feet was one of the worst. Without a word, he knelt down and began examining the wound around the blade. Checking her pulse, he was relieved to find it strong, if slightly irregular.

A flutter of a cape announced Bruce’s arrival. He had just been preparing to go join Tim on patrol, so he was currently in his batsuit minus the cowl. He immediately fell to his knees next to his daughter, his face pinched in a pained grimace. He began stroking her hair where it was splayed haphazardly across the mat.

Damian tried to explain what had happened. “Father, it was an accident. We were just sparing like we always do but she looked away for a moment. I did not –”

“Not now Damian.” Bruce coldly snapped as he refused to look at the trembling boy.

Damian’s already teary eyes grew wide at this harsh rebuff and Dick pulled him into a hug. For once, Damian didn’t resist. “It’s okay. He’s just scared. He didn’t mean it.” Dick murmured into his hair, but Damian remained stiff in his arms.

Glancing up, the young girl once again managed a soft, “Father…. It’s not Dami’s fault… Don’t blame him.”

Bruce just nodded at her slightly, lips pressed into a firm, hard line. Looking up at Alfred, he asked, “Well?”

“We’ll have to carry her to the medical facility before I can do anything. However, the sword seems to be pinning her to the floor so it will have to be removed before we can transfer her.”

All the boys immediately blanched at the idea of being the one to remove the sword, a fact that did not escape Alfred’s notice. With a sigh, he took charge of the situation. “This has to be done as quickly as possible since there is a good chance she will begin to bleed profusely once we remove the blade. Master Jason, go to the other room and get all my supplies set up.” Jason grunted and hurried off to do as he was told.

Alfred picked up the towel that was lying next to the mat and tossed it to Dick. “Master Dick, when I pull the blade out, I need you to press this into the wound as quickly and as tightly as possible.” Dick nodded, biting his lip slightly as he stepped away from Damian and moved closer to his sister.

“Master Bruce, as soon as she is no longer trapped, you need to carry her as quickly but as carefully as possible over to the medical facility.” Bruce began to say something, but one stern look from the butler shut him up quickly. Damian noticed that he had not been given a job to do so he just silently moved out of the way as his family prepared to try to fix his mistake.

As everyone got into position, Bruce soothingly whispered to his daughter, “Okay, my little one. I am sorry, but this next part is going to hurt. I need you to stay as still as you possibly can.”

She gazed up at her father through half-lidded eyes, “S’okay …. It doesn't hurt anymore….” Bruce and Dick exchanged worried glances but silently prepared themselves.

On the count of three, Alfred pulled the sword from the girl’s stomach in one swift, fluid motion. Her body spasmed as her agony-filled scream echoed throughout the cave. Dick slammed the towel into the wound as a fountain of blood sprayed into the air. In seconds, she was a moaning, shaking mess in Bruce’s arms as he bolted to the medical facility.

Damian slowly sunk to his knees on the bloody mat. Each one of his sister’s screams or sobs from the other room was like a physical punch to the gut. He had done this to her, accidently or not. He was the cause of her suffering. She was the one person who had been by his side every day of his life. She was the one person who truly knew everything he had endured both with the League of Shadows and with the Bats. She was the one person he could trust without hesitation, and yet he had done this to her.

As another wail tore through him, Damian folded over until his head was pressed firmly against the mat, not caring as her blood soaked into his hair. He pressed his hands tightly over his ears attempting to drown out her cries and the frantic voices of their family as they tried desperately to save her. It did little to block the sounds and he was soon rocking back and forth on his knees, tears streaming down his face, silently begging for it all to stop.

And then it did. Damian had thought the noise had been torture, but he soon realized it was nothing compared to the sudden uncertainty of the silence. He froze, terrified at what this newfound stillness meant. Damian felt a hand gently rest on his back and then Dick was pulling him into his chest. When his brother quietly murmured, “She’s going to be alright.”, Damian let loose a heart-wrenching sob.

After holding the small boy for a few minutes, Dick helped Damian stand and he walked him into the other room. Their sister was lying on the bed, stomach wrapped in thick bandages, oxygen tube in her nose, IV in her arm. Though unconscious, her face was still pinched in pain but at least Damian can see her chest steadily rising and falling.

Jason was in the corner of the room, pacing back and forth, fingers subconsciously twitching at his hip. Normally when he was this agitated, he would just shoot his problems, but he knew in this situation, his guns were useless. Alfred was cleaning the bloody instruments on the table next to the bed, but he gave Damian a small smile and nod when he entered. Bruce was holding one of his daughter’s hands and staring unblinkingly at her face. Everyone always joked about how little the twins were but seeing her lying here like this, he thought she had never seemed smaller, more fragile.

A soft sniff behind him alerted Bruce to Damian’s presence. As the young boy approached his father’s side, his eyes were trained meekly on the floor. “Father, I am so sorry for injuring her. I did not mean to, but it was still my blade, my hand that did this. I am willing to accept whatever punishment you deem is appropriate.”

Bruce sighed and pulled his son into his chest, arms encircling him in a hug. Damian stiffened in surprise. “It’s okay, son. It was an accident. And…. I’m sorry for how I treated you earlier.” He glanced at the sleeping form in the bed. “I was scared for your sister, but I still shouldn’t have brushed you off like that. She was right. It wasn’t your fault.”

At these words, Damian collapsed into his father’s embrace. He still felt responsible for his sister’s current state, but he felt a wave of relief wash over him with the knowledge that his father was not angry with him.

Eventually, Damian gently pulled away from his father so he could approach the bedside. As he grasped her hand tightly, he watched his twin’s face soften slightly, as if calmed by his presence. In that moment, Damian swore that he would never let anyone hurt his sister like this ever again.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

It Was an Accident

Fandom: Batman, Batfam, Damian Wayne

Word Count: 1718

TW: Accidental Violence Against a 10-year-old, Whump, Blood, Stabbing, Angst

Note: Third-Person Reader

“Help! Please, somebody help!”

Jason just happened to be passing by the open entrance to the Batcave when he heard his youngest brother’s desperate cries floating up the stairs. The sound stopped him dead in his tracks as a cold chill ran down his spine. Damian may still be just a kid, but he tried so hard to make everyone else forget that fact. He hid behind his patronizing snarky attitude and never let others see his vulnerable side. So, if his sobbing pleas were any indication, something must be terribly, terribly wrong…

Tearing down the stairs of the Batcave, Jason stumbled to a halt when he saw what had caused the commotion. Damian was kneeling on the training mat, tears streaming down his face, grasping his twin’s hand for dear life. A katana towered over her tiny form, one end protruding from her stomach and the other end pinning her to the floor. Even from this distance, Jason could hear her ragged gasps as she struggled to catch her breath. He was by her side in seconds, noticing a second katana laying discarded just out of reach of her hand. Damian looked up at him, his face twisted in anguish, “We were practicing. She was supposed to block my advance, but an alarm went off and she became distracted. Todd…. Please help her.”

Jason opened his mouth but flinched as he looked down to see his sister weakly grasping his fingers. “Not Dami’s fault…. I should have- have paid attention.”

Jason squeezed her hand back, trying to muster up a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. It was an accident. It was nobody’s fault. But don’t worry, we’ll get you fixed up real soon.”

He gently pulled his hand out of her clutches and hurled himself at the intercom on the wall. He wanted to remain calm for both of the twins’ sake, but the sight of his sister’s tiny body lying in a growing pool of her own blood was too much for him. Slamming down the button, Jason frantically screamed, “We need emergency medical assistance in the cave! Dick! Alfred!….. BRUCE! Get your asses down here now!”

Dick materialized next to him in seconds. He knew if Jason called for Bruce’s help, something dire had to have happened. And it appeared his assumption was not wrong. As he tried to grasp the scene before him, Dick’s gaze rapidly shifted from his sister to Damian to Jason back to his sister to the sword embedded in her stomach to his sister again, each change of focus leaving him gaping like a fish out of water.

Alfred arrived next. He had seen many terrible things both during his time in the military and since Master Bruce had started his nightly crusade, but the sight of the pale, wheezing form of his beloved ten-year-old charge laying at his feet was one of the worst. Without a word, he knelt down and began examining the wound around the blade. Checking her pulse, he was relieved to find it strong, if slightly irregular.

A flutter of a cape announced Bruce’s arrival. He had just been preparing to go join Tim on patrol, so he was currently in his batsuit minus the cowl. He immediately fell to his knees next to his daughter, his face pinched in a pained grimace. He began stroking her hair where it was splayed haphazardly across the mat.

Damian tried to explain what had happened. “Father, it was an accident. We were just sparing like we always do but she looked away for a moment. I did not –”

“Not now Damian.” Bruce coldly snapped as he refused to look at the trembling boy.

Damian’s already teary eyes grew wide at this harsh rebuff and Dick pulled him into a hug. For once, Damian didn’t resist. “It’s okay. He’s just scared. He didn’t mean it.” Dick murmured into his hair, but Damian remained stiff in his arms.

Glancing up, the young girl once again managed a soft, “Father…. It’s not Dami’s fault… Don’t blame him.”

Bruce just nodded at her slightly, lips pressed into a firm, hard line. Looking up at Alfred, he asked, “Well?”

“We’ll have to carry her to the medical facility before I can do anything. However, the sword seems to be pinning her to the floor so it will have to be removed before we can transfer her.”

All the boys immediately blanched at the idea of being the one to remove the sword, a fact that did not escape Alfred’s notice. With a sigh, he took charge of the situation. “This has to be done as quickly as possible since there is a good chance she will begin to bleed profusely once we remove the blade. Master Jason, go to the other room and get all my supplies set up.” Jason grunted and hurried off to do as he was told.

Alfred picked up the towel that was lying next to the mat and tossed it to Dick. “Master Dick, when I pull the blade out, I need you to press this into the wound as quickly and as tightly as possible.” Dick nodded, biting his lip slightly as he stepped away from Damian and moved closer to his sister.

“Master Bruce, as soon as she is no longer trapped, you need to carry her as quickly but as carefully as possible over to the medical facility.” Bruce began to say something, but one stern look from the butler shut him up quickly. Damian noticed that he had not been given a job to do so he just silently moved out of the way as his family prepared to try to fix his mistake.

As everyone got into position, Bruce soothingly whispered to his daughter, “Okay, my little one. I am sorry, but this next part is going to hurt. I need you to stay as still as you possibly can.”

She gazed up at her father through half-lidded eyes, “S’okay …. It doesn’t hurt anymore….” Bruce and Dick exchanged worried glances but silently prepared themselves.

On the count of three, Alfred pulled the sword from the girl’s stomach in one swift, fluid motion. Her body spasmed as her agony-filled scream echoed throughout the cave. Dick slammed the towel into the wound as a fountain of blood sprayed into the air. In seconds, she was a moaning, shaking mess in Bruce’s arms as he bolted to the medical facility.

Damian slowly sunk to his knees on the bloody mat. Each one of his sister’s screams or sobs from the other room was like a physical punch to the gut. He had done this to her, accidently or not. He was the cause of her suffering. She was the one person who had been by his side every day of his life. She was the one person who truly knew everything he had endured both with the League of Shadows and with the Bats. She was the one person he could trust without hesitation, and yet he had done this to her.

As another wail tore through him, Damian folded over until his head was pressed firmly against the mat, not caring as her blood soaked into his hair. He pressed his hands tightly over his ears attempting to drown out her cries and the frantic voices of their family as they tried desperately to save her. It did little to block the sounds and he was soon rocking back and forth on his knees, tears streaming down his face, silently begging for it all to stop.

And then it did. Damian had thought the noise had been torture, but he soon realized it was nothing compared to the sudden uncertainty of the silence. He froze, terrified at what this newfound stillness meant. Damian felt a hand gently rest on his back and then Dick was pulling him into his chest. When his brother quietly murmured, “She’s going to be alright.”, Damian let loose a heart-wrenching sob.

After holding the small boy for a few minutes, Dick helped Damian stand and he walked him into the other room. Their sister was lying on the bed, stomach wrapped in thick bandages, oxygen tube in her nose, IV in her arm. Though unconscious, her face was still pinched in pain but at least Damian can see her chest steadily rising and falling.

Jason was in the corner of the room, pacing back and forth, fingers subconsciously twitching at his hip. Normally when he was this agitated, he would just shoot his problems, but he knew in this situation, his guns were useless. Alfred was cleaning the bloody instruments on the table next to the bed, but he gave Damian a small smile and nod when he entered. Bruce was holding one of his daughter’s hands and staring unblinkingly at her face. Everyone always joked about how little the twins were but seeing her lying here like this, he thought she had never seemed smaller, more fragile.

A soft sniff behind him alerted Bruce to Damian’s presence. As the young boy approached his father’s side, his eyes were trained meekly on the floor. “Father, I am so sorry for injuring her. I did not mean to, but it was still my blade, my hand that did this. I am willing to accept whatever punishment you deem is appropriate.”

Bruce sighed and pulled his son into his chest, arms encircling him in a hug. Damian stiffened in surprise. “It’s okay, son. It was an accident. And…. I’m sorry for how I treated you earlier.” He glanced at the sleeping form in the bed. “I was scared for your sister, but I still shouldn’t have brushed you off like that. She was right. It wasn’t your fault.”

At these words, Damian collapsed into his father’s embrace. He still felt responsible for his sister’s current state, but he felt a wave of relief wash over him with the knowledge that his father was not angry with him.

Eventually, Damian gently pulled away from his father so he could approach the bedside. As he grasped her hand tightly, he watched his twin’s face soften slightly, as if calmed by his presence. In that moment, Damian swore that he would never let anyone hurt his sister like this ever again.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 27: Princess (Royal/medieval AU)

AO3

Prev

The shrill akuma alarm wakes Marinette up the next morning and she sighs, rubbing her head gently before grabbing the bottle of painkillers that Dick had left next to her on the table.

“Don’t leave yet!” A voice calls from the other room. Marinette frowns, but listens, quickly taking a couple painkillers and letting herself wake up. Dick rushes into the room, nearly falling as he slides across the floor in his socks. He rushes over to her and kneels in front of her, staring into her eyes. She frowns.

“What are you doing?” She asks, too tired to try and comprehend what’s wrong with her brother right now.

“Checking your eyes and seeing how bad your concussion is so I know if I need to call Adrien to keep a closer eye on you for this fight.” Dick says, frowning slightly at something he sees. He reaches out and gently pushes a spot on her head and she hisses in pain.

“Hey, ya big jerk, that hurts!” She complains, giving him her best ‘Damian’ glare. He just rolls his eyes.

“This is serious kid, you got seriously injured last night.” Dick reminds her. She purses her lips.

“I know, and I promise I’ll take it easy later, but right now I really need to go.” She pleads. Dick sighs, but nods, standing up.

“Go kick some butterfly butt.” He says with a small grin. Marinette grins back at him, quickly calling her transformations and portaling away to Paris. She blinks in the bright sunlight, trying hard to push away any disorientation she has from the stupid concussion. I can do this, she thinks, glancing around to assess the situation. She frowns at her surroundings. She knew she was technically in Paris, she could see the Eiffel tower and Kaalki never misled her before. Well, not during an attack anyway. But where the giant modern buildings should be, there were small stone buildings with thatch roofs. Glancing around, she also notices a huge, stone castle where her school used to be. That should be fun.

“I am the Dark Knight, and I will not rest until I have Chat Noir and Ladybug’s Miraculous!” A voice shouts out above the rest of the noise. Marinette creeps over and just blinks at the fashion atrocity before her. She was going to slap Hawkmoth twice when she found him. Once, for terrorizing Paris for over a year. And again for the awful wardrobe choices he made. Seriously. And the Dark Knight? Isn’t that name trademarked, or something?

“Hey Bugaboo, what’s the plan?” Chat asks, landing beside her and leaning on his baton. She frowns.

“I don’t actually have one yet. I just got here.” She says, and this time he’s the one confused.

“But you always rush over.” He says, careful not to include anything about Kaalki. You never know who might be listening.

“I’ll explain later. Any idea where the object might be?” She asks, scanning the akuma. It’s power didn’t seem too awful. It had changed most of the structure in Paris, and now it was changing people’s clothes too when they got hit by the orange light. Some citizens were in what Marinette could only assume was the height of fashion during the Renaissance, whereas some citizens were draped in obvious “peasant” outfits. But there didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason for the difference. Just a difference.

“The satchel looks promising.” Chat says, and Marinette grins, a plan slowly taking hold in her mind. She’d just need two paper clips, a stick of gum and whatever her lucky charm was.

---

“Pound it.” Chat says holding out a fist. Marinette grins, returning the fist bump. “Did you have time to talk? You know, about why you were late?” Chat asks, and Marinette sighs but nods. They both recharge in an alley before swinging to sit on the top of the Eiffel tower.

“I fought an akuma alone, while you were out of town.” She says first, shrugging lightly. “I didn’t think about it, honest. I’d done it a million times before with Monsieur Pigeon. But the Bat got mad.” Marinette says, not wanting to risk calling him her dad while she’s masked in Paris. It just felt like it was asking for trouble.

“Cause you fought alone?” Chat asks, frowning.

“Well, that and I sort of jammed the Zeta tubes so that outsiders can’t come to Paris during an active akuma attack.” She mumbles under her breath, wincing at the noise Chat’s neck makes when he jerks around to stare at her dumbfoundedly.

“That’s insane. How’d you do it?” He asks and she simply grins.

“Spent enough time with Pegasus and Red Robin and Oracle. Add in a tiny bit of luck and boom. I win.” She smirks

“So you were late cause you’re grounded.” Chat says simply, a proud smile on his face as he thinks he cracked the code. Solved the mystery.

“Not quite,” Marinette says with a slight frown.

“Then what?” Chat asks. Marinette lets out a long sigh, glaring at Adrien to let him know she’s not happy about this situation, she does not want to talk to him about this. He’ll just get all worried.

“Well last night I was still benched from patrol because of the whole akuma attack thing but Tikki thought I should be ungrounded so I went out anyway and then the dude that stabbed me a couple months ago found me and the rest of the Batclan didn’t know that I was out so they couldn’t help me and I was all alone and then he knocked me out and I don’t really remember much except I woke up at Nightwing’s apartment and met Starfire and yeah that’s it.” She rambles, shooting him a smile and waving nonchalantly.

“I’m going to wrap you in bubble wrap. No, I’m going to make the Batclan do it.” Chat finally says, pulling out his baton.

“No, don’t! Batman doesn’t know. Neither does Hood or Red Robin. Only Nightwing and Robin know.” She says, swatting the baton out of his hand. The last thing she needed was for him to accidentally call her dad on her. She’d be in so much trouble.

“Geeze Bug.” Chat mutters under his breath, tugging her into a hug. She sighs and hugs him back, taking just a moment to relish being with her friend.

“I’m pretty sure Batman is narrowing down his Hawkmoth suspect list.” She mumbles, and Chat pulls back from her, staring into her face.

“Are you serious?” He asks, the relief on his face clear. Marinette nods, and Chat lets out a long sigh. One that Marinette could feel in her bones, because she was tired too. She also wanted to end this fight. Hopefully her dad would have a suspect soon.

---

Bruce Wayne was the world’s greatest detective. He had solved cases infinitely larger than this one, so he didn’t understand why he couldn’t find a damn lead on Hawkmoth. Actually, he understood perfectly. It was magic. God he hates magic. It’s unpredictable, and most of the time it’s more trouble than it’s worth. He sighs and sends a quick text to Dick, double checking that Marinette had made it back to his apartment okay. He knew his daughter was...upset with him for benching her and demanding she take someone with her to Paris. But they were all precautions, just to guarantee that nothing worse happened to her. She wasn’t invincible, no matter how much she seemed to think she was. He frowns at the text he receives back, quickly hitting call and waiting a few moments for Dick to pick up.

“Hel-”

“What do you mean she’s not at your place?” Bruce asks, not giving his eldest son a chance to talk.

“Well hi to you too, B.” Dick teases, and Bruce just knows he’s grinning. He lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Is she really not there? The akuma attack ended nearly twenty minutes ago and she’s not here either.” Bruce says, trying to think of where else she would go. Jason was even at the Manor, and hadn’t heard from her either.

“No, B, she’s not-” Dick pauses, then lets out a long sigh. “It’s B. He was wondering where you were.” He hears Dick say, and Bruce is surprised to hear his son’s tone. It was less carefree and more...like a father. He was a father, with Mar’i, but it was still odd to hear him use the tone on someone besides his granddaughter.

“I had to talk to Adrien.” He can barely hear her say and Bruce lets out a frustrated huff. Of course she was with the Agreste boy again. Honestly, he seemed nice enough until Selina pointed out the crushes that the two had on each other. Now, Bruce wanted nothing more than to lock him away. Far away.

“Can you please ask her if she’s coming home tonight?” Bruce finally says, listening to the silence on the other end. He wonders if they’d put the phone on mute or if Marinette was signing furiously the way he’d seen her do over a video call with Cass earlier in the week.

“We’re all coming. See you at dinner.” Dick says, hanging up almost fast enough for Bruce to not hear the protest from Marinette. Almost. Bruce walks to find Alfred, trying not to let the fact that his daughter doesn’t want to see him again get to him.

---

Marinette glares at her oldest brother as they walk into the manor. He just grins, acting as if he hadn’t practically forced her home. It’s not that she didn’t want to come home, but she knew she had a couple bruises and a lump on her head. She also knew that Damian was apparently barely holding himself back from hunting down Slade. She really didn’t need Tikki giving him any ideas.

“Welcome home, Miss Marinette. Would you like me to look at your injuries?” Alfred asks immediately walking towards her as he walks into the room. Marinette glances around, hoping her dad isn’t around before sighing.

“No thank you Alfred, I’m fine.” She reassures him, or she tries to. His face doesn’t look like he believes her.

“Yes, I’m certain a concussion is nothing to worry about. Especially since you’ve had so many.” He drawls, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Hey, whoa. You said this was your first concussion.” Dick says after urging Mar’i to fly off and find Jason or Damian or Tim. Marinette huffs.

“It is.” She says, crossing her arms.

“The concussions you sustain in the suit still count. Head injuries are not an exact science. Nor are they an exact magic cure, either. They often heal at an accelerated speed, but can still have long-lasting effects.” Alfred says and Marinette blinks. That was almost- Almost- information about the Miraculous. And only someone who knew about the Miraculous would know about the whole head injury thing. She blinks at him for a moment, running possibilities through her head. She sighs, realizing that if Alfred had been a holder, it was definitely for a Miraculous she didn’t have. She could just...feel it.

“I promise I’m fine, and if I start feeling any of those other concussion symptoms, I’ll come to you.” Marinette promises.

“And how did you get a concussion?” Her dad asks, practically materializing out of nowhere.

“Akuma attack. Miraculous cure can’t do a complete heal with concussions, it’s too, uh, dangerous. Not exact.” Marinette lies, trying hard not to do any of her tells. She doesn’t tense up, she doesn’t grin, she doesn’t look at someone else and giggle, nothing. She lies with a straight face, which honestly almost scares her more than getting yelled at by her dad. He just hums before nodding at her.

“Will you be staying here tonight? Most of us have patrol, but afterwards Tim suggested that we all watch a movie together.” Her dad says and Marinette tries hard to suppress her grin. There’s no way.

“Wow Tim, you really wanna have a full-family movie night?” She calls out, grinning at the surprised look on her brother’s face. Because of course her dad was the one to set it up, but of course he didn’t want anyone to know. “I think that’s super cool Tim. As long as we can watch some Disney princess movies.” She adds, laughing as Mar’i comes flying around the corner with wide eyes.

“Did someone say princess?” She squeals, flying straight into Marinette’s arms. Marinette grins at her niece and nods.

“Oh yes. Timmy has decided we’re gonna watch Disney princess movies as a family all night long!” She says, laughing as her niece cheers. She glances at her Dad and tries hard to hold back the snort that wants to come out at his exasperated look. Looks like it’s gonna be a Disney night for the Wayne household.

Next

Tag list:  @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @laurcad123 @waiting247 @jayjayspixiepop @mizzy-pop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial

[scorpionyx9621]

I Hope Hopeless Changes Over Time: A Red Hood and Batman Fic

*Source of the image I found off of Pintrest. I tried to find the original artist but the link on Pintrest led to a dead Tumblr account. If anyone wants to find/point out the account to me so I can give proper credit to the artist please please do.*

I wanted to make a fic based on an ask I did from the lovely @dilfbatman about Jason and Bruce. I hope people enjoy this mini-fic that I've expanded upon.

TW: Blood, Physical Assault, Suicide Ideation, Swearing. Bruce being a shitty father but trying. Jason having demons 

3.75K words. 

Bruce was uneasy about Jason staying over at the Wayne Mansion. Even with other members of the family around. Jason has done so much wrong and has hurt so many people. However, at the end of the day, Jason still is his son. So when he gets a call from Jason in a hushed voice asking Bruce to stay the night. He hesitated for a second, but acquiesced, Jason was nothing if not independent, so to be asking Bruce outright to stay at the Wayne Manor meant something was wrong.

"Master Jason wouldn't reach out to any of us unless something was gravely wrong, Master Wayne." Alfred had reassured Bruce, who was staring absentmindedly at the glass case which housed Jason's old Robin costume. The costume that Jason had died in. Bruce always tried to repress the memory of holding his son's cold, lifeless body. The pain he felt from losing his parents burned in his heart as an everlasting stab wound. But the pain from losing Jason, his son, it was too much to bare.

"I'd be welcoming to Master Jason, but keep your distance. Master Damian is spending the night at Jon Kent's house, Master Richard is in Blüdhaven, and Master Timothy is with the Teen Titans tonight. I'll rest assured Jason doesn't try anything to harm you. But don't try to encourage a confrontation." Alfred explained. He always seemed to understand Jason to a tee after he came back to life.

"I don't know how you do it Alfred, you can read the boy like a book." Bruce had retorted. Cocking a half-smile to the man who raised him since his parents died.

"Master Wayne, Master Jason wears his heart on his sleeve. He always has. And one of the reasons why you two fight constantly is because, for as terrific as a detective you are, you are horrifically inept in reading the emotions of your children." Alfred had stated, those words bit Bruce. He wasn't expecting such sharp words from Alfred. "We failed Master Jason. And he's hurt, he's been hurt for years because of it. However he keeps choosing to come back and try and trust again. We needn't come at him with accusations of ulterior motives, but we should be supportive." Alfred stated.

"But cognizant of what Jason is capable of." Bruce added back. Jason may need help, but he's still dangerous. He has tried to kill Bruce and the rest of the Robins multiple times. He wants to trust Jason and warm up to him again. But the man who wears the Red Hood and stalks the streets of Gotham killing those he deems criminals is not his son anymore.

Alfred and Bruce greeted Jason as he walked in the large double doors of the Wayne Manor. The first thing Bruce noticed was the dark circles under Jason's eyes. It seemed as if the man hadn't slept in days. Jason was wearing sweatpants and a fitted black wife beater, accentuating his muscles. Jason would have looked more intimidating had his body language not suggested he was as disheveled as he was, physically and mentally.

"Thanks Alfred." Jason had said meekly towards the butler. He took one step into the mansion and looked at Bruce. Bruce noticed as soon as Jason's eyes met his, his tired irises contorted into anger. His lips pursed downwards but Jason chose not to say anything. Instead just walking past Bruce pretending not to acknowledge him.

"Master Jason, you will be staying in the guest suite on the main floor. I've already prepped everything for your arrival. Please make yourself at home." Alfred had said. Jason just shook is head as he headed towards the hallway leading the guest suite. Bruce didn't notice it immediately but the stench Jason had emitted stung in the air. It smelled like stale liqour and body oder. It seems Jason hadn't bathed in days. Bruce had wanted to say something but chose not to.

The evening went by quietly enough. Jason had taken a shower and changed into another fitted wife beater but still sported a tired energy about him. Alfred had put together a beef pot roast for dinner with red potatoes, carrots, onions, and celery over garlic mashed potatoes. A favorite dish of Jason's. The three of them ate quietly as Bruce continued to size up his son. He was conflicted. At one point he saw the man who blew up the head of a Gotham security force member with a torture decide he had created. On the other hand, he saw the boy who would beg for Bruce to buy him more books after he finished the maximum amount a library card would allow for a week in the span of 3 days. The son who told him being Robin gave him magic.

The dinner ended as it began. With awkward silence and the father-son duo eyeing each other. One with cautious trepidation and the other with abject hate. Bruce had decided not to go on patrol tonight as he felt he needed to be at the manor should anything happen while Jason was here. An uneasy sense of dread built over Bruce as he had said good night to Jason as the two passed by each other in the halls. Jason simply spat 'Bitch' at Bruce and walked into the bedroom. Bruce had been bad with other people's emotions, but something didn't sit right with the way Jason was carrying himself. He had decided to stay up tonight regardless. A sense came over him after being sworn at by Jason. A sense he hadn't felt in a long time. He felt as though his son needed help.

————————————————————

"You're a monster"

"Jason is a murderer"

"Stay away from Jason, he'll kill you."

"No one wants you around, Todd"

"You're just a good guy trying to be bad"

"This is the kid you had to replace me with as Robin? Bruce he's pathetic."

"I can't believe my daughter wasted the Lazarus Pit on a miserable failure like you."

"Maybe I'd be better off dead"

Jason tossed and turned. It's been days. He couldn't get the voices out of his head. Those whispery, moany voices that taunted and tormented him. He knew it was a result of the Lazarus Pit. Ever since Roy died and everyone left him the voices started taunting him again. He tried everything he could to get the voices to stop. He drank, he read, he worked out, he did everything he could. The only way the voices became quiet were when he was beating the ever-loving shit out of some criminals. This was not the mindset Jason had wanted. He wanted to go back to being supported by Bruce, the man who betrayed him. He knew that Bruce was weak. He couldn’t kill the Joker because of his weakness. 

Jason got up and walked over to the connecting bathroom to the suite that he was staying in. He went to the sink and splashed some cold water on his face. Against his better judgement, Jason looked up to the figure he saw in the mirror. He took note of his jawline, his face, his green eyes, his muscles.. but one thing that caught his eye was the fucking skunk streak of hair at the top of his head. The physical reminder of his dip in the Lazarus Pit. He had just re-dyed the spot not two days ago and it already came back. He did everything he could to try to hide the streak. It’s what he hated most about his new body. The pit wiped away all of the scars he had on his body. And any new fresh scar or wound would just fade in a matter of moments due to the effects of the pit. The only thing that ever stayed was that damned streak. 

Jason had nothing but disgust and contempt for the man he saw in the mirror, which, ironically, was himself. 

“You’re just using the sarcasm to hide your hatred.” 

“It’s your fault that everyone hates you.” 

“Killing the sick of the masses to save those who are weak is your calling” 

“Those reptiles deserve to die” 

“I don’t want to kill unless I don’t have to.. I don’t want people to hate me..” Jason tried reassuring himself. The voices in his head kept getting louder and louder. “I want Bruce and everyone to love me again....” He continued to try to re-assure himself. It was a false sense of hope as always. His mind soon wandered to a moment where he was on top of Dick in a fight. Confronting his older sibling and reciting a quote he had heard from a Japanese philosopher and optimist as he had the barrel of a gun placed against his older brother’s temple. 

“Do you know what the most convenient phrase in the world is, Dickie? It’s ‘I’m sorry.’ Anyone who hears that is obligated to forgive, no matter how hurt or angry they might be... There's no more disgusting phrase in all the world. It's used to displace your suffering unto others so you can escape your sins... The moment you employ it, your suffering becomes the other person's. A thing can be unforgivable, but oh, if they apologize... I say there's no reason to accept that suffering. You don't have to forgive them. Cast aside the mask of your conscience.“ 

“Stop this. Please stop this.” Jason had begged aimlessly into the air. He didn’t want to live like this anymore. He didn’t want to live, period. He just wanted all of this to end. He had caused so much pain and so much suffering to the people of Gotham all so he could attempt to hurt Bruce. But those words kept repeating in his head. He knew he had to stop this. He needed help, he wanted to go to Bruce and explain what was going on but Bruce would just have him institutionalized. His murderer of a son starts hearing voices in his head? A one way ticket to a padded room. 

Jason suddenly stared back into the mirror and saw something he detested. The green eyes that stared into his soul. The one he hated more than anything else. Was himself. This thing was staring him in the face mocking him, and he wanted it gone. 

“Do it Jason.” the voice had beckoned from the mirror. “Kill them all. Slit Damian’s throat and watch the fucker bleed. Bash Tim’s stupid face into the concrete until there’s nothing but mush. Rip Dick limb from fucking limb. Watch Bruce as you choke the last bit of life from his eyes. I promise all the pain will go away once all of this is done.” the voice sounded almost sweet as it promised to do all of this. Jason just retched as he saw the green eyed monster promising poison to him. He felt his vision fade to black. 

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

STOP IT. SHUT. UP. 

*CRASH* 

Bruce had jumped up from the chair he was sitting on in the library, the voice came from the suite that Jason was staying in. Bruce didn’t have time to think. He just ran towards the noise. He threw the door to the suite open and ran to the bathroom. There he saw Jason in front of a heavily cracked mirror. Jason was hyperventilating and he saw blood oozing from Jason’s fist which was pressed against the mirror. Bruce saw from the reflection that Jason had split open the left side of his lip seemingly from a shard of glass. It wasn’t long before Jason glanced up at the imposing shadow in the mirror and noticed Bruce’s presence. 

“YOU STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME BRUCE.” Jason had shouted at his reflection. Jason was shaking. Bruce had wanted to assess the injury that Jason gave himself. But he knew he was cornering a scared animal if he pressed any farther forward. Bruce stood their frozen. Pondering between trying to press forward upon a killer, or to check up on his son. 

“Jason, I just...” Bruce was cut off by another scream as Jason turned around. 

“IF YOU COME ANY CLOSER I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL KILL YOU WHERE YOU FUCKING STAND YOU PIECE OF SHIT.” Bruce finally got the cue. The hitch in Jason’s voice. This is the same hitch his voice made when he was a kid and was angry at Bruce. Alfred was right. This is his son. And right now Bruce needed not to be the Batman approaching the Red Hood. He needed to be Bruce, to help his son. 

Bruce walked forward to Jason, still shaking as blood oozed from the gashes of glass on his fist. Bruce decided against everything in his gut telling him to stop this criminal. This monster who killed for sport and to prove a point. He needed to help Jason, his son. 

Bruce was knocked back by a fist to his chest. Glass imbedded itself into Bruce as he felt the sting of their shards. Jason was right, he was going to hurt Bruce if he approached. Oracle was right, Jason had been abusing venom. The quick gain in muscle mass was proof enough but the stinging pain in Bruce’s chest also proved that hypothesis. Jason barred his teeth as his eyes displayed a seething hatred. Bruce would have been frightened on any other day. Today, Bruce felt a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. Bruce collected himself and got up to approach Jason again. 

“I TOLD YOU I’M GOING TO KILL YOU BRUCE. I FUCKING HATE YOUR GUTS. I WANT YOU TO DIE. I WANT ALL OF US TO JUST FUCKING DIE.” Jason screamed even louder this time. A hot stream of tears worked their way down Jason’s cheeks. Bruce no longer saw a rage-induced monster but the boy who took a tire iron to his gut on the streets of Gotham. The boy who would was thrilled at every opportunity he got to show Bruce the A’s on every test he got in school. This was his baby boy who needed his help. 

“Jason Peter Todd that’s enough.” Bruce said firmly, but not harshly. Jason stared directly into his eyes. “Jason. I want you to listen to me.” 

“Go to hell you motherfucker.” those words which escaped Jason were laced with poison. Bruce didn’t waver. 

“You can punch me as much as you want Jason and I’ll deserve all of it.” Bruce came closer to Jason. Jason proceeded to physically make himself smaller. Like a scared animal. Bruce remember what he did to Jason after he had seemingly killed The Penguin. How he beat Jason to within an inch of his life. His heart plummeted to his stomach as he saw Jason cower like a scared dog over his approach. 

“What are you going to do Bruce, beat me to a fucking pulp again? You hate me more than you hate the fucking Joker, don’t you?” Jason asked. Bruce truly saw the fear in those green eyes. He had to take a moment and realized just what he was doing. He unclenched his jaw and relaxed his shoulders as he approached Jason. This time he was back within striking range of his son. 

“Jason. I failed you. I have been failing you for the past 10 years since your death. I have failed this city and this family in providing the protection it needs. I couldn’t kill The Joker because I’m weak.” Bruce sucked at emotions and emoting. But Bruce hadn’t felt this shaky and wavering since the day he lost Jason. His son needed to know the truth. He deserved to know the truth. “Jason I never hated you. I hated the actions you have taken against the people of this city. But I’ve come to realize that the hatred and contempt I’ve held is because you do what I can’t do.” 

“Oh so now you’re coming over to apologize? I don’t owe you shit after what you’ve done to me.” Jason had stated. He may have been acting like a pinned animal. But his mouth will never not cut like knives. 

“Jason, when we had fought in the abandoned apartment. And you had the Joker with you. You had tried to shoot me after I had turned away from you.” Bruce said. Inching ever closer to Jason while trying not to be imposing. “In that moment, I threw the batarang because I knew you were going to retaliate against me. But I need you to know in that moment I turned away. I turned away because I decided I wasn’t to be the one to decide the Joker’s fate. He had taken your life and it wasn’t up to me to decide. I want nothing more than for the Joker to pay for the countless lives hes taken and ruined.” Bruce swallowed hard as he felt tears beginning to well in his eyes. “I failed you because I couldn’t kill the Joker. But in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to have my baby boy back. I wanted you back in my life. I still want you back in my life.” 

“Bullshit. Fucking BULLSHIT.” Jason spat at Bruce. The emotions were flooding out of his face. Anger, hatred, fear, but most of all sadness. Jason’s voice began wavering as he began to cry. “If you loved me why in the fuck have you never realized I’ve been trying to help the people of Gotham. Instead every time I take matters into my own hands all I meet are your fucking fists. I hate your guts Bruce. We’d all just be better off fucking dead. It’s all Hopeless. I’m hopeless.” 

Bruce took a deep breath. He tried to find his resolve. He wanted nothing more than to be able to reach out to his son again. “You’re absolutely right Jason. I’ll bet Gotham would be a whole lot better without me. Without the pain I have caused. And no amount of apologies will fix the pain that I have caused you. No words will ever take back the transgressions I have taken against you.” Bruce was crying this time. “But know this. You always have been my son. And I love you so much. The day I lost my parents was agony. The day I lost you, I felt like I had lost myself I felt I had died a bit inside.” Bruce choked out. “We both have done so much we regret. If I could take back all the times I hit you I would do it in a heartbeat. But no amount of sorry will take back that pain. I shouldn’t be in the position to be asking this. But I just want my son back.” Bruce swallowed. “You have every right to hate me, but I will never stop loving you. You aren’t hopeless and you never have been. You never have been a burden. You are valued by so many people. I. I love you my son. I love you Jason."

Jason’s face relaxed from a position of contempt and hatred and soon was overcome with years of pent up tears. Jason let out a hearty scream as he proceeded to weep and sob. As if a dam had broke and was threatening to engulf a town in an apocalypse. Bruce went against everything he had known and was screaming from the inside of his body and wrapped Jason in a hug. He was almost as large as Bruce himself and barely fit around his arms. But Bruce held his son and hugged him tight. Jason was crying uncontrollably. 

“I’m hearing these voices. They’re telling me I’m a monster and a killer and that I should kill all of you.” Jason shouted between sobs. “But I don’t want to. I’m so afraid Bruce. I don’t want to hurt anyone unless I have to.” 

“Just breath Jason. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Let it all out.” Bruce had solidified his resolve and worked on being there for Jason. He couldn’t run away this time. His son needed him more than ever. And Gotham be damned. He’s not making this mistake twice. He’s staying here. For Jason. 

It felt like hours before Jason had run out of tears and sobs. Jason was fading and seemed like he was about to fall asleep. The shards of glass that were imbedded in his hand seemingly prevented Jason from bleeding out. Bruce had saw Jason’s eyes glaze over as his breathing calmed. 

“Jason, I’m going to pick you up and take you to bed.” Bruce had said, asking for permission from his second son. Jason simply nodded as he starred off. He was numb now. The pain seemingly gone for the moment. Bruce lifted Jason up and was taken aback by just how heavy his son was. He truly was 225lbs just like his records showed. This wasn’t the son who hid under the cabinets when Bruce first brought Jason home. But Bruce still saw the boy as his son nonetheless. As Bruce laid Jason on the bed Alfred had approached with a first aid kit. Proceeding to begin to clean up Jason’s hand. Jason was so exhausted he barely felt any of the picking and pulling or the iodine going into his wounds. He kept his eyes fast forward on Bruce. 

“Bruce. I. I’m sorry.” Jason had said meekly. 

“Don’t apologize Jason.” Bruce had stated. He ran his hand through Jason’s hair, giving a soft massage to his scalp. “You get some sleep now. I don’t think you’ve rested in days.” 

Bruce had remembered the time he had read Jason to sleep. This time he had thought back to a poem that struck him from his phone. It was from a famous lyricist and singer. As Bruce pulled up his phone he had found the poem and recited it as Jason fell asleep. Things are far from perfect or even better. But tomorrow was going to be the first day of the rest of his and Jason’s lives. 

“They told me once, ‘there's a place where love conquers all’

A city with the streets full of milk and honey

I haven't found it yet, but I'm still searching

All I know is a hopeless place that flows with the blood of my kin

Perhaps hopeless isn't a place

Nothing but a state of mind” 

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

pHEW GOD THAT WAS LONG. I hope you all enjoyed the fic! This was my first published attempt at angst and whump and while I feel some parts are cringe. I am proud of what I made. 

Big thanks again to @dilfbatman for inspiring this fic. The inspiration of the title is the song Hopeless: by Halsey. The quote about I’m Sorry is from the character Shadow Maya Amano from Persona 2: Innocent Sin. And the poem at the end is the first part of the lyrics to the song Good Mourning by Halsey. 

[popculturebuffet]

Prince of Wishful Thinking (Tom Retrospective): Tough Love or The True Monster

Hello all you happy people and welcome back to Prince of Wishful Thinking, what is usually my look at the life and times of Tom Lucitor but since I NEED to cover the season 3 finale as vital part of Tom’s story, we’re taking one last look at the tragic tale of Meteora Butterfly before the finale sends these two stories hurtling together. You’d THINK this would be the last detour of this already sizeable arc.. and you’d be wrong as i’ll also be covering Kelly’s World, as I feel it’s vital for both “Curse of the Blood Moon” and “A Boy and his hard to remember title”, as it provides extra context for Marco’s anguish in the former.. and provides extra evidence for why a CERTAIN MOMENT in the latter pisses me off to no end.. seriously even when as universe dies and the only people left are Frankllin Richards and Galactus, there will still be a little note reading “Fuck how they treated Kelly” written in all caps so Galactus remembers to yell it. 

So sadly that DOES mean it’s been three entries in this retrospective in a row that either haven’t feature Tom at all or in the case of the last episode only had him in short cameos. I mean we did get his love affair for pie but we also got a creepy goblin man forcing his girlfriend and best friend to kiss each other, his best friend being WAY to eager to jump to that conclusion, and neither considering using Marco’s Scissors because the writers only remember he has those half the time in Season 3... and clearly I ddn’t either as I forgot to mention that plot hole, something @jess-the-vampire​ brought up to me. Sadly I DID forget to consult on this when we talked earlier this week , and she’s not online as I write this so I won’t have her insight for this one. 

But if you want some Tom content, i’m happy to share my crossover ship for the boy with you. I’ve been shipping him with Octavia from Helluva Boss lately.  Because of course it’s Helluva Boss, i’ve not been at all subtle with my obession with it and much like Letterkenny, X-Men and Dragon Ball Z Abriged it is a love I never plan to be subtle about. 

But I just think they compliment each other well: They have contrasting atittudes, and tastes in music, but seem like they’d share hobbies. Like taxidermy.. I could see Tom buying this... demonic combination of a badger, a skunk, a deer and my nightmares Octavia is preciously holding up.

Granted I also feel tom would both animate them with their dead souls.. and then use his new woodland friends of the dammned as a chorus to sing “Can You Picture That” from the Muppet Movie, because that’s what my mind does on a regular day. I think the contrasting attitude creates great chemstiry and it made me also realize I have a thing for ships with directly contrasting home lives.  Tom has two loving decent parents who deeply love one another and at worst simply didn’t reign in his worse behavior because it was standard for demon stuff. Octavia in contrast simply has two parents, one who DOES love her and tries his best, but his best includes calling his side piece “My big dicked blitzy” right in front of her and hiring said side piece to guard them, and her mother who clearly thinks so little of her daughter’s emotional well being she hired a cowboy to shoot her daddy dead in the middle of a large crowd. The point is I think they’d be adorable and they both badly need to be happy after being emotionally fucked over by people they care about. 

But  alas my new ship will have to wait as we marginally important things to get down too.. things that will impact both this season and the next’s endgame and utterly destroy Eclipsa and Moon’s relationship for good. Sound fun? Well if so join me under the cut won’t you?

We open in the Pidgeon Kingdom.. and things aren’t exactly great.. and by that I mean Meteora stomped a hole through it and ravaged the place and Rich demands blood.. and vengance.. and possibly blood vengance. But not Tekken Blood Vengance.. he already has like 5 copies of that on dvd. Still needs it on Blu Ray though, hook him up if you got it. 

So Moon and Eclipsa are trying to smooth this over/find out which way did she go George which way did she go, and are angrily dismissed after they try Rich’s patience, not helped by Eclipsa not being familiar with the Pidgeon Kingdom because they hadn’t slaughtered everyone who used to live there yet. Look that’s what happened, Star outright mentions in the Big Book of Spells that htey suddenly sprung up where another kingdom was and no one knows what happens. There was some bird murders up in that place.. or birdur if you will. Some birds drank some human blood. This is what Alfred Hitchock tried to warn us about with his film built on horrifying actress abuse. 

The point is with some more pidgeon-led murder stabbings on the cards our heroines are trying to find her since their attempts to convince Rich not to go on an Archer Style Rampage fell on deaf ears. 

But it’s clear from the second the two are alone both have diffrent priorties: Eclipsa desperatley wants to find the daughter she lost and talk her down from what sh’es become, help her become better and hopefuly heal from the pain she’s been in. She’s lost her husband, her kingdom and centuries. She can’t loose her baby girl too.

Moon on the other hand... clearly has no intrest in helping Meteora or stopping this peacefully. Her first thought is stopping Meteora. Her living through it is not necessary. It’s also clear her racisim isn’t REMOTELY gone depsite Buff Frog and Star’s best attempts and despite learning just how deeply and horribly Mewni’s engrained racism has hurt eclipsa and destoryed Moon’s own family history. To Moon this is just a big monster to fight.. i’ll dive into this more in a bit.

For now our heroines encounter an angry mob. This time their not here for Homer Simpson, but for Meteora as her rampages have destroyd their towns, livelehoods and given some weird guy a hat. It’s the best bit of the episode and i’m embarassed I forgot it happened. 

So with them being no help our queens back out but end up finding some actual help: Eddie! You know the guy from the episode I skipped over... River’s cousin or something like that. He dosen’t have a wiki entry, I do not know why. He’s voiced by Rhys Dharby of Flight of the Conchords Fame whose since made quite the career as a voice actor. No major roles yet that i’m aware of, but a lot of delightful minor ones like this. It’s good to see him he was one of the highlights of that show and not just because he sang this..

Eddie showed up in the Bog Beast of Boggabah and I honestly forgot he was in this episode.. but again, it’s Rhys Dharby. It’s not like suddenly finding out “Aw god dammit Pauly Shore is in this”. So Eddie agrees to help as he’s been tracknig Meteora.. and we find out something troubling: Meteora is getting BIGGER. Gradually, to the point the bog from said episode Is skipped over is drained because she DRANK IT. We also get a great exchange “I’d hate to see the size of her mother” “Actually her father more than helped with that”

Awwwww.... seriously Esme Blanco is a national treasure and has some great deliveries in this one.. and some heartbreaking ones. But before we can get to that it turns out Meteora sucked the powers out of Eddies family.. who he misses..e xcept one guy> That guy can fuck right off. Seriously Eddie is also a national treasure and I wish he’d shown up in season 4. I mean he couldn’t of HURT it. For one it’s Rhys Dharby and for another that season shot itself in the face, both feet, the groin and then the face again enough that I don’t think anything could hurt it as bad as the writers already did. 

But sadly we say farwell to Eddie as he goes out how men have since the begining of time.. deciding to poke a strange creature till it murdered him. Or took his soul out in this case, speaking of which...

Yeah while I couldn’t get Jess in time for this review, she did bring this up in the past: Meteora’s ablility to pull a 

Comes right the fuck out of nowhere with no build up and no explination for it. She DID drain personalites and according to this episode youth.. but that was with a big ole machine. It MIGHT have been intended to be one of Globgor’s powers.. but that makes zero sense, as if he COULD do that, as we saw with Toffee last season when he had that power, also out of nowhere but at least it made a touch more sense given his power was draining magical energy anyway at the time, so adding souls to that isn’t a huge stretch, but as we saw that would’ve been game over for the comission, especially since we DO see him fighting them one on three next season. If he had this power, he wouldn’t be in crystal and I think they realized that, but just tried to act as if his daugther COULDN’T do that and assumed everyone would casually forget. And I get not accounting for me writing about this years later, even I wouldn’t of thought that, but not counting on fans both young and old to latch onto a continuity error? Have you met fandoms Disney, have you? It dosen’t bring the story down entirely and I get WHY ti’s there, so she can nonlethally kill people so we’re not down most of the cast for Season 4, but it feels like an easy win button and one she barely uses despite it being eye beam activated. It should be easy enough to pull, boom, soul suck, win, rinse and repeat. It’s okay to have uber powerful tequniques but they have to have a drawback. For instance the Kaioken from DBZ. It’s a really damn cool technique that gives the user a neat red aura and amplifies poewr.. but the more you amplify the more strain it puts on your body and the more likely you’ll die, and Super later creatively explained why it hadn’t been used since Super Sayian was introduced because said form would’ve sped it up so much it’d be too much for a body to take. Here whie Meteora dosen’t use it in EVERY fight, she uses it enough that it makes no sense this isn’t just her first move for every fight she gets into, mental breakdown or not. 

That being said Meteora’s current mental state as she talks to her mother, having regressed to talking in only a few words and acting like a child, makes perfect sense. Henious already wasn’t in great mental shape to begin with, having a slow sustained breakdown since Marco overthrew her. and now on top of this she remembers her whole life has been a lie, starts to mutate into her natural state at a rapid and likely unehalthy pace, and then finds out on top of all of this Mewni is rightfully owed to her. Given she ended last episode blowing a guy up for rejecting her, it’s not a stretch that given even more power and no time to process anything, Metora would deteroate further. 

Esme and Jessica really knock this scene out of the park as Eclipsa presents Metora with her old doll Bobo and gently trying ot talk to her.. but you also get the fear Eclipsa feels as she tries to awkardly manuver around the fact her daughter is far more unhinged than she was prepared for, even threanting Eclipsa simply because Eclipsa wanted to be called mother instead of mommy. But despite this fear.. Eclipsa wants to help and Walter beautifuly captured metoera as a hulk like tragic figure:a being with low sanity and too much power desperate to be loved by the one person it cares about. And it makes it even more heartbreaking as Eclipsa explains what happened: bad people trapped her , a disfunctoinal society with a racist queen and even more racist subjects has taken hold in her absence... and it’s clear both want opposite things: Meteora wants what sh’es owed, her family back on the throne and Mewni back in her graps, but has lost herself so much to rage, anger and insanity she can’t see it’s not hers to take, while Eclipsa.. just wants her daughter back. She’d be happy just settling down with her and having a LIFE after hers was taken away. Eclipsa just wants a chance to be with what family she has left. It just HURTS to know that despite RIGHTFULLY hating the comission, despite having eveyr reason to take the crown from Moon by force and make the world better by force.. she dosen’t want that. She just wants some peace. It’s selfish... but it’s hard not to be when you havealmost nothing to hold onto. Eclipsa has lost her legacy, her husband and her crown... Meteora is all she has and all she wants and sh’ed of been happy if she just accepted that. If that was enough. 

But the real telling part, and the thing that ultimately makes this go as bad as it does.. is Moon’s reactions to all of this. Sh’es CONFUSED by Meteora having a toy as if that’s foreign to her a monster would, and she’s cleaerly livid , if restrianing it, at both Meteora’s deire for the crown and Eclipsa RIGHTFULLY calling out the state of how things are, and mildly at that. Despite seeing how much damage Mewni’s inherent racisim has done, how it lead to her living a lie, ruined Eclipss, Globgore and Metora’s lives, despite how DESPERTLY her daughter struggles to fight against it, despite seeing firsthand that Monsters can have famiies and lives... she can’t let it go. She can’t see monsters as people. SHe dosen’t see a flawed person who was turned into a metpohrical monster by years of brainwashing and abuse and is slowly unravling under the weight of her true self.. she just sees a threat to her kingdom. She dosen’t see her kingdom as racist, just as it should be. And she dosen’t see herself as stepping down like hse damn well should’ve the MOMENT she found out everything. Because at her heart Moon can’t accept the truth and clings to her racisim. 

And that my friends.. is what ultimately leads to Tragedy. Not Meteora’s unraveling mental state, not Eclipsa’s naitvite. What happens next is ENITRELY Moon’s fault. Whle Eclipsa was failing to get through to Metora, she was trying her best and might of gotten somewhere.. but Moon was already settling to attack.. and does so, making it look like Eclipsa set her own child up. 

A fight ensues, a suprisingly even one... but Eclipsa breaks it up and PROVES her way could’ve worked. In one of Esme’s best performances sshe tearfully tells her daughter she loves her.. that ALL she wants is time with her to make up for what she’s lost.. she dosen’t need a kingdom or her crown or her wand, all things she DESERVES... she just wants her daughter. She just wants to help her baby girl before she goes so far down this path of hatred and vengance she’s alreayd well trod upon there is no point to return to. 

It gets through to Meteora, makes her stop... and Moon TAKES ADANTAGE OF THAT. She then restrains metoera with a magical rock barrier and starts palpatineing her to death. It’s a horrifying moment that ultimately shows who Moon really is.. that when given the chance to let Meteora go, let her CHANGE and grow as a person and help the kingdom.. she instead tries to kill her. When she’s no longer a threat,  hasn’t seriously hurt her in their fight, and could use her power to RESTORE the damage she’s done, fix what she’s broken and help the kingdom grow and mend the bridges racisim has torn down. But all she can see is a monster, and something to destroy.. not someONE to save. 

So Eclipsa does what Moon would do if it were star about to die and saves her daughter, desperatly trying to stop mooon.. and allowing Meteora to get a clear shot and take half of moon’s soul. While Eclipsa is able to stop her from taking the full thing, Moon is left disoreinted and half alive and leaves on insticnt to parts unknown while Meteora escapes. Eclipsa is left alone, devistated and with her daughter truly lost. And the worst is truly yet to come. 

Before we get into final thoughts i’d like to talk about how this scene impacts Moon’s betryal later. To me having rewatched this scene.. it only makes it work MORE making it clear Moon simply can’t fahtom racial equality and that she can’t fahtom that eclipsa had very good reason for doing what she did ... to me it comes off as her using Eclipsa betryaing her as a very flimsy justifcation to not validate her rule and to first retire and then try a coup. That “Well she “BETRAYED” me so i’m fine. “ But in truth... she betrayed Eclipsa first. She attacked her daughter TWICE when Eclipsa was close to getting through to her Her reasons are flimsy.. because i’ts not ABOUT eclipsa, but what eclipsa represents: equality with a race Moon dosen’t see as people. It’s about Moon’s racisim coloring everything tills h’es truly blinded and should have lost everything She didn’t because the ending is a fucking disgrace, but we might get to that at some point, the point here is for all that disgrace’s faults... it did get it right here, and Moon was always portrayed as being unable to let go of her racisim no matter what it cost her or how much her daughter despteratly tried to change her. Trust me as someone whose Dad used to argue that gay marriage meant he should be able to marry his cat, and who still argues against trans people using the bathroom of their choice, I get trying desperatley to change someone who don’t wanna. “Sigh”. 

Final Thoughts: This episode is truly excellent. The writing is top notch as is the voice acting for all involved and the climax isa true, well led up to tragedy. The animation is also on point, with the characters emotions on perfect display. This is an episode I now realize is one of the series best and worth ar ewatch if you haven’ts een it. Truly amazing stuff that gets me pumped for the finale.. and disapoints me in how the series could reach these highs for one finale.. but would sink to it’s lowest point for next seasons.  Next Time on Prince of Wishful Thinking: Star tries depseratly to find her mom, while Marco, Tom and a motely crew of misfits try to take down Meteora and Tom learns the awful truth from the photo booth and wears a zuko ponytail which weirdly looks good on him. That boy can rock anything let me tell you. 

If you enjoyed this reviews, please consider joining my patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet. As mentioned my 30 dollar stretch goal includes a review of the cluster fuck that is the series final arc, and the goals up to that , me making 20 and 25 dollars a month repectively, have their own nifty rewards: At 20 i’ll review Darkwing Duck once a month, the two remaning Ducktales 87 mini series I have not covered and the Danny Phantom film The Ultimate Enemy. 25 meanwhile gets you reviews of the Proud Family Movie, the theatrical recess movie and the Kim Possible almost finale movie so the drama. And 30 also gets you reviews of every episode of gravity falls season 1 at least one a month till I finish it at some point, so as you can see you get a lot of bang for your buck and these reviews will be public for everybody. Not only that but joining my patreon gets you a review a month if you pitch in 5 dollars and evne if you can’t swing THAT much just 2 bucks gets you access to my discord, a guarnateed pick in my shorts, votes for patreon exclusive reviews, and SAID patreon exclusive reviews. It’s a lot of bang for your buck is what i’m saying so please help me out so I can make a living off this and sign up today. I even JUST ADDED an exclusive and utterly insane scrooge mcduck review, The Great Wig Mystery. So throw in a buck to check that out. 

And if your intrested in Tomtavia... please hit me up. I’m really proud of it and until then... i’ll see you at the next rainbow. 

[catxsnow]

PRETTY EYES D.W.

Summary: Being the daughter of Superman had it’s perks, being human, did not. Being best friends with Damian Wayne, that had its ups and downs too. 

Warning: mentions of blood, 

A/N: I just recently starting loving Jon Kent, I couldn’t resist 

GIF not mine

Word count: 2.7k

Being Superman's daughter had it's ups and downs.

For example, you could fly around the world in a matter of minutes and return as if nothing had happened or uproot the largest trees. It was incredible how powerful you were. You loved having these powers and you loved being able to save people along side your dad... and your brother.

Jon was the baby of the family, even if it only was by a few minutes. The two of you got along as much as any other sibling. You had your arguments, your fights, screaming matches, but you also knew you could always rely on him. Whether it was out fighting crime as a family or you were feeling unwell and wanted someone to confide in.

Jon, as much as a pain in the ass that he was, could be an amazing brother and you truly appreciated everything that he did for you. That included, introducing you to Damian Wayne - Robin. The two of them had been friends for a while and each time that they had a team up, you always felt a little bit left out.

It was easy to notice your disappointment each time he said that he was going to see Damian until he finally asked if you wanted to join him the one day. He would never forget the smile that was on your face.

The three of you slowly became inseparable. Damian was weary of you at first just as he was of Jon. He would never admit it, but the two of you were his best friends. Yours and Jon's bond grew even more. The three amigos - at least that was what your dad called you guys.

You would wander the streets of Gotham at night with Damian and sometimes he would come to visit the farm. There were very seldom times that you would get to see Damian without Jon. Damian could be very uptight at times, and Jon always seemed to be able to ease him back to normal - you were still struggling to find out how to do that yourself.

While Damian liked to train as a hang out, you and Jon often opted for something more fun - like getting ice cream at the park or flying so high up that neither of you could see the people anymore. Of course, Damian hated when you did that, especially when you dragged him up with you as well.

That afternoon, you guys had decided to train. At least - you and Damian did. Jon watched the two of you with very little interest. It was the same thing every time - Damian doing all these extensive moves, slashing you with his sword - that never did any damage anyways - and you would use your brute strength to try and take him down.

You weren't sure why Damian always liked to spar with you, you felt as if you could never be enough to help him learn anything. He needed someone who was a fighter, not a Kryptonian.

However, the nice thing about being able to spar with Damian, was that you had an excuse to watch how graceful he was. No matter how violent he was with his actions, you always found that there was a delicacy to his movements. It was entrancing to watch him work, it always was.

You never told Jon that you gained a little crush on Damian. He would only tease you about it or with your luck, blab about it with his big mouth. So, you kept your feelings silent to everyone. It was just a harmless crush and you were sure it was just because Damian was the only boy your age that even looked at you. 

"Jon, when did dad say we had to be home by?" You asked, mid-fight. Damian just got frustrated that you were so nonchalant about the battle. You floated just barely about the ground, making it easier to dodge all of his attempts to hit you.

Jon perked up at the sound of his name. The worst part about the three of you hanging out together, it meant that one person always felt left out - this time it was him. "Dinner time, I think," he answered. He paid more attention to the fight going on before him.

"Awe, I was hoping we could stay here for supper, I miss Alfred's cooking," You whined. Jon silently agreed with you. "I bet Bruce could ask if we can stay. What do you think Dames?"

"I think that you should focus on the task at hand," Damian snapped. You rolled your eyes but did as he wished. The two of you became even more engrossed in the spar and this time, you were going on offense. Damian was quick on his toes and managed to dodge a few of your punches, but was caught off guard with your left cross.

Your fist collided with his cheek and if you had been using your full strength, you would have been worried for him. Damian's head flipped to the side with the force of the punch and he turned back to you with narrowed eyes. You knew this look - he was angry.

Damian came at you with full force, his sword clashing with the ground as he missed your body. With each dodge, he seemed to be getting more and more angered with you until final he managed to jab the sword right at your abdomen. You didn't have time to dodge it, but normally you wouldn't have needed to worried.

This time, you felt a pain in your stomach that you had never felt before and a sudden lack of air in your lungs. Damian hadn't picked up on what he had done until the sight of blood dripped down your shirt.

Being the child of Superman was awesome - you were impenetrable, bullet proof. However, being the child of Lois Lane? Your powers were not always reliable - just the same as Jon. They were so unpredictable that sometimes you could bounce a bullet of your chest while other days you could bruise from bumping into something.

Within the last year, you thought that you had grown out of this. You never had problems with your powers being out of whack. You thought that your genes had finally settled on the Kryptonian side of things rather than the human side. You were wrong.

"Dames?" You trembled. Your hands went to the fresh wound that he had just created. The sword that was covered in your blood dropped to the ground, the echo of it ricocheting off the walls. Damian caught you as your knees buckled from under you and fear like never before grew on his face.

What had he done?

"Jon!" Damian yelled. Your brother stood there in shock about what was going on before him. Tears rolled down his face as he saw your lifeless body dangle in Damian's arms. Pain ached through your entire body and you felt like you couldn't breath. Was this was being human felt like? "Kent, get Bruce, your father! Jon!"

Jon finally snapped out of his daze. He wiped his face and ran out of the room to go find anyone that was near. Damian cautiously lowered you to the ground. His hands were tightly pressed against your wound. "(Y/N), stay with me. You're going to be fine," Damian tried to keep you awake.

"Dames..." You weakly called out. He always hated when you called him that. Nicknames were stupid to him, yet you continued to call him it. You placed your bloody hand over top of his.

"Stay awake," Damian told you. He was still in shock over what he had just done. The two of you had fought like that dozens of times and each time he had ever pulled that move, your body protected itself and you were imperishable. He forgot sometimes that you weren't like your father - you weren't fully Kryptonian.

He should have known better. Damian had seen Jon scrap his knees while falling and you get a concussion when you were tossed to the ground during gym at school. He knew that neither of you were as strong as your father and yet he assumed just as you had, that you were going to be just fine.

Blackness slowly started to take over your vision. You tried your best to stay awake but it was too hard. Damian's beautiful green eyes bore down at you. They were filled with concern. You could see his lips move and that he was talking but no sound reached your ears. Was this it? Your final moments?

Damian looked away from you, the sound of footsteps catching his attention. Bruce, Jon, and Clark were all coming towards you. Damian looked back down at you just before blackness finally won.

"Pretty eyes..."

><

You woke up to bright lights staring down at you. Pain raked over your abs and you felt paralyzed in your place. With a groan, you managed to be able to shuffle around enough to know that you hadn't truly lost feeling in your body.

After a few moments of being able to grasp your surroundings, you remembered what had happened to you. Damian stabbed you. His sword drove itself right into your torso as if you were fully human. The pain that erupted through your whole body put a chill down your spine at the thought of it.

"(Y/N)!"

You were in Bruce's home in an unfamiliar room. A heart monitor beeped beside you. After all, Bruce Wayne was just human, he needed medical supplies within his home when things went wrong.

The bright lights were replaced with your brother's face peering over you. Without thinking, he nearly pounced on you to give you a hug. His body weight caused you to wince in pain. "Kent," Damian scolded. Jon got off of you with a sheepish look on his face and a string of apologies coming out. "How are you feeling?" Damian questioned you.

"Sore," You muttered. The hoarseness of your voice started you and you attempted to clear your throat. It wasn't until a glass of water was handed over to you did you finally feel normally again. As you thanked Damian, you could see how upset he was about the situation. There were very few times that he ever felt bad about something he did.

So, just like you had before when you were bleeding out in the training mat, you placed your hand over top of his. He nearly jumped at the touched but relaxed as you dragged the pad of your thumb across his skin. "It's not your fault, Damian. We've trained like that dozens of times and we've never had an issue. Besides, speed healing, right? I'm going to be fine."

"You didn't look fine, earlier. I thought I killed you," Damian harshly spoke. He ripped his hand away from you and furrowed his eyebrows. With a sigh you turned your attention to Jon, there was no point in trying to argue with Damian when he was in a mood. It was like talking to a brick wall.

"Where's dad?" You asked.

"I'm pretty sure he's currently trying not to rip Bruce's head from his body," Jon told you. He sat on the opposite side of Damian. There was a tension between the two and you were sure your brother was piping mad at the boy wonder. "I'm glad you're okay. I'll go get dad." Jon patted your shoulder before leaving you and Damian alone.

"I should leave you to rest, too," Damian tried to stand up and follow Jon out the door. He had trouble looking you in the eye with the guilt he was feeling. You were his friend, you trusted him, and he had nearly killed you because he was frustrated that you were effortlessly winning a fight against him. That wasn't something that friends did.

"Sit down," you nearly snapped at him. The tone in your voice took him by surprise and he immediately did as he was told. You peeled the bandage back from your stomach to see only a deep scratch rather than the gaping wound it once was. You were healing and everything was going to be okay. 

"Damian this wasn't your fault, okay? I'm serious. I'm not letting you blame yourself for this. It's no one's fault - not mine, not yours, not Jon's and certainly not Bruce's. I'm half-Kryptonian, things like this happen. Just be glad it was within the safety of your home and not out in the field."

"I'm sorry," Damian still apologized. You were pretty sure that this was the first time he had ever spoken those two words to you. The feeling was foreign. "You are a respectable opponent, I never intended to do this."

"I know," you assured. You weren't mad at him, not at all. "We all make mistakes in life, gods knows I've made a lot. As long as you accept that you've done something wrong and learn from it, that's all that matters. We all do things that we regret, it's just a matter of what kind of person you become afterwards."

"You're much wiser than your brother," Damian spoke - you swore you could see him try to hide a smile.

"I get it from my mother," You weakly chuckled. "I know you're not a hugger, but I am going to pull the guilt trip card on you and say that I deserve one, so come here." You sat up straight and opened your arms for him to hug you. Damian reluctantly followed your order once more and awkwardly embraced you in a hug.

"I meant what I said," you whispered to him while enjoyed the short lasting hug. He was warm, and smelled nice. Damian pulled away from you with confusion written on his face. He stayed close to you, now leaning against the bed you were on rather than all the way in his chair. "When I said that you have pretty eyes. I could look at them all day."

Damian wasn't used to getting compliments. He was told by his mother where his mistakes were made and that he needed improvement. Bruce had told him that he was doing well in training, but never had he received a compliment like that before. So, when the truthful words left your mouth, his cheeks became red.

He heard them when you had passed out, though hadn't thought of what you had said. Damian was more worried about your safety than some compliment that you surely couldn't have meant. While waiting for you to wake up, he hadn't thought about them again. To be honest, he hadn't thought that he heard you properly.

You liked seeing him flustered, it was a rare occasion. You were always so jealous that Damian was always able to maintain his cool when in tough situations. Seeing him like this just reminded you that he was human too.

"I liked training with you more than Jon because I never knew how to approach you otherwise. Grayson - Dick, he's helped me become less like a League member and more like you guys, it's hard though. Feelings, these feelings that I'm having right now, I never was allowed to act upon them growing up, I don't know how to act upon them now."

You smiled at his words. Jon and yourself grew up in such a loving household that you never really thought about how hard it must have been for Damian. Even know, with Bruce as his father, it must have still been difficult for him to express his feelings. You were always open about how you felt, your parents instilled that upon you.

Damian was close enough to you that you could easily reach over to him. Your hands ever so delicately cupped the side of his face. He felt the need to flinch at your touch, but restrained himself. This wasn't the League that he was in company with, it was you - the person that he knew he could rely on.

The soft touch of your hand was a foreign feeling to him. His mother was never affectionate and any kind of hand that was placed on him, was often meant as a punishment for doing wrong. Bruce was better than his mother, but Damian didn't get the same feeling in his chest with his father as he did with you.

Damian wanted to lean into you hand. He wanted to embrace the feelings that you gave him, no matter the fear that he had to do it. However, your hand dropped down to rest over his and he felt an instant chill without your warmth. This time, he didn't flinch away as you placed his hand between both of yours.

"Well, Damian Wayne, if you'd let me, I'd like to help you with that too."

[brucewayneargento-moved]

To All My Fathers (Chapter 1)

Summary: Damian Wayne, a fourteen year old with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, goes onto a road trip with the four men who shaped him as a person before his bone marrow transplant.

Fic also avaliable on FF.net

Damian had definitely decided he would not wear a fanny pack.

It didn't matter that it was the most convenient and comfortable way to take a chemo pump iv from place to place. He'll much rather attract attention with a backpack connected to a pump than to regress back to the eighties in the most horrendous fashion. Sure he might pick up unwanted attention from strangers but A) He could always stare at them back; B) He was past the time to care and C) He already didn't have eyebrows so that was kind of a moot point.

The boy was currently seated at the med bed of the 666 room. (Drake had made several jokes about it, which Damian didn't mind and in fact encouraged, because with his diagnosis came a morbid sense of humor and he was also glad at least one person still treated him like a human being). He was practicing violin while he could still hold it and also enjoying the fact that he was wearing actual comfortable clothes and not a paper robe that made his autism completely and utterly fucking lose it.

Some kids from the other rooms had come to see him perform and Damian loved to have an audience. Because he had an ego, not as much and not as evil as people usually thought, but still. Most of them were children younger than ten who just needed some entertainment that wasn't a superhero.

"This was Ode To Joy by Bethoveen," Damian explained. The three children around him applauded. When they stopped he could still hear hands clapping, he looked up and his eyes met his father's.

Bruce came closer to him and the kids left after being called by a nurse. Boy and man looked at each other for a few seconds.

"Are you ready?" Bruce finally asked

Damian might have sounded insane if he said it outloud, but his father and Jon were very similar.

The blue eyes, the black hair and the fact that they both cried before or after entering a room with Damian in it, bonus points if he was being stabbed with a needle right at that moment, then you could see their eyes getting crystalized almost in slow motion.

And it's not like Damian was annoyed by their emotions as one might have thought, it was more of a...sting, (man being stabbed with a needle on a daily basis was really taking a toll on him, wasn't it?) like, something that hurt but it wasn't enough for him to do anything about it more than to grit his teeth and power through it.

Numbness was apparently a common thing among patients. But Damian thought of himself as many stuff, but common wasn't one of them

And perhaps his ego was the only thing keeping him optimistic, perhaps thinking that he was too special to die alone in a hospital room was what made him stronger against the whole GvHD thing.

Leslie had told him that he was lucky to find a donor that was relatively near, in Kansas nonetheless, home of Superman and. So now he had just to keep up with the program: L-asparaginase,dexamethasone and vincristine several times a day and wait.

Or at least that was the original plan.

"Yes." he finally answered, standing up.

When all you receive in your life is gaslighting, you don't even notice the medical gaslighting.

Maybe it was the whole "being indoctrinated since birth by an ecoterrorist death cult" thing but his ability to exercise his free will hadn't been particularly developed.

The bruises? Vigilante stuff. The fever? Probably the flu. Weight loss? Maybe he had gotten a growth spurt that just made him seem thinner…He had to throw up blood to even be admitted into a hospital.

The Wayne-Head name allowed him the finest care probably ever known to man. "Nepotism: where you can die comfortably" that was an actual thing he had said while high on sedatives. He could only imagine his mother's face upon hearing it.

When he woke up both his parents were there. Damian could immediately tell something was wrong. His father was crying and his mother was stoic.

"Oh, ok, so I'm dying" He said, grabbing their attention. Both Talia and Bruce turn to look at him. Damian tried to sit and noticed his arm was cranked to an IV. "Oh, I'm actually dying."

"Do not speak like that." His mother warned him with a threatening voice. Bruce kept quiet but still with a face wet with tears.

Next to them there was a third person. She was an older woman with gray hair and glasses. Doctor Thompkins, his father's godmother. She went over to the medbed and sat on the foot. Damian crossed his arms. She was a smart woman but had the annoying habit of treating him like a perpetual child. Probably the closest thing he had to an actual grandmother.

"Damian," she fixed her glasses and looked at the clipboard she was holding. "Your blood count is in the 200.000 white cells."

Damian's eyes slightly widened, which covertly hid how much of a gut punch he just received.

"I can't have leukemia," he simply stated. There was a slight pained sound coming from his father's mouth which made Damian look him in the eye…that's how he knew it was true.

He started to grin which turned into a giggle which turned into a laugh.

Bruce and Talia looked at him with worry.

"Denial is very common," Leslie stated, trying to remain calm and also sooth Damian up. The teen kept laughing and then stopped to talk.

He had tears in his eyes. "I mean... so much for being an eugenics frankenstein monster, I've failed at even that."

The rest of that afternoon was a blur for him. Except for the being stabbed with needles on his spine parts, that one he remembered very well. Since he had such a high tolerance for pain, the fact that he was casually hurt was news to him.

Of course Dick had been the first one to enter the room.

Damian had hoped that he wasn't but after all it made sense that he did, he was his Robin. He could imagine him punching a wall and screaming when he heard the news. That mental image didn't upset him at all, clearly.

Damian was pretending to watch TV where his oldest brother entered the scene. He had prepared what he was going to say. How he was okay and how he was too stubborn to die anyways. But all of that went to hell when Dick entered the room and immediately ran up to hug him.

All of the walls he had been building up until now feel down hard. Damian just had to press his head against Dick's shoulder for the tears to start running.

"I want a falafel."

They were in the hospital room after a particularly hard session of chemo. His brother was on a chair in front of him reading a book and not looking at him.

"You just threw up on my shoe," he reminded Damian.

"I'm here for a good time, not a long time"

Dick rolled his eyes, now accustomed to the fact that his sibling had developed a morbid sense of humor because of his condition. Right at that moment the door opened and Doctor Thompkins entered the room.

"How are we?" She asked.

"Great." Both responded almost robotically. Damian gagged.

"I wanted to talk to you, Dick, about the bone marrow transplant."

"Why not talk to me?" Damian intervened. "I'm the one whose blood isn't working."

"Because you're still a child," Dick answered as a matter of fact. And despite everything he was glad his older brother at least now had the courtesy of treating him like he had always done. "What's the prognosis, doc?"

"We're considering the umbilical cord transfusion." Leslie explained. "But you will have to ask my godson first.

"Why would he need to...wait...Selina's pregnant?!" Damian asked but then he threw up again. "That wasn't meant to signify my feelings on the matter."

Leslie continued. "But that will still take a few months and...I'm afraid we don't have that much time."

Damian pretended to gag and looked down at the bucket, all to avoid looking at Dick's face.

"But the good news is that we found a match."

Damian hadn't even had time to think about that sentence before he blurted it out, but now it was there, out in the open. For everyone to hear.

"I want to have children."

Everyone being an hyperbole since Alfred was the one who was actually there. His father had to go to patrol so the butler had the night shift to take care of Damian while at the hospital to which the boy was appreciative of. Except for this moment when he was mentally slapping himself for letting on too much. Side effects of being raised to be a killing machine.

"I...did not know that." Alfred admitted. Up to twelve seconds ago he had been standing up listing the symptoms of chemo at Damian's request since he didn't trust Leslie to do it without sugarcoating it and his father might burst into tears in an attempt to do so. Damian had been listening attentively before Alfred mentioned that it was possible that he might wind up being infertile.

The boy simply turned around to the other side of the bed and sighed as tears left his eyes.

Dear Damian

I could not be more content that you are receiving the transplant that you so much need. I wish I could accompany you on the journey to Kansas, but sadly Lady Talia needs me to look out after Bialya...I wish you nothing but a rapid recovery. I implore you to remember that you are not alone in this, to remember that there is a plethora of people that adore you with all of their souls and that you will always have their help. Even when you do not want it.

Best Wishes

Ravi.

Damian looked at Alfred who glanced at him for a nanosecond in the mirror of the car. He knew he was the most active ally he had in this game. Since he not only advocated to his father for this trip to be possible but he also was the only person to always show his compassion in spite of if he actually deserved it or not. Bruce was next to him while Richard sat next to Damian and assesed his condition.

They stayed in comfortable silence in the car with only the sound of "dad music" on the radio for background noise. Damian allowed himself to close his eyes and to feel the soothing bounce of the car against the pavement on his skin...

They stopped suddenly after a while and Damian opened his eyes, he frowned in confusion as Alfred parked the car in front of the airport.

"What are we doing here?" he asked curiously.

Alfred turned around to look at him. "Your father , Master Richard and I thought It'll be a good idea to fly in a friend of yours."

Damian's frown deepened. "A friend?"

Suddenly a tap was heard on the window. They both turned around to look at the front window. It was being slightly knocked on it by a man with a white cane and a bald head who was smiling at them.

"Ravi?" Damian rubbed his eyes and felt them watering up.

Damian knew that he could never make up to Ravi for being responsible for losing his vision. And he also knew that in spite of that the man would still love him unconditionally.

That could be proven easily by the letters that he had written to him when he found out about his diagnosis…

All his father figures were here, suddenly he felt an internal strength he hadn't felt in a while.

[batfamscreaming]

Winter in Kansas [80s AU] 2/2

previously: Bruce managed to sit on the bed for a full five minutes, hands held carefully in each other and breathing slowly, heart steadying, before he locked it in place.

And he left the room, footsteps quiet as he could make them on the carpet, and went back downstairs.

--

Clark wasn't there, but his parents were. Jon was in front of the TV drinking a cup of coffee while Martha hovered behind him, both talking about expected snow before they saw Bruce

“Hey honey, can I getcha something?” She asked.

--

Bruce’s mother had been dark-haired, like him, not blond and graying like Martha. It helped. Even if he'd been hoping to catch Jon.

“...I was wondering if I could ask some stuff outside?” he said softly.

Snitches get stitches. But these two knew. He was just entering the circle. Just confirming.

--

The two of them shared a look. Like they knew exactly what this was about.

Jon sighed and set his coffee down before getting it of his chair. “Sure, Bruce. Lemme just get my shoes on.”

--

Bruce nodded, waiting patiently and not making more sound than he absolutely had to for the few moments it took.

He saw the look. He knew what it meant, too.

At the very least, he wouldn't have to ease into this.

--

Once Jon had his dirty, mud-caked boots on and a thick jacket, he stepped outside and held the door open for Bruce to follow.

“So whaddya wanna ask about, son?”

--

Bruce followed, and stepped out into the field behind Jon.

He waited until they'd walked a little before speaking, hoping the crunch of his boots and the Kansas wind might hide his words from someone else.

“...how much can he hear?”

--

Jon turned to face Bruce and hesitated, his face hard to read.

“Pretty far last he told me. I don’t know the specifics.”

His voice was low too.

He gestured for Bruce to follow him. Lead him to one of the tractors, climbed on, and started it up, but then climbed right back down. He talked only loud enough for Bruce to hear over the constant rumble and shake of the machinery.

“More noise makes it harder for him as far as I know.”

The tractor was loud, but it didn't have the same bite as cars flying past on the freeway when trying to walk down the street. He could bear it.

--

“...so that's the only way to get privacy? Clutter the sound?”

--

“I wouldn’t think of it like ‘getting privacy’, Bruce. Clark isn’t trying to hear everything for the next mile. It’s just background noise for him. He tries not to pay attention to it. It’s only when he hears things that worry him that he pays attention, or his name.”

“... Think of it like… standin’ in the middle of a freeway. Your friend is right next to you talkin’, but not raising their voice. You can’t really make anything out unless you hear something like your name, or maybe ‘help’. Words you pay more attention to without even thinkin’ about it.”

--

...he listened, and nodded, but all the same--

All the same.

“...you called me a big name out east,” Bruce said. “When we met.”

--

“Yeah,” he shifted a little on the tractor to get more comfortable. “I know about Wayne Industries. Know what happened to your folks. Was all over the news.”

--

...he nodded, then. Okay. Jon had some context, then--

“I asked a girl out last month and three gossip rags picked it up,” he said. “...my friends tell me private stuff.”

And Clark could hear through walls.

--

Jon sighed, “Are you worried he’s gonna go around telling everyone everything?” He asked, sounding like he had this conversation before. “Before you knew about it, did he go around doing that?”

“He keeps everything he hears to himself.”

--

“That doesn't mean they trusted him with it,” he said. Looking down.

He wasn't… angry. And it didn't come out angry.

But he couldn't stop sounding tired.

Everyone, always listening in. Always hearing about him without him being the one to say it.

Even in Kansas. Jon knew. No chance to say things for himself.

--

Jon sighed, “No. You’re right.”

“... But it ain’t fair to blame Clark. He never asked for any of this. When it first started he used to lock himself in closets or hold his head underwater for… way longer than anyone was comfortable with. Don’t think he slept for at least a week.”

--

“I'm not trying to blame him,” Bruce said, and… he wasn't lying.

It almost surprised him. He wasn't trying to spare this man’s feelings.

“...I'm trying to find a work-around.”

--

“You know what the best work-around I’ve come up with?” Jon said, looking down at Bruce.

“Askin’ him when not to listen.”

--

Bruce looked up at him, expression confused.

Did Jon announce when he had private conversations?

--

Jon just shrugged down at him.

“Sometimes you just gotta take someone’s word.”

--

Okay. He would.

“That include taking his word he can't control it?”

--

Jon nodded, “I know you weren’t around to see it, but my boy went through hell just trying to deal with it. He’s a lot better, and I imagine he’ll keep getting better, but right now… that’s all you can really do. Take his word.”

--

The sharp parts of Bruce’s reply seemed to sail right over Jon’s head. Maybe the tractor’s noise hid the edges in his words. He didn't know.

If there wasn't any way to do it, though, then Bruce had… no other questions to be answered like this.

--

Or maybe Jon just didn’t have the energy in him to respond to it. He looked tired, like this song and dance had happened one too many times.

“That all?”

--

...he nodded. But still, he asked, “could I make a phone call?”

--

“Sure,” Jon said, and reached to turn off the tractor. But first--

“Bruce?”

--

Bruce looked up at him.

--

“... You could do my boy a whole lotta harm with the power you have. And while I can’t force you to do anything, I will ask that you keep this to yourself.”

And then he turned off the tractor.

--

“Mr. Kent,” he said, eyes and voice too steady for a sixteen year old. “I knew he was weird two months ago. I take care of my friends.”

He climbed off the tractor with him.

--

“I’m glad to hear that.” Jon said, and climbed off after him.

He lead him back inside and to the phone that hung on the kitchen wall.

--

Bruce thanked him quietly, and took the phone off the rack to dial.

He didn't have a tractor or anything else but the TV to hide his conversation, but still, he spoke softly into the receiver, enough that the Kents on the other side of the room wouldn't get more than a few snatches of conversation.

“...have the address already? ...okay. Thanks. Bye, Alfred.”

Hung up again.

Shuffled towards the couch.

“...I realized I forgot something, so Alfred’s going to send it in a few days,” he said, assuming that was fine but informing them out of politeness all the same.

--

“Okay.” Martha said, and did pass a look to Jon, who just gave her a nod.

They had a talk.

It was fine.

… There was still no sign of Clark.

--

Clark, he figured, was probably still in his room. He hadn't heard or seen anything to suggest otherwise.

So there was only one thing to do, in the handful of hours left before dinner.

He went to the guest room and dug through his bag, pulling out a clasped wooden box, folded with hinges, and headed to Clark’s bedroom door. And knocked.

--

It took a moment, but Clark did open his bedroom door.

The light was off and his eyes were a little puffy, like he’d been crying but stopped a short while ago.

He hesitated, but did step aside a little to let Bruce in.

“Hey.”

--

Bruce stepped in.

“So,” he said, skipping through pleasantries. “You are: stronger, faster, and have better hearing than me. And you can fly and reportedly burn people with your eyes.”

He sat on the floor without ceremony, and unhooked the box to let the game pieces all fall out, and reveal the pattern underneath.

“So, the next question is: do you know how to play chess?”

--

Clark flicked on the light out of habit whenever someone came inside.

“... Kinda?” He said, watching Bruce plop down on the rug. Like the question confused him.

--

Bruce nodded, starting to set up the chess board. “Kinda? You know how each piece moves?”

--

“Yeah.” He said, and sat down across from him.

--

“Cool. You fine if I take black?”

--

“Go ahead.” Clark shook his head.

--

Bruce took black and made the first move.

And they played chess.

--

Clark knew enough about chess to play, but he was by no means any sort of champion.

Eventually though, he did ask; “Are you mad at me?”

--

“Did you do anything I should be mad about?” Bruce asked, mostly focused on going easy on Clark and playing at his level.

He wondered if he could get this game to a draw.

--

“Be a freak.” He said bluntly.

--

“...” Bruce moved one of his pawns.

He has secrets bubbled up inside of him that he doesn't need to pour out. They aren't his to give. If he can find distaste in Clark overhearing secrets accidentally, he can't console himself in spilling them full-knowing.

So instead, he says, “I've met worse people.”

--

Clark just sighed, like what Bruce said didn’t mean anything.

But he didn’t say anything and continued to half-heartedly play chess. After each move he would pull his arms into himself, hugging them, like out of the two he was the most vulnerable even if it was anything but.

--

...Bruce watched. Saw Clark tugging his arms in on himself. Saw him curled between moves.

“...what are you so scared of?” he asked. Finally. When it was clear things weren't getting better.

--

“Everyone,” he said.

“... After the- the shooting, and whenever I’d do something that no real person should be able to do, Ma and Pa would sit me down and remind me that I needed to keep it to myself. That I had to be a ‘normal human teenager’, even if it was just an act, because what if someone told the wrong person. What if they came swooping down in helicopters to drag me out of the house and go seal me in some secret underground bunker somewhere to stab me with needles.”

“And I try. I try but it’s hard. I run too fast and hear too much. It’s like I’m constantly holding my breath and I can never breathe because if I did someone will hear and drag me away.”

--

….

Bruce nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “...that's…”

God.

God.

He hadn't expected to hear that.

Hear that fear out of Clark’s mouth. The same raw level of fried nerves that knotted in his shoulders and let him wanting to scream, but unable to.

“...I…” God. Fuck. He's spent one day in Smallville, away from Tommy and the pap, and he's falling apart like Gotham was a mould desperately trying to help him hold his shape. “I'm scared of everyone, too.”

--

Clark was trying not to cry again. His eyes were glazed over. He wiped at them before anything could come out and looked over at Bruce.

“Why?” He asked, confused.

He didn’t know of all the things his friend was scared of.

--

To be fair to Clark, it was a very long list.

“Everyone in Gotham knows me,” he said, face the same carefully controlled expression he usually had when he was trying to explain something on their homework, or when speaking to the teachers and adults. “...and they know what I'm worth. I wasn't kidding about kidnappings. They've happened before.”

“...I bribed someone when I was ten. To stay with Alfred,” he continued. “...they wanted to take me away. There's a lot of people who are counting down until I'm eighteen and have access to the money. A lot of people want it.”

“...I just want my family back. And to not feel like every street I walk down’s going to have a mugger with a gun on it.”

...he looked up, and met Clark’s wet eyes with his own, darker, exhausted ones.

“...it sounds nice. To have a friend I don't have to worry about being shot.”

--

Clark finally managed a little bit of a smile.

Friend.

“... Sorry. I didn’t realize having so much money would be such a problem. But it makes a lot of sense. To me that whole… life… just, they show it on TV like it’s anything but a problem. Don’t have to worry about the crop doing well or the cows dyin’ to depend on whether you’re gonna have to cut corners and stuff.”

“I try ‘n do what I can with what I have to help out. Heavy lifting. Lookin’ for engine problems where Pa can’t see. That kinda stuff. I tried to convince them to just let me fly to Gotham too, to cut on bus faire, but they said no.”

He made his move and swallowed.

“I wanna help people, Bruce. That’s why I went to that house and ended up…”

Clark didn’t finish his sentence.

“But whenever I do I just get scolded. And I’m scared that someone will find out it’s me, and then that’d be the end of it.”

--

Bruce listens.

He's still watching Clark’s eyes, and his mouth, and he can't imagine this boy doing what they say he's done.

“Kent,” he says, with steel in his tone. “I would've given anything for someone to get in the way and burn the man who killed my family’s arms off.”

--

Clark smiled a little.

Validation.

…

“I don't regret it. At all. If it happened again I'd do the same thing. Even though I'm scared of being taken away. It'd be worth it, I think.”

--

Bruce picked up one of the chess pieces he'd captured and threw it at Clark’s head.

“Don't be stupid.”

--

It connected but Clark just let it.

“Huh?”

--

Bruce gave him a glare, though it wasn't a particularly intense one.

“You can't do it one time and get taken away so the next guy has a clear shot,” he said. “So next time, don't get caught.”

Geez.

--

He blinked, “So like… do it and run? They'll still see me though and tell the cops.”

--

“No, like don't do it so they know you're an alien,” Bruce said, like it was obvious. “As much as they deserve their arms burned off, it might get suspicious.”

--

Clark gave him a look. “As soon as they shoot me and I don't die they'll know something is messed up.”

--

“Then wear a mask,” he said, leaning forwards, an odd light in his eyes. “Be so alien they can't imagine you're who you really are.

--

Clark looked a mix of shocked and excited. “Like… a comic book hero?”

--

Bruce wasn't sure what the expression on his own face was. “Sure?”

--

… He made his move and didn’t say anything for a few minutes.

“I used to pretend I was one when I was little. I think that’s why I learned to fly before, y’know, all the other stuff.”

What kid didn’t want to fly?

--

...Bruce looked down at the board and quietly moved his piece, too.

“...I lied to you before. About where I'm going when I'm eighteen.”

--

Clark looked up at him but definitely wasn’t mad.

“... You know where you wanna go?”

--

“...I wanna learn how to hunt people down,” he admitted, head low.

--

“... Like… a detective?”

That didn't seem bad or even a little out of character for Bruce.

--

…

“Maybe,” he said. He didn't really have a word for what he wanted.

But Clark used to pretend he was a comic book hero…?

Bruce dropped his gaze again.

“...I found a cave, when I was a kid,” he said. “I fell inside while walking. I used to pretend I lived inside it. A monster. Who would come out and hurt the people who deserved it.”

…

“It's stupid, now.”

He was stupid.

But he was still going to go.

Going to find someone dangerous and powerful, and say teach me how.

--

“That's not stupid.” Clark said, taking his turn.

“... Well, maybe the eating part. But wanting to track people down and make them pay isn't stupid. It's what we're doing now kinda. Looking into the Court of Owls.”

--

“...yeah,” Bruce said. Nodding. “...do you think we’ll find them?”

--

“... I’m not sure, honestly.” Clark admitted. “I feel like we’re finding something deeper but I dunno if it’s the Court of Owls.”

“Just gotta keep diggin’ to find out.”

--

...Bruce nodded.

He took a breath.

“....you're in check, by the way.”

--

“Oh.”

He made his move.

…

“You’re going easy on me.” He smirked.

--

“Yep,” Bruce said, moving a piece on the opposite side of the bored and giving Clark time to escape. “Don't feel bad. I've been playing Tommy for years. Only recently started to give him a run for his money.”

--

Clark huffed, “I don’t feel bad. I know you’re way out of my league.”

It took him a few seconds, but he made his move.

--

...he moved another piece.

“...does that bother you?”

--

‘Maybe a little,’ Clark thought.

But Bruce didn’t even like guys. He knew that after seeing what happened with Tommy.

“Nah,” he said instead with a smile. “I’m just glad you put up with the redneck from Kansas.”

--

Bruce huffed.

“What's that got to do with chess? You guys not play board games out here?”

--

Clark gave him a look.

“Do Kenny ‘n Pete look like they’d play chess?”

--

“Kenny ‘n Pete look like they play tic tac toe,” he said.

--

Clark let out a laugh that could have melted a room.

“Yeah, basically.”

…

“God. I’m sorry about them.”

--

Bruce gave him a confused look.

“...that they have big mouths?” He said. Because, yeah. He was sorry for that, too.

Or was it a flawed intimidation tactic? Hazing?

Not speaking to him for half the day?

--

“Yeah. Big mouths and I think they were just trying to throw you off. Maybe they were kinda mad I made friends back in Gotham and then brought them with me? They’ve been my friends for a long time. Probably know more about me than my parents in some cases.”

--

“They shouldn't have thrown you under the bus like that,” Bruce said, and that was all he could say about them without saying anything cruel.

He moved the chess piece.

--

“Yeah I’m-- I’m pretty pissed at them right now.” He sighed, watching the board.

“Really thought you’d hate me.”

--

“...” yet again, he found himself asking, “why?”

...Clark kept saying that. ‘I thought you'd hate me.’ Why was he so certain? Why…

--

… Clark shrugged.

“I dunno. I’m not a super interesting person or anything and then you throw the whole ‘alien’ thing into the mix. It’s just-- it seems easier to just… hate? I dunno.”

He made his move.

“I’m dumb.”

--

….yeah. Bruce nodded. “Yeah. You are, huh.”

He moved in kind.

“...I take care of my friends.”

--

Clark smiled.

“Me too.”

Made his move.

“So just let me know if you need to move something really heavy.” He joked.

Kinda.

--

Bruce nodded.

“I'll get you renovating the manor grounds in no time.”

“Check, by the way.”

--

He scoffed and watched it happen.

“That a job offer, Mr. Wayne?”

--

“...I can pay ya under the table, but it might damage my reputation,” he said.

--

He looked confused, “Why would that damage your reputation?”

--

Bruce looked up. “...it's black market activity,” he said. “Which is fine on a small scale, but if I was paying someone I’d have to report it.”

--

“Oh, I see what you mean.” He snorted.

--

…he managed a smile about it. “Yeah. I don't exist on a small scale.”

--

Clark didn’t say much to that, and made his move.

… Eventually their game would end and it would be time for dinner.

--

Bruce would go downstairs, and eat with the Kent family for dinner. And--

...and try to not feel strange. Or an outsider. But… it wasn't impossible, in a strange way.

...he knew Clark’s secret, too, now. And it made it easier to slide into a place like this.

Insular.

--

Maybe things were easier for now. They did certainly seem easier for Clark’s parents, and as they started to sit down around the dinner table Jon would ask; “Everythin’ good now, gentlemen?”

And Clark would look over at Bruce and then smile a little and nod.

--

Bruce nodded, “yessir,” and…

It was nice. Even with knowing Clark might hear anything.

Somehow, he still felt a little more free.

--

They had a nice dinner. Jon asked Bruce things occasionally, mostly about how Gotham was, how he liked it. He didn’t ask about parents or business. Just typical kid stuff like school and how it was going. They avoided talk of Clark’s incident completely.

Things around the Kent house were extremely ‘normal’ considering. It was like… bizarre interlaced with normal, and now that Bruce was in on it they didn’t need to worry.

After dinner Jon asked Clark to come help him get one of the tractors out from a mud hole it was stuck in, and if Bruce watched he would see Clark lift the front up and simply back the whole thing up.

--

...and Bruce would watch. From the porch, regular, hot tea in a mug. And he would watch Clark lift the tractor and say nothing.

His friend was an alien. And he wasn't sure, exactly, why he was taking it so well.

...when they came back in, they watched TV and got ready for the night. And… Bruce wondered, faintly, if Clark would hear if he had a nightmare tonight.

But he didn't.

Not tonight.

--

Clark could, but… Bruce had nightmares semi-frequently. It wasn’t polite to encroach on that or bring it up, so he didn’t.

Trust that he’ll give you privacy.

That morning the sun would rise and the day on the farm started even earlier. Jon was up and out of the house before the sun was up and when it did finally rise breakfast would start to be made.

Bacon and eggs with toast.

…

When Bruce came down Clark wouldn’t be there.

--

Bruce found he hadn't been given a time to wake up, and so he woke on his own--fatigued still, but only in the way of waking up in new places--with the clock saying an hour earlier than when he usually woke at school. It was still a dark, and he lay in bed, enjoying the ability to not have to get up immediately. He started his way downstairs when he began to smell food and an unusual amount of sun (in other words: any amount of sun) hit his windows.

“Good morning, Ms. Kent,” he began with, obviously. “...Clark sleep in?”

--

“No I think he’s up already.” Martha said. “He likes to sit on the roof when the sun comes up. He’ll come down soon now that you’re up.”

“How d’you like your eggs?”

--

“Scrambled dry,” he said, and… didn't have to question how Clark would know he was up.

“Okay.”

--

Martha nodded and cracked open the eggs for his breakfast. “You sleep okay?”

There was a small thud on the front steps before the door opened and Clark came inside wearing little more than pajama pants. It would be the first time Bruce had seen him in less than two layers.

It became obvious why.

He was… kind of jacked.

He didn’t look cold either despite the temperatures outside.

--

...what the fuck.

But Bruce kept his mouth shut. His heart sped a little, but slowed again a moment or two later.

“...morning.”

--

“Mornin’.” Clark mumbled, scratching his stomach and instantly rooting in the fridge.

Two cups.

“Y’want OJ or milk?”

--

For eggs?

“Orange juice,” Bruce says, watching him.

--

Clark shook up the OJ and poured Bruce a glass before handing it over to him, but he went for milk.

“Mind puttin’ some bread in for toast? ‘N get the butter out, please.” Martha said, and Clark did as he was asked without complaint.

Martha plated Bruce’s eggs and handed them over, then pulled the towel off the plate in the middle piled with bacon. “Help yerself.”

--

“Thanks,” he said, startled out of his observations for a moment, and--

He was watching two things, a little lost in them both, but at least they were all in this one place. Just--on one hand, caught in the mundanity, in a mother asking her son to pull out the toast and bread, and on the other hand, a small thing in the back of his mind which informed him that Clark’s stomach muscles twisted every time he moved his arm.

He waited until he was joined at the table to even think about eating.

--

Clark made some toast and put it on a plate for them to grab from and by the time he sat down too his eggs were finished.

Sunny side up.

He thanked his mom as he sat down and started to dig in.

“Just cover the bacon back up when you’re done, I’m gonna run out and help your daddy.” Martha said, taking a sip from her coffee before leaving the two eating on their own.

--

Bruce started to eat as Clark joined him, thanking Ms. Kent again, and…

…

“You always sleep without a top here?” he asked, losing his shit completely with a straight face.

--

Clark was busy shoving a strip of bacon in his mouth. “Uh-” He chewed and swallowed.

“Yeah. I like the sun on my skin when I get up.”

--

Oh. Okay. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, so he just--nodded and got his own piece or two of bacon.

And kept eating.

“...plans for today?”

--

Clark shrugged a little and put some ketchup on his eggs before breaking them up. “Dunno. Usually I hang out with Kenny ‘n Pete on my days off, but…” he glanced up at Bruce.

“Not feelin’ that anytime soon.”

…

“Thought about just… flyin’ around for awhile. Haven’t been able to do that in Gotham. But that’d leave you here unless you’re fine with coming.”

--

Bruce was ready to tell him he was fine with just reading a book for a while, but--

“...with coming along for flying?”

--

“Yeah. I’d carry you. Like, it’s fine if you’re scared though. It’s pretty weird. But figured it was impolite not to offer.” Clark said, pushing runny egg mess on his bread and eating it.

--

Bruce stared at him like he was crazy.

“Take me flying,” he said.

--

… Clark grinned with a mouthful of toast and a bit of ketchup on his lips. “O-kay.”

--

He was stupid and (buff, and Bruce wanted to lean over with a napkin and shove it on Clark’s lips to get rid of that dumb ketchup) absolutely intentionally being dense, because who didn’t want to fly, even if you had to be carried?

But instead, he said, “Shut up and eat faster,” and started shoveling his breakfast down in kind.

--

Clark grinned and did just that, shoveling his food down and eating toast and bacon before standing up and chugging his milk.

Shirtless.

He put the plate in the sink and wiped his mouth with his hand.

“Dress warm, it gets cold.”

--

Bruce felt something in his stomach flip, and he nodded, running back upstairs to tug on his winter boots and add on another layer and his heavy coat. Clark’s borrowed winter hat. His good gloves.

And he was ready.

--

Clark got dressed too and then met Bruce back downstairs a moment later. He opened the door out to the porch, stepped off the front step and… float there, spinning around as if in water to face Bruce with his hands in his pockets.

“Piggyback or in my arms?”

--

“Arms,” Bruce said, not wanting a piggyback--he was sixteen, not a kid, after all. It didn’t matter if Clark could carry him fine.

--

“Okay.”

Clark hovered close again and reached out, hand going around Bruce’s waist and pulling him close. He pressed himself against Bruce and locked his hands around the small of his back. Waited for Bruce to position his hands how he wanted.

… He might have been enjoying this a little too much.

“Ready?”

--

...somehow, Bruce didn’t realize he was going to be held like this in Clark’s arms. He knew they’d go around him, but--face to face, he guessed he hadn’t expected, and found his face close enough to smell Clark’s neck as he wrapped his arms around his shoulders securely.

Even through his heavy layers, he could feel Clark’s body, unusually warm against him.

Despite having just drunk orange juice, his mouth was dry. He told himself it was nerves.

“Ready.”

--

Clark smiled at him and then looked up.

And they started to rise, slow at first. Clark kept his grip firm and make sure Bruce didn’t slip, and soon they were over the roof of the the farmhouse. He started to fly away from it, legs angling as if to ‘push’ away from the farm.

Over the empty fields.

--

Once they were up in the air, Bruce… forgot.

He forgot about a lot of things. About how he was sort of uncomfortable being this close to anyone, or how he was fully clothed and Clark was half undressed in his PJs, or what was going on back home.

There was nothing under his feet. It was just-- a moment. A moment of disorientation, and realizing the air was cold and sharp with wind, and how empty the air was around him. That flying was just falling interrupted.

And Clark’s firm chest against his own was the only thing the world that felt stable at that moment.

He wanted to see the fields. The farmhouse. The long shadows, stretching over the yellow, frost-bitten fields.

But before that, before getting lost in wonder, staring-- he tightened his grip on Clark, and held himself close against him.

--

It was nice to be held so tightly by someone who wasn’t his mom or dad. He couldn’t even recall a time that had ever happened before. He kept people at an arm’s length for his own safety, and even when he did let them in there was still that fear of rejection. But last night Bruce had insisted and insisted that he wasn’t mad, that they were still friends, that it didn’t change anything.

When he got to the point he wanted and started to fly backwards gently, to really get in the whole view of the farm, he looked back down at Bruce with that award-winning smile.

“Whaddya think?”

--

“It’s big,” Bruce called back over the wind.

But he couldn’t… think of anything else to say about it. And maybe the new-day sun in his eyes said enough. The way it hit his ghost-pale face in the way it never could reach in Gotham.

There weren’t skyscrapers here. The long shadows ran only along the ground, far, far below them, cast by regular-sized objects, not buildings made by giants.

And the sky was in every direction he looked.

Big.

Blue.

Beauti--

--

Maybe looking back on this day when he was older would be when he said he started to love Bruce Wayne, but right now he still didn't quite realize it. Even as he looked down at the other boy rather than the scenery, watching how the light illuminated his pale skin and tired, sharp eyes. There was a fierceness to Bruce he had never seen from anyone else. Fierce and ironclad in everything he wanted to be.

“Yeah, it is.” Is all he said though, and would slowly continue to hover backwards, getting further away, then go a little left towards the trees that marked their property.

You could see the roads. The buildings in the distance. Cars driving along. Birds flew beside them a safe distance away.

And somehow Clark shined just like the sun, curls blowing in the wind and arms secure around Bruce's waist.

--

Bruce didn’t say much while they were up there, focusing on breathing in the cold wind and staring down at all the world below in a way he’d never really been able to before.

Not like this. Alone and secure, without airplane walls around him.

(Even if he wasn’t alone at all.)

...but Clark would still be able to hear his heart beat, strong and excited with the world below, pressed against his bare chest with just the coat between them.

...but Gothamite he might’ve been, Bruce still could only stand the cold against his face for so long before his cheeks started turning pink and windburnt.

--

Clark might not have been able to feel the cold like Bruce, but he could see it.

“Gonna start going down.” He warned, and did just that. A slow descent left and down…

… and they were back on the porch, feet touching down.

--

A little wobbly, Bruce pulled away once his feet touched the floor-- not because of anything bad, but because as soon as the wind wasn’t rushing him anymore, he realized he desperately had to wipe his nose, or it would drip out everywhere.

“Tissue,” he mumbled.

--

Clark was… a little hesitant to let go, but as soon as Bruce pulled away he let him go.

“... Oh! Yeah, c'mon.” Clark said, arm leading Bruce back inside.

There was a tissue box right by the door.

--

Bruce hid his nose in his face until he was able to get to the tissue box and snatch one out, blowing his nose.

“Danks,” he said.

--

“No problem. I forget that's a thing that happens.”

Clark's skin hadn't changed even a little.

Chalk that up to another power; resistance to cold.

--

Bruce noticed Clark’s immunity, but didn’t say anything about it really. He just focused on blowing his nose, and once he was done, rubbing his cheeks to warm them up again.

“...you never get sick or stuff, either?”

--

“Uh,” Clark began as he walked to the kitchen to make something warm for Bruce.

“Not since I was little. Mom says when I was a baby I struggled a lot. Like I couldn't breathe. But I don't really get cold anymore. I can't get burnt. Can stick my hand right in a fire and nothing. Can grab hot pans.”

“It's like--” he shrugged. “Invulnerability?”

--

...Bruce had honestly just been wondering if Clark was affected by bacteria at all, but… that was a lot more than he’d asked for.

“...not anything?”

--

It was nice to just… talk about it with someone. Sure his friends knew, but… they always asked him weird questions about it. Like if he looked at people naked.

“Well getting shot hurt, but other than something like that? Nope.” Clark put on some water for tea.

--

...Bruce didn’t question it, even if he did watch Clark a little longer, lingering.

...he realized now that he looked at Clark, that… he didn’t have any marks on his skin.

Not a mole. Not a freckle. Not a paper-thin scar.

And he’d been shot.

“...I can’t tell at all,” he said, maybe a little breathless, watching Clark’s back as he filled the water.

--

“Revolver hit me here--” he said, turning and pointing at his face. “Shotgun hit me here--” he pointed at his arm and chest.

“Gave me a black eye and broken nose and a lot of cuts. But they healed pretty fast. No scars or anything.” Clark shrugged. “Worst anyone's been able to do too me. I've fallen out of trees and moving cars and jumped out of two story windows and mostly been fine.”

He gave a sheepish smile.

--

Bruce found his arm going up to his neck, fist tight, and tried not to think about the hole that he’d seen punch through his mother.

He had scars on his arms right now. He had cuts healing right now. And Clark had jumped out of buildings and been shot and leapt out of moving cars--

“Why did you jump out of a moving car and a two story window??”

--

Clark laughed, “Well the car thing was I saw a dog and I was like… five. Really gave my folks gray hair for that one. And I jumped out of my bedroom window when they grounded me once and didn't quite have flying down yet. But I landed okay!” He gave Bruce a dumb grin and thumbs up.

--

Bruce buried his face in his hands.

--

Clark just laughed again and pulled the kettle off the stove to pour them both some tea.

“Genius alien from beyond the stars.” He joked.

“Really though I’m just…” he shrugged. “Just a kid on a farm who can’t get a date or pass his driving test, or… y’know.”

--

He didn’t know. But he nodded anyway.

“Yeah,” he said. And he wanted to say he was just normal, too.

But he could get a date, and wasn’t a farm kid, and could drive, just not legally.

…

“...wanna be lazy normal and just watch some TV?”

--

“Hell yeah.” Clark grinned and handed him his tea.

--

...the first day or two had been rough, but it grew easier with each passing day.

The Kents didn’t ask him about his family. They just… brought him to the table. Clark did alien things, and human things, and mostly reading-and-TV things.

They had a Christmas tree, and bit by bit presents appeared under it as the Christian Holiday grew closer. And, to Bruce’s relief, one such present arrived in the mail with a little bit of time to spare.

He’d been invited to Christmas parties before, but he’d never really celebrated with his family that he could remember--what he did remember was mixed up with Chanukah somewhat, with how young he’d been at the time. And though he was fairly sure the Kanes celebrated both, they only really invited him for things like Pesach and Sukkot.

So it was… the first time he’d really seen a family Christmas in person, rather than through every movie and pop culture magazine in the world.

...it was much quieter than he’d been led to believe, when the day finally did come, and he wondered, briefly, how the Kents had managed to tell Clark about a magical flying man in the sky when he was a child, or if they’d let him know Santa Claus was a fictional character to avoid accidental alien imprinting.

--

The day Christmas arrived there was a bit more of a set time to get up, but things still moved the same as they had been.

The sun rose and Jon tended to the cows, but then would be inside for the remainder of the day unlike his usual sparse appearances throughout. They made pancakes for breakfast and waited until everyone was sat around the table together to eat.

After breakfast was time for presents, a few under the tree for Clark, some for his parents, and…

Martha handed a little box to Bruce too.

--

...it was nice. It was still approximately like a regular day, which was a little strange, but it was nice. He ate the breakfast with his usual appreciation and followed to the livingroom around the tree once it was done, watching.

Bruce took the little box with a quiet ‘thank you,’ and smiled. Most of the gifts around the tree were for Clark, but that was fine.

...After a bit of confusion, Bruce had brought his presents down a day or two before. One for Jon. One for Martha.

Two for Clark--one of them being the little package that had arrived in the mail a few days earlier.

The first three presents Bruce had picked out while in Gotham, asked Alfred to purchase and wrap, and had brought them on the train himself on the way to Smallville.

He hoped they were fine.

...for Ms Kent, before knowing her name, he’d gotten a blue sapphire necklace with matching earrings. Not especially expensive, so it wouldn’t feel condescending or she couldn’t find things to wear them with. Not so cheap it looked bad coming from him.

For Jon, it’d been a little easier.

High quality black leather gloves with a matching sidebag.

… and for Clark, he’d… for the first present, he’d simply gotten him an autobiography of one of the muckrakers who’d lived through the mob wars of the 20s and 30s.

...it was the second present, in a much smaller box, that had Bruce anxious.

--

Jon and Martha kept insisting that he didn’t have to get them anything of course. They were very impressed by the gifts though, Jon giving a rather genuine smile and Martha leaning over to give him a hug in thanks.

Clark really liked the book too, and it actually took him a moment to put it down and pick up the second present that Bruce had given him.

“Another one?” He asked, a little surprised while pulling off the wrapping.

--

Bruce nodded and… looked down a little.

...inside the box, there were what looked to be hearing aids. Pale, thin, and mechanical.

“...they’re sound blockers,” he said softly. “...you said Gotham was too loud for you. And what you said about three miles, I figured…”

…

“You don’t have to use them.”

--

Clark clearly didn’t know what they were before Bruce said anything, but then the realization hit him.

“... Oh. Wow, Bruce.” He said, pulling them out. “That’s… really cool.”

“How do you put them on?” He asked, already trying.

--

Oh.

Bruce brightened a little, and shuffled closer, sliding until their knees knocked together.

“Here,” he said, taking the first one from Clark’s hand and brushing away his hair to get a good view of his ear.

He slid it in carefully, looping the hook that made it appear so much like a hearing aid over Clark’s ear.

“No one should question it, since it looks like a regular thing.”

--

Clark leaned in closer to help him and… maybe kinda stayed there a little longer just so he could be closer to Bruce while he helped put them in.

“This is really cool.” He said again, voice quiet.

“Finally gonna be able to sleep.” He laughed, a little joking and a little not.

--

Bruce smiled a little, glad Clark liked them so much. “They working?”

--

He went quiet and focused, a smile spreading over his face. “I can’t hear the cows.”

Martha looked like she might start crying.

--

Bruce grinned wide, something warm spreading through his chest.

“You like them?”

--

“Yeah. I really do.” Clark grinned.

…

He leaned over and pulled Bruce into a hug.

--

For a moment, Bruce was startled, freezing up in the sudden hold.

...then, he leaned into it, closing his eyes, and finding himself melting into the hold.

--

… Clark found he really didn’t want it to end, but… his parents were right there. So it had to. But while it lasted he held Bruce tight and whispered out another ‘thank you’ before pulling away.

“Wish you woulda had those when you were younger.” Martha smiled and Clark laughed.

“Yeah, really.”

--

Bruce smiled and edged away from Clark again, opening his own present quietly while the others talked.

...he felt a little better, now, knowing the gift was well received. That it wasn’t a bad idea.

...soon enough, though, January would come, and the hearing aids would be really put to the test as their return to Gotham grew closer.

--

Bruce’s gift was… less impressive, but…

“I know it ain’t your style, but…” Clark grinned.

It was a baseball cap.

A baseball cap with ‘SMALLVILLE’ embroidered across it.

“Least it’s somethin’ to remember us by.” Jon chuckled.

--

Bruce sighed deeply, eyes rolling up to the ceiling, and flipped the hat up to destroy his hair style by putting it on.

“You know what, Kent,” he said. “At least it’s not John Deere.”

--

Clark grinned and roped his arm around Bruce to give him a side-hug.

…

January would come eventually though, that was for sure. Clark would hug and kiss his parents goodbye and they would tell Bruce they loved having him, to come back any time. He was always welcome in their house.

Then it was a bus ride back to Gotham and Clark definitely packed his new hearing aids.

--

...he wasn’t sure why he was the one struggling to not get emotional once the Kents drove away, and he found himself in the bus seat, staring at the seat in front of him.

...but he was. For the first few minutes as the bus pulled out of the station, Bruce just… curled up in his seat and worked to keep his breathing steady.

And they headed back to Gotham.

…

He wouldn’t wear his ‘Smallville’ cap with him as they reached their destination late the next day, though. He’d return to the borrowed snow cap, and hide the ‘smallville’ one deep in his bag so that it couldn’t be seen.

...and as they returned to the dorms, he had a weight of dread in his chest that he wasn’t unused to, but…

It hadn’t been there the last two weeks.

And knowing Clark could hear his heartbeat just made him more anxious, now, about keeping secrets.

[chilling-in-the-dark]

The Batboys Growing Up as Yanderes Part 1: Bruce Wayne

This is a yandere story; it mentions elements of death, murder, stalking, kidnapping and unhealthy obsession. If any of this is triggering for you, I understand, and you don’t have to read it.

As always feedback is welcome.

Something broke in Bruce the night his parents died, and it only got worse as he grew older. It started with Bruce becoming afraid that everyone he loved would leave him. Even you, the girl he’d known for as long as he could remember. As time passed, that fear would lead to an all-consuming need to keep you by his side.

Alfred had tried to tell himself that this was normal, Bruce had just lost the two most important people in his life, and that he would grow out of it once he realized you weren’t going anywhere.

Alfred had never been more wrong. Once he realized that the changes in the boy were permanent, he was left with a choice. He could continue to be willfully ignorant, or he could accept that the young master wasn’t entirely sane and do his best to help him not get caught.

Alfred loved Bruce like he was his own, so he chose the latter.

As time wore on and Bruce’s feelings for you became more romantic than platonic things got worse. Bruce was always convinced that someone would try to take you from him, that you were going to leave him behind in the dust, or that you’d end up dead like his parents.

It didn’t matter that you were from one of Gotham’s more destitute neighborhoods and could only afford to survive because Bruce started paying your bills when the power was cut while your dad lay strung out on the worn old sofa.

Nor did it matter that you were only able to attend Gotham Academy because he paid for it. Bruce knew the world would try and take you from him one way or another, but he wouldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t let that happen.

So he subtly sabotaged your grades so that they were barely good enough to keep you in the prestigious school, really the only reason he paid the tuition was that he liked to keep you close; you wouldn’t need a college education or a job. After all, he’d take care of you.

The dark parts of his brain kept whispering to him that you couldn’t leave if you weren’t able to look out for yourself, it didn’t matter if you could anyways, that’s he was there for. What good was being a billionaire if you couldn’t use that money to make sure that the girl you loved was safe and well kept?

Bruce thought one of the other kids was going to realize that you were everything good about the world concentrated into its purest form, and they were going to take you from him. It didn’t matter how many times Alfred tried to convince him it wasn’t true, that even if they did try and win you over, you’d never just abandon him.

Bruce’s possessiveness came to a head when you were fifteen, one of the kids from school wanted to take you out on a date and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Bruce pulled you in and kissed you fervently right there in the middle of the hallway. It was a statement you were his, and no one was going to take you from him.

When the kid who was hitting on you was found stabbed to death behind a bar that was known for overlooking age if you paid well enough, who would suspect Bruce Wayne, after all, he’d gotten the girl. Even if someone did think Bruce did it, what evidence could they find when the culprit dumped the knife in the river and burned everything else.

It wasn’t even a year after you first kissed that Bruce proposed, he’d done it on your sixteenth birthday. It started out with diner at the manor, he’d made sure to have the whole nine yards ready, candles, music, and a spread of your favorite foods. When he got down on one knee didn’t even hesitate when you said yes. Little did you know that you were celebrating when you should have been running because once that ring was on your finger, there was no going back; you were going to be Mrs. Wayne for the rest of your life, whether you liked it or not. 

The ring had been in the Wayne family since they founded Gotham, students and teachers alike knew that ring, because it meant that the person who owned it would have a level of power and prestige only a Wayne could achieve.

Suddenly teachers were a lot nicer to you, and the students who used to hiss at you over your lack of wealth wanted to be your friend. You weren’t stupid enough to fall for any of it; they just wanted to be your buddy because when you and Bruce got married, it would give you a level of influence only a Wayne could achieve.

Bruce hadn’t planned on you freezing everyone besides him out, but he can’t say that he’s too terribly upset by it. It just makes it easier for him to keep you for himself.

Bruce’s protective traits don’t surface until several weeks after the engagement, he gets a call from your father’s loan shark demanding ransom money. Apparently, dear old dad traded you in exchange for his debts being forgiven. The fiancée of Bruce Wayne would fetch a lot of cash; even more then the twenty-grand, her father was in debt.

Bruce wasn’t Batman yet; he knew he wouldn’t be able to take out an entire crew of crooks. So, he called the one man in the GCPD he knew he could trust, Detective James Gordon. Gordon came up with a plan to get you out safely. If it wasn’t for him, Bruce wasn’t even sure if he’d have gotten you back alive.

That moment is what sealed his fate as Batman, sure he’d been toying with the idea before, but now he knew that he’d have to make Gotham a safer place for you and everyone else who lived in it. Only there was something he needed to do first.

Sure, Bruce wanted to give you the big fancy wedding you deserved, but that would have to wait until he got back. Right then, he only wanted to ensure that you had unhindered access to the Wayne fortune while he was away so that you wouldn’t go without, Bruce also knew it would make it harder for you to leave him if the distance got too much for you to take.

It hadn’t taken much convincing from Bruce to get your dad to agree to sign the papers after all the man owed him big time, because your ransom had nearly been three times your dad’s debt. It had taken even less persuasion to get your dad to stay in Vegas after the wedding, Bruce didn’t want him anywhere near you.

It was only about a month after the wedding that Bruce left Gotham, though over the nine years he was gone, he never failed to send a letter each month. Sometimes they’d come with a gift, a dress from Paris, a jade hairpin from china, a painting from Venice, among other things.

When Bruce decided that it was time to come home he surprised you by coming back on your anniversary, he called Alfred as soon as he landed in Gotham and asking him to pick up a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and to make sure dinner was perfect.

Bruce may have not been ready for Gotham to know that he was back yet, but he’d been away from you for nine years, far too long.

You flew across the room and in his arms in a heartbeat when he walked into the manor. He’d gotten taller while he was away, broader two. It was almost impossible to believe that he was the same person who’d left Gotham nine years ago, but it was him, you’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

You realized he’d left as a boy, but he’d come back a man. The thought of how many years you’d lost brought tears to your eyes. Bruce gripped you tighter as you fought back your tears, the years had been lonely for you, but for him, they’d been agony, now that you were back in his arms he wasn’t ever going to let you go again.

It hadn’t taken you long after his return to realize Bruce was no longer the boy you’d fallen in love with, he was less open about his feelings with you and distant. You’d also changed over the near-decade the two of you had been apart. You realized how unhealthy it was for Bruce to want to know where you were at twenty-four-seven, or that he wanted to control who you talked to.

When you were younger, you brushed these off as him just wanting to keep you safe, but now you understood that something was seriously wrong with your husband. The final straw was when you’d found out he’d been stalking you over the bat-computer. He’d investigated every aspect of your life from when he was gone

You packed your bags and tried to make your way out of Gotham, maybe even to leave the country, but you hadn’t even made it off the manor’s grounds. There was a sharp sensation on the back of your neck, and before you knew it, Bruce had caught your falling body in his arms.

Bruce had been afraid this day would come, and always he’d been prepared for it. There was a room in Wayne manor that he’d have to keep you in until you realized that staying with him would be the best thing for you.

Bruce held you to his chest as he walked to the room. He wasn’t sure if he was more angry or sad about you trying to leave him, but that didn’t matter, you were his wife, and he wasn’t going to let you go. Not now, not ever.

He hoped that in time you’d understand that it’d be better, you’d be safe, and Bruce would make sure that you were well cared for, heck all you had to do was ask for it and he’d give you the world. The only thing he wouldn’t do was let you leave him. You were his wife, and it was going to stay that way until he drew his last breath.

Tags:

@yanderepeterparker

@idkmanicantenglish​

[dibs4ever]

Gone

Barbara stared at the test in her hands ”Crap” she mumbled to herself, she bit her lip. The past couple days she’d been feeling uneasy and then counted up her days and realized she was late. So while her husband was at work she decided to take a test without him knowing.

He always wanted 3 kids

She was comfortable with one.

So they settled on a median of 2, which she was thankful for because she wouldnt trade their daughter for anything.

“Looks like you got your way Boy Wonder.” She sighed leaning back against the bathtub from where she sat on the master bathroom floor.

There was a tiny knock at the door “Mama?” Came the voice of her first born

“I’ll be out in a second sweetie, is your sister awake?” She questioned through the door

He replied a second later “No, she’s sleeping. Mama are you okay?”

Barbara smiled. He was so kind, she couldn’t ask for a sweeter little boy. Next week he would be 3.

Her eyes widened as realization dawned on her.

She had a 3 year old and a 4 month old.

She was pregnant again, how far along she didn’t yet know but she couldn’t imagine she was too far along

How would she ever be Batgirl again? She’d just gotten back into the rhythm of the business after their daughter

Taking a deep breath she stood and hid the test before stepping out

“Mommy!” Her son smiled, his bright blue eyes gleaming up at her

Barbara grinned and scooped up the young boy “Hello sweetness” she kissed his cheek “Wanna go make lunch before the baby wakes up?”

Nathan nodded “Yes mommy” he hugged her neck “I love you mommy.”

Barbara smiled as she carried him to the kitchen. Perhaps having a third Grayson baby wasn’t so bad. After all they did make really cute kids.

A few days later Barbara was prepared to tell Dick the news

That was until Joker took over the city, using mind control turning thousands of people into mind controlled goons.

It was bad. They weren’t just in Gotham. They were in Star City, Central City and now Bludhaven.

A phone call came from Dick- who was currently working as Nightwing.

He called her on her personal phone. Something never done before “Babs, We need you. The goons are everywhere, the family is all out fighting.” She heard a grunt her heart skipping a beat till his voice returned several seconds later “Hide the kids, you’ll never make it to the Manor in time to drop them off with Alfred. They could use your help in Central City”

Barbara bit her lip “But Dick-“

“Babs, I’m in Bludhaven I promise I won’t let them get to our babies. Okay?” He pleaded

She couldn’t tell him now, besides, she’d patrolled with Nathan the first 10 weeks of her pregnancy. Due to not knowing she was pregnant.

One night wouldn’t hurt right?

She could hear sirens in the distance. They lived in a well secured gated community but was it anything against jokers goons?

She looked over at her son, lounging on the couch innocently watching a cartoon. Her daughter in the bouncer kicking her legs. Happy because she had just been fed and her little stomach was full.

She walked into the living room and picked up the bouncer with her daughter still in it, “Nay Nay, follow mommy please.” She instructed, turning off the television set.

Nathan tilted his head but followed her anyways

She lead him into her and Dick’s bedroom. She pulled things out of her large closet “Mommy has to go somewhere.” She informed Setting the bouncer down in the back of the closet. Little Leah smiled up at her. Barbara bent down and smoothed her fuzzy red hair with her fingers

Nathan stepped into the closet “Where you goin?” The almost 3 year old asked

“Mommy has to help daddy and Grampie with something. But I don’t have time to take you to grandfather .” She said running a hand along her sons cheek “You get to stay here with your baby sister. Listen to me.” She held his face to ensure she had his full attention “You and Leah are staying in here. Mommy is going to lock the door. Whatever you hear don’t leave and try not to make any noise. Okay?”

Nathan nodded “I be bwave mama” he whispered

She smiled and kissed his forehead. She picked him up, setting him down againest the back wall and moved the baby bouncer beside him. Barbara leaned down kissing her daughters cheek. Looking her over taking in every inch of her tiny 4 month body. The little fuzzy blush pink sleeper she’d just dressed her in. Her blue eyes that she was sure were beginning to turned green. Dick’s nose and ears. Her red hair and lips.

Then she moved onto her son. Dressed in his Green Arrow pajama’s. His favorite super hero. Little did the boy know in less then 15 minutes his mom would be fighting along side him.

His long raven hair, bright blue eyes. Her nose and ears along with a splash of freckles along his cheekbones . Dick’s lips.

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “I love you both so much .” She told him before standing and backing out.

Barbara pushed a wardrobe up against the closet door, barricading the two kids inside while also hiding the door from view . The house had a central sprinkler system so a fire was the least of her worries.

She suited up and then went out. Praying everything would turn out fine

Six hours later Dick rushed into the clinic “Where is she.” He demanded

Leslie and Dinah both ran along side him “She’s lost a lot of blood.” Dinah said

Leslie nodded “She is very weak and drowsy”

He stopped and turned toward the two women “Take me to my wife now.”

The both gulped...Dick had actually admitted a small bit of fear in the two women something hard to do.

Dinah nodded “Come.” She waved

Dick entered the room and swallowed upon seeing the love his life looking so helpless lied up in the hospital bed. She’d been stabbed in her arm and almost bled out. Had it not been for Ollie’s basic medical training that saved her

“Her arm will be fine. It’ll make a full recovery. But...” she paused “The other bleeding ontop of the arm is what added to the substantial blood loss.”

He paused “What other blood loss?”

Dinah then realized he didn’t know “Barbara was pregnant. Not very far along 6 weeks at most....she lost the baby.-we haven’t told her yet.”

Dick’s heart sank. They’d made another baby. Another product of their love. And now just like that it was gone?

“Can we be alone?” He asked looking at his sleeping wife

Dinah nodded and exited the room

Dick approached the bed, sitting in a nearby chair. He was sore and probably had a few injuries he should be getting checked out himself but they could wait

He grabbed her hand in both of his. Bringing it to his lips he placed a soft kiss to the top of her hand.

Slowly Barbara stirred awake

“Hey beautiful.” He whispered

Her eyes were only had open “Dick, you’re okay.” A smile played on her lips. Which were now a pale pink

He nodded

“Kids?” She said, her voice a sleepy rasp

“As soon as we got the mind control turned off I ran to the house. They’re fine. Nate had Leah in his lap and she was sleeping. He told me he was protecting her” Dick grinned down at his childhood best friend as he softly brushed away the hair in her face.

He watched as her left hand slowly inched toward her belly “I’m so sorry Dick.”

Dick furrowed his eyebrows “For what Love?”

She closed her eyes “The baby, it’s gone.”

She knew, of course she knew it was Barbara. Tears were welling her eyes. As much as she didn’t plan for another child the idea of having a third baby with Dick was starting to excite her.

He leaned forward and hugged her to his chest “Barbara it’s okay.” He turned his head and kissed her temple “You did nothing wrong. “

She shook her head in his shoulder “They were beating my abdomen after stabbing my shoulder. Green Arrow came over and stopped them but it was too late. I knew the baby was gone”

He nodded “Its alright Babs. We have two beautiful children at home. They are safe because of your quick thinking.” He kissed her cheek and pulled back to look at her “You’re okay I’m okay. Yes we lost the baby. Yes I’m heartbroken as I know you are but we have each other.”

She smiled “I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you”

He nodded “Neither do I.

[jinmukangwrites]

i'm not a big fan of DC, but I have a general knowledge of it. Perhaps something to do with some some family bonding with the bat family? it doesn't have to be fluffy, but it would be nice to see that something nice is happening to this found family of people, even if it's small. good luck and may you have success and fortune in your future!

So this ended up not being a drabble. Oops. Listen, I've been wanting to write a camping-esque fic for a long time and somehow this just ended up being it. >.<

-o-o-o-o-

It is Dick's first camping trip.

He's young, bright eyed, and smiling like there's nothing to be down about even though Bruce knows they're both painfully aware it's only been a month since his world quite literally fell apart.

Bruce doesn't really know what he's doing, having not gone camping himself in what must be over a decade, but he still successfully sets up a decent tent large enough for four sleeping bags, but has more than enough room for two. Alfred is on a well deserved vacation, so there's no need to make room for a third one. It's just Bruce Wayne and his new ward Dick Grayson, alone in the wilderness with a bag of marshmallows open between the two of them and a campfire crackling in front of them. It's Dick that shows him how to roast the perfect "mallow", and that apparently involves shoving the entire marshmallow into the center of the flame and laughing maniacally until it blackens and chars. Bruce almost has a panic attack just watching Dick bring the flaming marshmallow out to his face to blow out the fire.

Bruce remembers the times he's watched people roast marshmallows in movies, and he decides holding it just above the worst of the flames until it's a golden brown is the way for him.

There's owls hooting softly around them when the moon reaches high enough to suggest maybe calling it a night. Another tell-tale sign is Dick ever so slowly leaning against his side, all bundled up in a warm oversized jacket; marshmallow, chocolate, and graham cracker residue dried to his lips and cheeks.

Bruce stares at watches for a moment, before smiling, something he thought he lost when he watched his parents die clinking back into place in his chest. Filling him with a warmth he never thought he'd ever have again.

He scoops Dick up and bundles him into his sleeping bag. Dick is out like a light, mouth open in soft snores, and Bruce frowns, a desire in him that he doesn't understand.

He pokes Dick's shoulder gently, making sure the child is asleep, and Bruce sucks in a lungful of air. Unsure and afraid. He runs his fingers through Dick's hair, lifting up his messy bangs, and slowly bends down and presses his lips against the child's forehead. He then backs quickly away, his heart pounding.

Dick was never supposed to be his son, but pretty early on Bruce discovered how much of a lie that was.

-o-o-o-o-

It's Jason's first time camping. His second time in the mountains as well.

Dick took him skiing for his first time, but Bruce at least gets to take him for his first night out in the fresh wilderness of the Appalachian mountains. Just the two of them this time, being as Dick is still angry with him. And while that hurts, Bruce is content with spending some much needed one on one time with his newest adopted son. (Because he knows now he made a mistake keeping Dick away at arms length with the word "ward", and now it's too late to take it back. He won't make the same mistake with this one).

Jason seems more concerned with running around and climbing trees than eating marshmallows. Surprisingly, more concerned than Dick was. Though that doesn't mean he still doesn't enjoy a marshmallow here and there, especially since a new kind has come out recently that makes the marshmallows even bigger and puffier when roasted over the fire. Good for nothing but sugar. Not that Bruce minds. He can't remember the last time Jason looked so relaxed as he stands and watches Jason marvel at a waterfall they've hiked to. If it earns that kind of wide eyed unashamed smile, Bruce would gladly invest in the company making even bigger marshmallows.

Bruce finds quickly that Jason also thinks Bruce makes marshmallows wrong. He knows this because as stuck the sugary monstrosity on his roasting stick and gently held it above the fire, Jason cried out in outrage.

"You're making it wrong!" He yelled as he grabbed Bruce's arm and dragged it away from the fire. Bruce is almost afraid that he'll demonstrate how to make a proper smore by shoving the whole thing into the middle of the fire to blacken it like Dick does. He doesn't want to know what kind of mess a marshmallow this size would make on fire, but the Jason shocks him by rushing into the tent and stumbling out a moment later with a colorful bag in his hands.

Starbursts?

"Where did you get those?" Bruce asks, trying not to sound amused that Jason snuck candy with him out on the trip.

Jason snorts, opening the bag and pulling out a pink square. "I asked Alfie to get me some, because I knew you'd be uncultured in making a freaking smore."

Jason then impales the unwrapped pink starburst on the roasting stick next to Bruce's waiting marshmallow. He unwraps a yellow one and puts it on his own stick. "The red ones are gross, by the way," Jason says, sticking his stick above the fire. Bruce huffs out a small laugh and puts his stick over the fire as well.

He's not sure what he feels about the taste of roasted starburst mixing with the marshmallow, chocolate, and cracker, but Jason eats enough to gain a stomach ache.

Bruce carries him to bed too, and tucks him in, and instead of waiting for him to fall asleep, Bruce carefully pulls Jason closer to his chest, and because his arms are full of legs and arms, he kisses Jason's forehead with a layer of hair between them.

Jason doesn't pull away. Just yawns happily, and falls asleep in Bruce's arms.

Bruce decides that camping trips for Jason is definitely a thing he needs to make a regular thing. Just to see his boy look so peaceful and happy in his arms.

-o-o-o-o-

It's not Tim's first time camping. But Bruce suspects it's the first time Tim actually has fun camping, as well as his first time making smores.

Dick's here this time too, the relationship between him and Bruce held together by paperclips and string. Which is saying something, as it used to be held together by nothing at all. Bruce is just happy that he's here and that they're civil enough with each other to let Tim be a disgusting, dirty, rowdy child in the mountains for the first time in his entire life.

Tim stood at the edge of the river, but ended up being shoved in by Dick, and they both came back sopping wet and laughing.

Tim picked at the bark of a large tree, but ended up in its highest branches when Bruce lifted him over his shoulders to give him a headstart.

Tim frowned at the marshmallow bag and sticks, but ended up with a mess all over his face, pupils wide in the firelight as the sugar gave him a rush.

Bruce roastes his above the flame and Dick tries to convince Tim that sticking the entire thing into the fire is the only right way to roast a good marshmallow. When Tim looks unsure and tries both with uncertainty, Bruce takes a chance and pulls out a bag of starbursts he almost decided to leave behind.

And once Tim tries the roasted starburst s'more, the rest of the s'more actually goes forgotten as Tim decides roasted starbursts is best left left alone—he snacks on almost the entirety of the bag, and Bruce tries his best to not let the stabbing in his heart ruin the moment. He wonders how well Jason and Tim would get along if Jason... But he shakes his head, choosing instead to point out the glowing little light in the forest that isn't the stars.

It's not Tim's first time seeing fireflies. But it's his first time running through the trees with a jar, holes poked into the top to capture them.

When it gets so late that even Bruce is beginning to yawn, he corrals his oldest and unofficial youngest into the tent and frowns at how even though the packaging said it's big enough for four people, it's still quite squeezed together with two grown men and a lanky young teen.

Bruce ruffles Tim's hair, squeezed Dick's shoulder, and for once Dick doesn't flinch at his touch. Just smiles and kisses Tim's forehead. Bruce is almost tempted to copy the action, the night feeling wrong without it, but Tim has parents.

Tim isn't his son. Isn't even his ward. He hugs Tim, and finds himself hugging him tightly, only letting go when Tim voices slight confusion.

They lay down in their spots, the silence of the world being interrupted once as Tim verbally complains about Dick's feet finding themselves under his legs.

"But you're so warm, baby bird!"

The sound of Tim's laughter is something Bruce wishes he had been quick enough to record, so he could listen to it over and over and over again.

Tim's not Bruce's ward. Or son.

But it's so easy to selfishly wish he were.

-o-o-o-o-

It's not Cass's first time camping. But it's her first time camping for something other than survival. Which means it's definitely her first time making s'mores.

Taking her out to the woods is nerve-wracking in a way that it shouldn't be. She's his daughter. Officially. Legally. Not by blood. Bruce doesn't have anyone who's by blood. But she's definitely the closest thing to it in his heart. She's different from the boys. He doesn't know what to expect from her.

She doesn't go out and get all gross and muddy in the river with Tim, and she doesn't take up Dick's bet to climb to the top of the waterfall. Instead, Bruce finds her sitting nearby with a notebook in her hands, her hand scribbling away at something with a pen. She looks up at him and smiles, but closes the notebook and sets it off to the side, patting the ground next to her. He takes her up on her invitation and sits down besides her, their shoulders gently touching. He glances at the notebook, raising an inquisitive eyebrow, but she just smiles and shakes her head. He doesn't pry. She didn't grow up with a whole lot of privacy, and Bruce isn't about to take some away from her.

She sighs and leans back into the soft grass patch she found, and he lays back too, shoulders still touching. They're silent for a long time, the only noises around them being the leaves rustling and the distant sounds of Tim and Dick trying to figure out how to lash a rope around a tree near the river so they could swing into it.

Bruce finds himself, not for the first time, missing Jason more than ever. Jason is alive. He's back. But he hates Bruce and wants nothing to do with Bruce. Jason would be all over getting that rope swing to work. Bruce can practically imagine his young voice screaming in excitement as he launches himself into the water.

He forces those thoughts away, because this isn't about Jason right now. This is about the beautiful, perfect young lady laying besides him. His daughter. He looks over at her, and her eyes are closed and her lips turned up in a slight smile. Her bare toes wiggling in the breeze.

And Bruce thinks that maybe it's a good thing Cass isn't out and about causing trouble and getting dirty, because maybe to her that's not what this trip is about. Maybe it's just about showing her that she can sit back, close her eyes, and wiggle her toes in the breeze and be safe without having to feel obligated to do anything.

Because she is safe. And Bruce will never let anything hurt her.

When they roast marshmallows, she watched with amusement as Dick interrupts Bruce showing her the normal way to do it by shoving his own into the flames. She watches as Tim shows her how to carefully make a roasted starburst that isn't too stuff nor too drippy. She watches as Bruce suggests making a s'more with a starburst. And she tries them all, a frown on her lips the entire time. When no strategy seems to stick out to her, Bruce almost panics, not sure how to make the night fun and full of sugar like he wants to, but then she pops a raw marshmallow into her mouth with a curious tilt to her head, and then a chunk of raw chocolate, and then a bite of plain cracker.

She then quickly gains her own stash of untouched s'more supplies and her roasting stick goes forgotten. Bruce doesn't know what's so much better about eating the ingredients raw, but the sound of her muffled laughter behind a mouthful of marshmallow and chocolate as Dick struggles to blow out a flaming one is definitely something Bruce will not complain about or try to change.

Going to bed is a hassle. He brought two tents this time, just in case Cass wanted to sleep alone, and at first he thinks that is actually what will happen. He hugs her before they go their seperate ways, the urge to kiss her round cheeks stronger than ever, but he doesn't get the chance. Or the courage.

But he finds he didn't need to worry, because when he, Tim, and Dick are all snug in their bags, the zipper of their tent goes down and Bruce has the air knocked out of him as Cass collapses on top of him, wrapped up in a fluffy pink blanket that she bought with Barbara. Bruce finds himself grinning as he shifts to make room for her between him and the snoring Dick, careful to not nudge the half asleep Tim too much whose under his arm on the other side.

Then, when Cass is nestled in his side, she does another thing that pleasantly surprised him. She presses her lips to his temple.

And Bruce falls asleep that night not knowing what he's done to deserve Cassandra Wayne.

-o-o-o-o-

It's not Damian's first time camping. It's not his first time making s'mores. It's not even his first time having fun while camping.

Bruce was thought to be dead for almost a year, and Dick was the one who got the honor of doing those first things with Damian.

But dammit, Bruce was going to try and do this with Damian anyway, even if Damian is quiet and unsure and distrustful with Bruce.

So maybe that's why Bruce thought it was so important for it to be just him and Damian this time. Maybe this is why he didn't ask Dick how Damian liked to roast his marshmallows, or ask Alfred if he needed to bring an emergency bag of starbursts, or even considered bringing a second tent just in case Damian wanted to sleep alone.

Bruce is Damian's father. His biological one. But he doesn't feel like it.

He wants to feel like it.

He woke Damian up at the spur of the moment and coaxed the boy into the car stuffed with a weakened supply of things to get them through a surprise camping trip. Damian was too groggy in the morning to ask much questions, blinking fully awake an hour into the drive and asking with a quiet voice where they were going.

And when Bruce answered they were going to camp, Damian didn't respond with joy or excitement. Just a quiet oh that almost made Bruce pull over the car and beg Damian to let Bruce in and let him see what he's thinking.

He keeps driving, all the way until he's at the normal spot by the river and a trailhead that leads to a waterfall. Damian walks the grounds quietly as Bruce sets up the tent, his footsteps sure and curiosity lacking. He's been here before. To Bruce's perfect camping spot.

And Bruce wasn't there.

The rest of the day goes about as well as could be expected. Damian hardly says anything to Bruce, the words he does say are tense and tight, like the very thought of saying any unnecessary words to Bruce is painful. Bruce tries not to take it to heart, so he continues onward. He takes Damian hiking, he takes him to the river, and eventually they both end up at the campfire in uncomfortable silence.

Bruce watches as Damian puts the marshmallow on his stick and holds it slightly above the flames, waiting patiently for the flames to lick the white sugar golden.

Bruce sighs and risks a joke. "Finally, a son that makes s'mores normally."

He didn't expect Damian to stand up with anger in his eyes before tossing the stick down and running off into the forest. The marshmallow left forgotten as it bursts into flames in the coals.

Bruce only hesitates a second before standing up and running after his son.

Because even if he's terrified Damian wants nothing to do with him, Bruce still wants to make sure he doesn't get himself hurt in the woods.

He eventually finds Damian sitting in Cass's spot. That perfect patch of grass that's perfect for laying down in and cloud gazing. Or, this late at night, perfect for milky-way gazing.

Damian isn't looking up at the stars though. He's curled up and glaring at his feet, something suspiciously wet trailing down his cheeks.

Bruce takes in a breath, hoping bravery would enter his lungs as well, and sits down next to his son.

They're silent next to each other, for a long time, until Damian finally decides to speak up.

"You came," he says, and Bruce wants desperately to launch himself forward and wrap the boy I'm a strong embrace. "You followed me."

"I will always find you," Bruce says, and Damian sniffs.

"If... If I wasn't your kid... Would you still..."

And Bruce remembers that Damian grew up being told he was simply a tool. That he had a purpose and he was only wanted because of that purpose.

He's asking Bruce if Bruce would have still wanted him, even if their blood wasn't the same. If Bruce had no obligation to take him in and give him safety and allow him to be the second half of the dynamic duo.

Or if he would have turned the boy away.

It breaks Bruce's heart.

So he slowly reaches around Damian and pulls him closer tightly. Damian sniffles and practically launches himself into Bruce's lap, arms curling around so small that it's not a complete hug, but it's tight enough to be one of the best kinds of hugs.

"I will always want you, Damian," Bruce whispers into his hair, pressing his lips onto his forehead before he can even consider the action. "You have no need to worry. I want you more than anything in this entire world."

And they sit there, holding each other, and Bruce wonders if this is what his own parents felt for him.

And if they'd be proud of him.

Bruce carries Damian to bed after they've both let out their emotions, and even though tent is large enough to have space, he keeps Damian with him, in his arms even as he climbs into his sleeping bag.

And he's never letting go.

-o-o-o-o-

It's nowhere near Duke's first time camping, or making s'mores, or having fun, or feeling safe. But it is his first time camping with Bruce and the rest of the family.

Dick, Tim, Cass, Damian, and even Jason are all here, and Bruce won't lie and say he didn't find it amusing how intimidated Duke needlessly felt to be on a family camping trip with everyone.

It's the loudest trip Bruce had ever been apart of. The children are back to figuring out that pesky rope swing—Tim snuck a grapple hook and had the decency to look a little ashamed when Bruce noticed it—and Cass is at her normal spot with her normal notebook. Duke looks unsure and nervous, not really knowing where he fits in with all of this.

Bruce adopted most of his children when they were all young, Cass being the exception but it wasn't like she had a good experience with her last parents, so it was almost like adopting her young. But Duke is different, he's a teenager, considering college and everything. He already knows how to drive a car. He'd already had loving parents. Bruce doesn't want to step in front of that, but he still wants Duke to feel welcome and loved.

One of Bruce's favorite things in the entire world is to watch Duke slowly exit his shell that he crawls into whenever he's nervous or feeling like he's imposing. The smirk on his face that appears when Dick calls him a genius for finally being the one to figure out the rope swing. The bubbling and nervous laughter when Jason slams a hand proudly at his back when he beats the rest of the family up the waterfall in their annual race. The excited chatter when Tim shows him the best climbing tree. The relaxed posture when Cass shows him something in her notebook, and the happy smile when Cass takes his feedback in consideration. The mischievous glint in his eyes when he and Damian get into a competitive spar with pool noodles.

Bruce finds his chest so full with warmth he almost thinks it's going to burst as eventually they all end up around the campfire with roasting sticks in everyone's hands except for Cass who has her own stash of s'more supplies. Jason and Tim fight over the bag of starbursts even though Bruce was sure he brought two. Dick laughs as Damian yells angrily about his flaming marshmallow catching Damian's on fire. Cass munches on a cracker and leans into Bruce's side. Duke sits besides them all, tongue sticking outside his mouth as he concentrates on making a marshmallow that isn't golden, but isn't completely raw.

No one bugs him on his strange "I don't want it burned at all!" comment, and they all include him in their jokes and bantering. The laughter becomes do loud that Bruce is sure the entire forest can hear them.

He relishes in it. Almost feeling like he might cry.

But he doesn't. The moon rises and be ushers the kids all towards that four person tent. It's too tiny, but nobody seems to care. Not even Jason who's only made one comment about Bruce being a billionaire who's definitely rich enough to afford a bigger tent.

Because, somehow, with or without Bruce, the family had ended up close and wanting to be close together. Dick doesn't complain as Cass lays herself on top of him. Tim only snarls a little when Jason jokingly stuffs his feet in the younger boys face. Damian crawls into Bruce's side like it's the most natural thing in the world. And Duke accepts the strong hug Bruce risks and gives him. Duke then lays down with his back against Bruce's free side and his legs on top of Jason, like a puzzle piece falling into place.

And the family all fall asleep to the sounds of nature surrounding them, and the soft snores of the people they all hold dear.

And Bruce thinks that taking in a kid who's just watched his family fall from the trapeze, a kid who tried to jack the batmobile, a kid who showed up with a camera in his hands and a demand to make him Robin, a kid who decided love and happiness was more important than the way she was taught and raised, a kid who decided he didn't want to be the weapon he was born to be, and a kid who only wanted to do good after his parents were torn away from him was without question the best thing Bruce had ever done.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

[excuseme-howdareyou]

Day 7: Nightmares | Time Travel | Mythology AU

........

"Bruce?" 

Dick's voice was tiny and quiet and barely more than a whisper. Still, Bruce rolled over in his bed and blinked sleepily at the small boy standing in his doorway. His blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, making the short preteen appear even smaller buried underneath the mass of fabric, and the nervous look on his face made Bruce's throat feel tight. 

Sitting up, Bruce rubbed the sleep from his eyes and chanced a glance at the clock. 4:27AM. "What is it, chum?" he asked.

Dick pulled the blanket tighter around himself. "I can't sleep," he admitted quietly. 

Not entirely unexpected. The Manor was still new to him; it was a far cry from the circus and no doubt-

"I... I had a nightmare."

-and oh.

Bruce swung his feet over the edge of the bed and beckoned Dick to come closer with his arm spread out in gesture for a hug. The 12 year old needed no other initiative and launched himself across the room. He was almost a teenager, but Bruce was still able to easily pick the lad up and settle him into a tight embrace. Gangly elbows and knobby knees curled up and Dick was almost lost in the swatch of blanket, but Bruce held onto him -blanket and all- with as much tightness as he dared. 

It had been two months since the death of the Graysons, one since coming here to the Manor. He did not have to ask to know what the nightmare was about. 

One little hand squirmed out of the blankets to grasp tightly onto the sleeve of Bruce's nightshirt. He did not let go after that and Bruce did not try to stop him. 

After all, Dick needed to be able to hold onto him to make sure he didn't fall too.

...........

The first time Bruce caught Jason in the middle of the night, he was standing on the kitchen counter in his bare feet, trying to reach the container of cocoa sitting on the top shelf. He was also cursing up a storm under his breath. ("Who the hell puts stuff up this high? Stupid tall people.")

"Late night snack, Jaylad?" Bruce asked with a smile and leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. 

Jason nearly fell off the counter in his surprise. "Bruce!" he whirled around, his hold on the cupboard door the only thing keeping him balanced in his haste," I was uhhh..." His eyes darted around the room nervously. Then his shoulders drooped in defeat. "Please don't tell Alfie I was standing on the counter."

Bruce couldn't help but grin. "It'll be our secret," he promised," Though I've learned it really is impossible to hide anything from Alfred. The man knows everything."

He and Jason had a running theory that Alfred could read their thoughts.

(It still hasn't been disproven, by the way.)

Recognizing that Jason still hadn't gotten his cocoa, Bruce walked forward and with his immense height easily reached up and grabbed the tin container. He handed it to a sheepish Jason, who jumped off the counter. 

"So," Bruce continued by getting two mugs out of the cupboard as well," Had a craving for hot chocolate?"

Jason had the container on the kitchen island and pried the lid off. "No, I uhh..." he frowned, even as he reached in and grabbed the measuring spoon inside," Couldn't sleep, ya know? Figured a hot drink might help."

The smile slid off Bruce's face. He knew what 'couldn't sleep' meant. 

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked. 

Jason looked like he was about to blurt out his thoughts, but then changed his mind as he dumped a spoonful of cocoa mix into each of the mugs. "Nothin' to talk about," he muttered sourly. 

Bruce knew from experience it was best not to press. 

Doesn't mean he wasn't going to stay in this kitchen for an hour, drinking hot chocolate with his son. And when Jason toddled off back to bed, he seemed... calmer, more at ease. And when he yawned, wide and tired and Bruce caught a glimpse of that chipped canine tooth, he couldn't help but tussle that head of messy hair. 

"Hey!" Jason protested.

"Goodnight, Jaylad," Bruce leaned down and pecked his lips on Jason's forehead," I'll be here in the morning when you wake up."

Judging by the smile on the boy's face, it was the right thing to say.

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

Tim wouldn't tell Bruce when he had a nightmare. But he had certain tells that if someone looked, they could tell he was having a restless night. 

It took Bruce an embarrasingly long time before he noticed it. He wanted to blame it on the fact that Tim lived across the street at his own house and so Bruce didn't see him after patrol was over. But even from the front steps of the Manor, it would've been obvious to see. And so it was actually Selina who brought it to his attention, one of her 'visits' to the Manor to see if she could rouse Bruce into a game of manor-tag. (Only this time she marched straight up to him and whacked him over the face with a sofa pillow)

"Go look outside your front window, you dense idiot," she frowned at him, then left for the night. 

And that's how Bruce found out that Tim climbs up onto his roof whenever he can't sleep. How long he's been doing it, he doesn't really know and Tim wasn't telling. But Bruce could recognize that look in his eyes; the empty stare as Tim sat on the peak of his roof and gazed -almost longingly- at the driveway leading away from his house. 

He didn't make a sound when Bruce sat down next to him, just glanced up then went back to staring at the road. Bruce wondered what he saw there. Or if... he was daydreaming about something he wished he saw there. 

"Nightmare?" he asked. 

"No more than usual," came Tim's reply and wasn't that just a stab in Bruce's heart?

"Wanna talk about it?" 

Tim shook his head. 

"Okay."

A few minutes passed before Bruce noticed that Tim was starting to droop. Whatever nightmares plagued him, exhaustion was still catching up to him. Without a word, Bruce reached over and tugged the teenager over into his side with one arm wrapped around his shoulders. Surprised but not fighting it, Tim tilted his head until it rested on Bruce's shoulder and yawned. 

"Whenever you're ready, we'll head back to the Manor," Bruce told him. 

Tim blinked up at him in confusion. "Really?" he asked," But I thought I had to be here in case Ms. Nefzger came early tomorrow?"

Ms. Nefzger, the housekeeper that only shows up every three days. Bruce felt a sweep of guilt that that was the reason why Tim was staying in this large house by himself; to keep up the ruse. "If it happens, then I'll deal with it," he said instead," Tonight, Alfred's got the guest room ready for you, then tomorrow you can chose which room you want for your own."

The smile Tim gave him reminded him so much of another boy with dark hair and blue eyes. "You mean it?"

"Yeah, Tim. I really mean it."

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

It was the small parade of animals down the hall that garnered his attention. 

First it was the damn turkey, leading the way with a ruffle of feathers. Then the click clack of Titus' claws on the hardwood floor, the sound preceeding the sight of his large head appearing. Through his open door way, Bruce then saw the shadow of his youngest son, right at Titus' side and holding Alfred the Cat in his arms, as the menagerie paraded past. 

Equal parts curious and concerned, Bruce rose from bed to follow after him. He supposed he was lucky that Batcow wasn't part of the proceedings. 

"Damian?"

Damian and his pets stopped. "Father?" Damian turned around, surprised to see Bruce standing right behind him. 

"What's wrong?" he asked, noting that his son was still in his pajamas and slippers," Is everything okay?"

Damian opened his mouth, hesitated as if he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. Then, with a scowl, he announced," Just doing a patrol of the house, Father."

It didn't take a genius to realize that probably wasn't what he was really doing. "Mmhmm," Bruce couldn't help but smile fondly at him, then guessed," Couldn't sleep?"

Somehow not expecting his bluff to be called, Damian froze at the implication that he'd been found out so soon. "I..." he blinked," Maybe?" He held unnaturally still, as if half expecting to be sent straight back to bed.

Bruce was enough of an old hat at this by now. "Yeah, me too sometimes," he reassured him. He reached out and laid one hand on his son's shoulder, wanting to give him a hug but not wanting to disturb the cat in his arms. "What can I do to help?" he asked. 

Damian stared at him in equal parts awe and confusion. "Umm," he fumbled for words," Well, sometimes... Richard would sit and watch Animal Planet with me?"

"You got it," Bruce smiled and gave his shoulder a squeeze before straightening up," Shall we get a snack first? How's hot chocolate sound?"

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

They were halfway through the 'Ice Worlds' episode of 'Planet Earth' when they were joined by a third person. "Rough night?" Jason whispered as he leaned over the back of the couch and saw Damian fast asleep snuggled between his father and Titus. Bruce had to tilt his head back to get a look at his second oldest and wondered when he'd come in. 

"He couldn't sleep," Bruce answered back just as quietly, not wanting to wake Damian," Everything alright? What are you doing still up?"

"I'm a grown man, Bruce, I don't need a bedtime," Jason scowled at him, but it didn't last long as Tim appeared at his side and lightly slapped him on the back of his head. 

"Stop getting so offended over everything," Tim scolded him, then turned to Bruce," He just finished his stakeout and came to harass me for my case notes."

Yeah, that sounded like Jason. 

Just then, Jason noticed the duo of cocoa mugs on the coffee table. "Hey, you had hot chocolate without me?" he pouted. 

Holding back a chuckle, Bruce told him," It's still in the same place as always, Jay." Then he couldn't help but grin," Need any help reaching it?"

The word Jason signed back at him would not be polite to repeat out loud. "Make me a cup too!" Tim whisper-shouted at his retreating back. 

"Ooh, I thought I heard David Attenborough," and all of a sudden there was Dick on the other end of the couch, munching on a granola bar he probably had stashed away in a pocket somewhere. (At this point, Bruce was over questioning where he came from)

"Just don't wake your brother," he whispered and got a pantomimed 'lips-locked' from his eldest. It was all in vain though, for as soon as Jason returned -with two cups of hot steaming cocoa- he shooed Titus off the couch so he could take his spot. The dog's movement woke Damian, who blinked sleepily at the troupe all around him. Finally, his eyes landed on Jason, who'd taken Titus' spot. 

"Todd," he grumbled, and the drawling way he spoke it told them he was only half awake. 

Jason smiled at him," Heya Baby Bat," then gestured at him with his open arm. A moment later, Damian leaned over in the opposite direction of Bruce and was soon fast asleep on Jason's shoulder. Bruce wanted to be jealous that Jason stole his cuddling time with Damian, but couldn't deny how adorable it was. 

(Dick thought the same thing, cooing at Jason and tried to hug his other arm, only to have Jason whisper-shout at him," Hey, don't spill my cocoa!")

A small form curled up on Bruce's other side and he looked down to see messy dark hair and sweet dark eyes. "Movie night?" Cass blinked up at him. 'Wasn't she at Barbara's tonight?' Bruce wondered, but gave up trying to guess. He was all too happy to wrap his arms around her shoulders (except where Tim was apparently using her as a pillow, cuddled up and sipping on his cocoa) and hold his only daughter tight. 

"Yeah, family movie night," Bruce whispered back. 

[hoodedwing]

Loyalty Killed Me

Summary: The Joker could finally do what he wanted to do, traumatize Nightwing

Characters: Nightwing. Harley Quinn. Joker. Mentions of Red Hood

Warnings: Just really sick ways of stitching people up. Blood. Depressive. Major character/s death mentions. Batman. Doctor Leslie Thompkins

Additional Notes: I know Joker cannot traumatize Grayson canon-wise? Please correct me if I’m wrong.

Word Count: 2,242 words

***

Time doesn't stop.

Time knows, in its hands. It plays around with the seconds. These seconds matter, someone dying, someone on the communicator whispering, ____ come get me. come get me, I can't go back.

Time doesn't freeze. Time does not have a cloak drapes around it in a timeless manner. Time does not walk in a regal manner and stroke your gaping wounds to cauterize them. Apply pressure because really, when did Time wait for you to stop the damned arterial spray? Have you seen first hand how much blood can spew, almost like a fountain from that serrated dagger?

Time has caught up with Dick Grayson, the Wonder Boy. The Nightwing Blüdhaven didn't deserve. The loving boyfriend/husband of Barbara Gordon. The first son of Bruce Wayne, Batman.

Batman. He doesn't know who's Batman. Not anymore.

-

3200..6400..12800..

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Remember, inhale slowly, inflate lungs. Let it circulate through. Let. Let it work.

Richard. That's your name. Your mother was beautiful and your father was handsome. You are a Grayson. You have brothers and sisters.

Pain.

Pain is relative. If you fuck with pain long enough, it won't fuck back with you. Pain spreads through him and he inhales deep, bigger breaths. Trying to drown out the searing ache. He succeeds, deceives his brain.

Dick Grayson is such a liar.

He knows how to lie, how to smile widely at the Blüdhaven precinct when shit goes down or still tell a joke or two when Damian is there.

Dick Grayson is such a liar.

He's a good man. Honest to goodness. He's fooled himself into thinking his left leg didn't feel on fire, he's successfully managed to stop gasping against the rattle of his chest, a rub or two might be the cause. Who knows?

BOY WONDER! SAD YOUR DEAREST BATMAN HASN'T COME TO SAVE YOU YET? WHY LOOK AT THAT.

Mistah J checks his watch and smiles, his crooked smile stares back at Richard.

Dick only looks away as the Joker's cold fingers run his slimy, skinny fingers along his body. He used to shiver under his touch in a bad way, he would gulp and squeeze his eyes shut, hunting for memories to dive into.

When he got Zitka. When his mother named him her Robin. When he went on patrol for the first time with the all mighty Batman. When he first met Jason. Then Tim. Then Damian. Then the nights they spent healing wounds, fighting together or just sleeping or Netflix.

Dick doesn't move, doesn't say a word. He doesn't even let out a humourless laugh or a quip. Dick clings onto a hope.

Batman. Come get me.

BOY WONDER IS STILL LIVING. WHY, THAT'S A JOY. COME OUT THERE LITTLE BLUE BIRD. YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN STAY IN THAT LITTLE BRAIN OF YOURS? WHEN YOU WAKE UP. THAT LEG WILL HURT. YOUR BLOOD WILL SPILL AGAIN ON THAT DARNED LITTLE CREST.

He doesn't care. The glorious speech does not make him flinch. He looks at the window, one thought crosses his cloudy vision.

Bruce (Dad), come get me.

LET'S HAVE SOME MORE FUN, SHALL WE. EVEN JAYBIRD PLAYED THIS GAME TOO. COME ON, HE HAD FUN. LET'S PLAY BLUE BIRD. BLUE JAY. HMM. I LIKE THAT.

-

Playtime.

Its always target practice. He would lie there and watch Harley swing her mallet here and there, sometimes too close to Dick and she would talk to him, so sweetly.

Aww, you wanna play too? Let's play together, shall we?

His face will clench up, his head will scream and suddenly everything is loud as Harley fires guns at targets and maybe shoot some arrows at Dick.

On lucky days, he's used as her gymnast prop.

I want to fly again. Batman I'm falling, please I'd like to fly again. My wings are clipping and I will rip. -

He falls asleep.

You can't call it sleeping. Dozing in and out of consciousness, he was neither awake or sleeping. A grey haze flittered across his vision. No sign of clarity. He still heard the rattle of his breath, the fire in his leg. The now warm abdomen.

He feels someone at his leg.

Harley Quinn was there, a sly smile as he feels a needle go in and out.

In and out. In and out.

In and out, in and out. You need to breathe Dick. In and out. In and out.

When he hears the door shut and a ricocheting silence, he peeks at his leg.

A sick suturing of his leg stabs with dental floss, a handiwork Harley was sure to boast later on. He doesn't care if it gets infected. What's the big deal? Batman will take care of it.

He turns over on his side to his communicator lay. The Nightwing emblem was shattered beyond measure. No matter, I can get a new one. The communication mattered.

He presses the distress signal again, again. Again. Bruce better get that flashing orange light and he should feel his bipolar touch in no time.

He tries to talk, voice hoarse from decreased usage and a rough sandpaper-like quality stuck to it.

"H..hello? Bruce. Dad. Please get me. I'm.. I'm waiting. Please."

He turns back in his side, curled up like an invited animal.

The rain pours, shadows keep coming in and out but none belong to his dad.

The boy asks the moon if Batman had lost his way. Asked if the moon could shine the light brighter at him so Dad can find him faster. He'll be okay, he'll be okay. Bruce might be lost, after all. There's a lot of streets and time isn't on anyone's side.

-

Two weeks go by.

Dick still finds himself bound by the ties and definitely no sign of the caped crusader.

Batman is surely coming.

That thought fades slowly, over the weeks. He's gotten more used to the Joker and the crowbar.

Is this how Jason felt, when he was in Hell?

Dick cannot remember. Dick only knows how the sound of metal and bones work, how the bullet will hit skin, pierce it through with frightening velocity and dull ache afterwards. The pool of blood will remind him that yes, I was shot.

A sick game of Russian Roulette. Instead of one bullet, there's multiple. A .44 magnum shouldn't hurt anymore. The revolver keeps spinning in his mind where acrobats should be. Where's Bruce. Where's dad. Am I forgotten?

Dick tried to remember how to breathe. Is it that hard? Just pulling in oxygen and letting the respiration mechanism do its work?

Distract thine self.

He tries to remember. Tries. He's trying. Nightwing has to do this. You need to at least remember your name. Your mother, your father. Dick. Dick.

Richard. That's your name. Your mother was beautiful but I don't know what her hair colour is, sometimes it's blonde or chestnut and your father was handsome.  You are a Grayson. You have brothers and sisters. Are they Jason? Tim? Da- I don't remember, I don't remember the tiny one. Is he even real? Your sisters too. Stephanie, Stephanie. I have one more, the sneaky one. She's fast but I don't know her name. I'd like to know her well too. Pity I. I don't know her name. I hope she knows my name. That way I can hear her voice and maybe figure out who is the charming one. I know she does ballet. I know she made brownies once with.. Who? I don't remember his name. The old man with cheery wrinkles and deep eyes. I don't know who he is too. Oh. Oh oh. Dick.

[DANGEROUS TO FALL ASLEEP, RICHARD JOHN 'DICK' GRAYSON. EYES. OPEN. EYES. OPEN. BREATHE. (MY LUNGS DON'T WORK)]

I'm begging someone, please. It doesn't have to be Bruce. Get the ballet girl to help me please, she fast and maybe I can ask her name while she gets me out of here.

-

Bruce never gives up.

You know that too, do you? He's spent 3 weeks finding his son. His beloved child.

Do you ever think how much Bruce's heart breaks over and over everyday?

-

"ALFRED?! CAN YOU GET JASON NOW, NOW, NOW?! I FIGURED HIS COORDINATES."

Bruce flips from the Batcomputer and grabs everything. A blind haste, he's never dressed so fast. His son. Oh my god, his son.

Jason is down there getting the Batmobile to rev up and they speed.

They speed.

Are they fast?

I guess. If you call 290 in 85 fast.

They run, Jason dashing first and his breath catches in his throat. A cold draught erupts inside of him. He snarls, Bruce turns as he digs through the alleyways. He finds what he knows lurks.

"The sick fucker is going to end Dick in the same fucking warehouse he ended me in. That big bitch.

Bruce puts one hand on his shoulder and squeezes. No time to panic, Dick is the one. is the unsaid message as Jason crashes through the window.

And even him, Red Hood. The one who sees and commits murder everyday, stops and hot anger sears through him.

Dick lies, barely 15 feet away, bound up and covered in his own blood, the ripped Nightwing suit from his recon mission. Bruce picks him up while Jason gladly punched (and secretly plugged a bullet) the fuck out of Mistah J and Harley.

They lie on unconscious, Jason evaluates the scenes, trying to suppress his screams at what they've done to Grayson.

Bruce picks up Dick like he's glass, he hurries to the Batmobile with Jason telling to prepare the Medbay.

"The Medbay.. I.. I don't think. Leslie. Leslie can."

Is all Bruce says and Jason revs up, driving the Batmobile way beyond the legal limit. Bruce doesn't give a flying banana about it. He'll pay the fine later.

Bruce looks down at his son, hoping he hasn't fallen asleep yet. Finally, finally Dick is in the arms of the crusader. Half his domino mask is ripped and Bruce tries to not break at the baby blues staring without any light-hearted gaze.

His heart still beats (A reminder he's alive and could've been more alive. Bruce failed him)

"LESLIE. DR THOMPKINS!"

Jason screeches across and marching in, earning angry stares  from the other patients but it turns into gasps and horror when they see Batman carry a limp Nightwing barely clad in spandex anymore. Everyone bows out, knowing they were priority.

-

Something inside Dick broke.

He doesn't know what it is.

He'll live with it.

-

"Bruce, he's fallen into a coma."

Leslie says, solemn. Angry tears form in Jason's eye and he was about to fight Bruce, give him the tirade. Compare him to Nightwing.

The unspoken message rings loudly in Bruce's mind. He doesn't need Jason to say it.

You failed him too.

Jason is seething, anger. Sadness a d everything is violating him from inside.

If you were a minute later, he would've died. We would've been carrying his body to the grave. The Joker would still live. You see the problem? DO YOU NOT SEE THE FUCKING PROBLEM?

Bruce sits beside Dick, his pulse like a fluttering butterfly. He grasps his hand in Duck's fragile one and prays.

Prays that he wakes up.

-

Dick is on a life support machine now.

I guess the ventilator couldn't keep him up. All good boys do die. If not, maybe a part of them broke.

Dick is no exception.

-

Alfred squeezes Bruce's hand. Jason sits so quietly beside him alongside the rest of the family.

Its April 27th. Jason was taken this day.

They don't say a word, neither does Red Hood, he just wants the baby blue eyes to open again.

He cries.

-

Five months have gone by and he stirs slowly.

He's barely moving and Jason shoots up and looks, squeezes Dick's hand again.

Baby blues meet emerald green.

Jason dashes for Leslie. She comes and shoos everyone out.

Jason is fucking glad. Dick is alive.

-

Bruce is disappointed.

He cannot bring himself to meet Dick who's currently in the ward under observation. He's failed Dick. He knows it.

He enters, heavy hearted. Dick is smiling at everyone but Bruce can see it, the hard lines. The sunshine doesn't reach the baby blues. He thinks they've turned into aquamarine, a shade tad too dark. I guess, that's what trauma does to people.

Dick smiles at Bruce, he feels the tension and Dick pats the chair beside him where Jason was sleeping. Bruce softly sits, he has no heart to wake Jason up.

Dick is alive. Dick is alive.

Bruce places one hand on Grayson's one, it feels much more warmer and his pulse is beating normally.

And he breaks.

He cries, tears steaming down his cheeks. An ugly sound escapes his throat. Bruce gasps in air and exhales shakily. Dick watches, silent.

Is this how you felt when I was in Hell?

Dick doesn't touch Bruce, doesn't say its okay and I'm alive. He stares dead into Bruce.

I cannot forgive.

Dick sits quietly, he doesn't have to say it. Loyalty does kill you in the end if you step on all the wrong pieces of glass.

That's when you find yourself falling from the trapeze line, you find yourself swirling again in the memories you wish you could lock.

Loyalty in the end, is your demise.