#dick and jason in another font

[mistergreatbones]

au adjacent to reverse robins where damian, debuting in 2006, is 7 years older than duke, debuting in 2013

[on-leatheredwings]

(Yandere?) Batboys discovering your alternative music taste (metal/goth/emo/etc)

Bruce is utterly alienated and out of his depth. Frankly, he doesn't know much about the scene. It also doesn't appeal to him much, besides the slower, moodier songs. But when it's obvious this is your taste, and it's important to you, he's fully supportive and interested. He'll purchase limited edition vinyl of your favorite albums, and have custom record stands made for you by artisans. If you happen to make music, he'll have a soundproof studio built in the manor. Sometimes, you catch familiar songs playing quietly in the Batcave, without provocation.

Dick wants you to teach him how to scream. Now. After you tell him about your music taste, he listens to your playlists and is quickly converted into a fan. Your favorite songs turn into his gym/training playlist, and he finds his leaps through the Blud are higher during a good breakdown. You two start sharing band tees. Dick would get you matching guitars, so you can practice together. Wearing a guitar pick that fits with another yin-yang style is his favorite accessory, to which you have the other half.

Jason wishes he had known earlier. Do you know how many concerts he's gone to alone, vibing out in the back of the crowd? He knows as many bands and as much alternative music history as you do. He also appreciates the more eccentric aesthetics of the scene with you. He'll put on a face of corspe paint with you any day of the week (the irony of the look isn't lost on him). Your favorite songs are fast and gritty, probably groove or thrash metal. Jason will get you both concert tickets, always front-row or in the pit. If it's the latter, he won't hesitate to knock heads together if they get a little too rowdy with you. Your best kisses also tend to happen while your favorite album is in the background, you will testify.

Tim decides to study it. Gamify it. To some extent, it's like he's studying you, which is his favorite subject, of course. Be prepared to know more than you ever imagined about your favorite artists, their writing processes, etc. Tim would be the one you have the most in depth conversations with sonically, his interpretations completely titillating and elevating the lyrics. But even if you aren't as intellectual as him, sometimes, you manage to surprise him back. He especially loves when you show him songs that strike him so poignantly, that he doesn't know how to quantify them. It encourages him to get out his head a bit more. Later on, he may get a matching tattoo of your favorite lyric, though with a symbolic image rather than explicit writing. For now, he makes playlists for you to listen to new bands he thinks you'd like.

Damian... isn't against it -- first, how could he be against anything you love? Second, he's already made his own foray into darker music... yours is just maybe more hardcore than he's ever cared to go. It just takes more exposure for him to Get It. Soon enough, he's intrigued by the artistic expression of it all. Raised with rigid rules and expectations, he certainly finds the liberation and appeal of music so rebellious and visceral. He enjoys more poetic language juxtaposed by gritty rhythms and mournful tempos. He tells you goth love songs remind him of you. Damian prefers to match silver jewelry or piercings with you, the former tend to have both of your initials engraved in spindly, thin fonts.

[junosswans]

Batfam headcanons: Report Writing

I was thinking about nonsense then it occured to me "how would the batfam write their mission/patrol report?" Like, they must have very distinct personal style that you could recognise even through the standard bat-computer font. So I wrote this!

Dick: When Dick was still Robin, he absolutely HATED writing reports. "I write enough reports at school, B-man! Why would you make me write more??" He would attempt to wriggle out of the task by bribing Alfred with snacks or offering to do chores in exchange, because anything is better than sitting straight in front of the computer and typing (they usually indulge him and let him be). He'd also slip in a few swear words and gloss over details when he HAD to write something. His reports were short and written in a slightly childish manner. However, after becoming Nightwing and moving out, his report have made drastic improvement because hey, you definitely get a lot of practice in writing admin papers as a cop. His writing style is now concise and straight to the point, filled with professional jargons and divided in clear bullet points. All the photos are properly numbered and labelled, in a typical forensic science style. (Though admittedly, he still hates writing reports. But it's something that he wouldn't let his siblings know.) He's however, chronically late in submitting his reports, because he always has a lot of things to do and he has a bad case of procrastinating when it's something he dislikes.

Jason: Jason entered the clan with a lot of anxiety (Will I be accepted? Will I ever measure up to Dick?) And a lot of insecurities. So he treats report writing very seriously and is very detailed and thorough. He tries his best to adhere to the format Bruce gave him, and would triple check his spellings and grammars (another insecurity of him). As Red Hood, he still writes his reports (reluctantly) in the same cautious manner, and he would spend a lot of time profiling the victims and the perpetrators, because it always feels personal to him. He sympathises with both sides, understands their struggles and darkness intimately, and it shows in his written report. His reports on the person of interest's background and psychological analysis is always the most detailed and on-point. He writes in paragraphs usually, and he has a broad vocabulary that leans more on the literary side. Tim comments that he feels like he's in highschool lit class whenever he needs to read Jason's report for something, since Jason's prose always has a poetic and emotional tone to it.

Tim: Tim writes his reports dutifully and very seriously, but his seriousness doesn't always translate to a piece of good report. As a kid who has the tendency to ramble, is nosey, AND has photographic memory, Tim's reports are filled with details that nobody knows whether they are necessary. He would go off and transcribe all the dialogues he heard (including the passers-by), list out all the items in the nearby trashcan, and note down how the fast food shop down the corner has a buy-one-get-one-free promotion on hotdogs. He digresses a lot, but since his eyes for details did help crack a case once or twice (definitely more than that), Bruce lets it slip. His formatting are a mess, sometimes using bullet points and suddenly switch into paragraphs and then somehow becomes a tree diagram, his reports are definitely an eyesore (Bruce, regrettably, doesn't let this slip). As Red Robin, he's made a lot of improvements on his formatting (company paperwork does that to you) and is a bit more brief, but he still has the tendency to note down the oddest things in his reports. His reports also has the most amount of photos.

Cass: Cass is still pretty new to this whole writing thing and computer thing, so she gets a lot of leeway in her report writing. She is allowed to hand this work to others (if she's on a teamed mission), or use photos, pictures and handwriting/doodling to make her point (Bruce would later code & transcribe them to make them searchable on the database). Though given the freedom to not do the work (which her siblings are deeply envious of), Cass actually likes to write her version of reports as she treats this as an opportunity to practice her literacy. Her reports look like a collage journal with very sparse, simple writing. She also has the tendency to just put in a few seemingly unrelated keywords and let others figure out the significance behind them. They're usually very insightful and useful to the case. She also likes to draw in her reports, which everyone finds endearing. Babs taught her how to draw scientific diagrams and label the items, which she puts good use to. Since she's very observant to the human anatomy and body language, the family relies a lot on her reading when there is multiple suspects.

Damian: As "the proper heir to the robin title", Damian has a no-bullshit attitude on his reports. He submits them on time, is clear in his writing, and the format is impeccable. He has a very goal-oriented view on things, so his reports tend to focus largely on the outcome of cases instead of the process (a polar opposite to Jason's and Tim's reports). He would write a lot on how and when the culprit was captured, and the consequences that await them, while some other members tend to focus more on the process of deduction and puzzle-solving. Somedays, when he is particularly annoyed with others, Damian would slip in complaints into his reports and make sure everyone KNOWS he's upset. It's like a public call-out post.

Babs: As Batgirl, Babs writes the clearest and most condensed report out of everyone, cause she learned the best from her father. She has a keen eye on analysing material evidence, and would notice the smallest scratch on things and document them faithfully in her report. She likes to use abbreviations however, and that often confuses Damian and Cass ("what does OAN even mean?? Is that a type of wire??"). Sometimes she'd abbreviate the weirdest things just to confuse everyone else and they can beg her to explain them. As Oracle, she doesn't write any reports. YOU write reports to Oracle.

Steph: Steph is passionately against the idea of report writing. In her opinion, if she delivers the result there shouldn't be a need to write pages long of boring, bland descriptions on how that result is achieved. To various degrees of success, she would bribe others into doing the work for her ("work smarter, not harder, baby!") But when she has to write something, she would write in a very casual tone and often types with voice input. Therefore, her reports are filled with odd typos and occasionally hilarious choice of words (not because she couldn't be professional, but she doesn't want to be). Bruce is mostly frustrated but is also secretly glad that she's not forcing herself to do something that she doesn't want to. And she is true that she always delivers.

Duke: Duke is mostly neutral towards the aspect of report writing-- he's not particularly fond of it, but he understands that it is something important. Thanks to his superhuman vision, Duke is very alert in observing his surroundings and the environment. He would map out very detailed diagrams about building structures as well as machine components, which makes his reports very reliable when it comes to any kind of crimes related to alien items and technological innovations. Duke also has a large network from his Robingang, so he's very informed in the rumours and hearsays on the streets. He would include most of what he's heard in his reports so that others could follow up on them at night.

[ac-liveblogs]

Gotham Knights is... well, it’s a janky game that naturally draws comparison to the much sleeker Arkham series, and it was always going to. The writing though. It’s not like. Bad. It’s just boring. I get the sense the game is always taking the easiest and least controversial way out. I think I’m about halfway through and I don’t expect that to change.

The plot is... boring. It has elements of Battle for the Cowl and Batman Reborn mashed in with the Court of Owls, which sounds like a winning combination, but all the messiness of the reset status quo in Batman Reborn has been traded in for... I don’t know, wholesome familial bonding?

And sure, if you’re into that, whatever, but personally the idea of Dick, Jason, Tim & Babs taking it in turns to play therapist to another member of the party for 1 minute at a time while all interpersonal conflict is shallow and resolves in about half that time is boring as sin. Bruce died, where’s the drama? You really want me to like that Jason had his whole character arc off-screen? The same character arc the damn comics also put off-panel until Urban Legends fucked it up??? 

The same character arc that flies in the face of what makes him an interesting character in the first place??

I liked the new status quo in Batman Reborn, Jason’s......................... um, writing choices aside. And it would’ve been cool to revisit here! Gotham as a battleground for Dick & Jason’s warring ideo- and methodologies, their unresolved issues with Bruce taken out on each other by proxy, and the two needing to resolve their differences in the face of a new, more dangerous villain - one Bruce couldn’t even discover, let alone defeat - sounds fucking cool. Assuming one cuts Jason loose from. Again. Morrison’s questionable writing choices. If he’s going to be here, and he has to be part of the main cast, you... might as well leverage the characterisation that makes him unique? 

Babs as Batgirl is a downgrade and Tim is unfortunately once again suffering from off-screen boyfriend syndrome. And. You know. It’s so great to see him coping with loss so well, he’s historically been so great at that. I don’t love the way the game frames Batman as a mentor figure that still has wisdom to impart to Nightwing, Batgirl & Red Hood when at this point in their careers they have well outgrown him - especially a Dick in Bludhaven, or a Barbara post-Oracle. That said, this game is expecting to net the Arkham crowd, so what do you expect.

Having the character routes essentially be the same events in a slightly different font depending on which character you pick is not to this game’s benefit. No-one feels like they bring any unique skills, connections or opinions to the table, so I think I probably would’ve preferred a Nightwing-centric story that got to delve into his psyche a little more.

The Court of Owls is not handled as well as in the comics - I’ve never felt intimidated by them in-game the way the comics could, and it doesn’t help that the League of Assassins shows up to make them look like chumps well before the first speaking, intelligent and mildly challenging Talon shows up. I feel they weren’t leveraged to their full potential, to say nothing of the entire can of worms that comes with making Jacob Kane, a Jewish man, the leader of the secret cabal of elites running Gotham from the shadows.

I understand the pragmatic need to streamline the Court’s membership - William Cobb and Lincoln March are also absent - to keep things simpler, things got a bit.... lol in the comics but given Batwoman isn’t even in this game it’s an extremely bad call. I wonder if they’d wanted to link the Court to the existing cast if Tim’s parents trying to get in the Court’s good graces wouldn’t have been a good entry point for him?

I like Talia so far. I assume Bruce is alive or soon will be given the emphasis on Lazarus Pits so far, especially via Jason, and Ra’s will certainly return. I like the email chains. There’s some funny stuff in there. 

I can live with the janky gameplay, though stealth doesn’t feel as viable an option as it did in Arkham (enemies are considerably less dangerous as a trade-off) and platforming can be a problem. I don’t appreciate bosses that required strategy in Arkham, like Mr Freeze, turning into slogs just to whittle down HP - that’s not fun. My main point of ire is that I’m forced into Tim’s route because he’s the only character I have no control issues with. Jason is damn near unplayable (setting aside why they made him a goddamn tank? What about any of his fights made anyone think he was a slow and mostly landlocked? I get wanting to make the bats unique, but... come on, he had a blueprint in Arkham Knight), Nightwing has ups and downs and Babs is... okay? Tim is the only one that feels slightly polished. 

The game looks fine and the basics are there, it just... feels like it was released too early. Tale as old as videogames. So I’m not marking it down toooo much. I can be lenient! Sometimes. 

So far this game is a solid. Like. 5/10. We’ll see if that improves. 

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Origin Story 2: Electric Boogaloo

by krysinyy Dr. Strange - Stephen, is a really nice guy. Peter is positive that Stephen is trying his best, it’s just been a long day. Or week. Month? Fighting multiversal bad guys really messes with your sense of time. So when Peter gets his head knocked so hard he wakes up in another universe he doesn’t exactly blame Mr. Strange. Cue Peter Benjamin Parker being unceremoniously dumped in Gotham where it seems like history is determined to repeat itself. This time, the font is just a little different. Words: 515, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Batman - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: M/M Characters: Peter Parker, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Leslie Thompkins, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Damian Wayne, Roy Harper Relationships: Tim Drake/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Peter Parker Additional Tags: Whump, Graphic Description, Serious Injuries, Dimension Travel, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Found Family, Angst and Humor, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Cannon is the photo on the box and I'm bad at puzzles, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence via https://ift.tt/dtnOIeB

[hintofelation99]

Please elaborate on the documentary of the League of Assassins

Well, if you insist...

I present to you the trailer for "The League of Assassins: An Indepth Exploration of the World's Most Prolific Group of Assassins"

The camera pans artfully over a snowy mountain range. Sad, dramatic, slowly building music plays.

Font: Duke Thomas and Damian Wayne Present

A woman's voice (Pru) narrates, she sounds teary: I- I was young, naive. I just wanted to join normal cult. Live in weird mansion, dress like a furry, punch a clown, y'know usual cult stuff. But this-

The scene switches to show Pru sitting in a featurless room with her hands folded on a table in front of her. She turns away from the camera, shuttering.

Pru: I never even got to dress in green panties or a yellow cape.

Pru cries, the music picks up, and the camera cuts away to the North Pole amusement park in Colorado. Jason walks through pointing at random kids.

Jason, labeling the kids: Assassin. Assassin. Assassin in training. Assassin.

Font: A motion picture in association with Wayne Enterprises, Superman, and Rent-a-Bat

Jason turns and blocks the camera as Damian (with his face blurred) walks by: Don't even film that one, blood thirsty beast.

Jason continues walking, gesturing wildly at random things like trashcans, park maps, and public bathrooms, but the videos audio fades.

Font: What Bruce Wayne called "the dumbest, most careless, life-threatening thing you boys have ever done!"

A voice over starts, dramatic views of the park continue to fill the screen.

Jason: Yeah, I was just a normal kid in a cult. I jumped off rooftops, punched the mentally ill, lived with a controlling rich dude. Then one day I woke up.

Dramatic dun dun

Duke: What happened after you woke up?

Jason: I became one of them...

The music really starts to speed up, like emotional action adventure trailer music or national geographic deadly animal documentary music. It cuts to Jason in a Little Gym with a plastic sword, he's swinging it around, occasionally dropping it or accidentally whacking himself.

Jason's voice narrates: They trained me to be a master assassin.

Jason accidentally hits himself in the shin with the sword. He falls down, dropping the sword, holding his shin and audibly groaning in pain.

Jason: I am- was one of the best.

Shows Jason on the floor with Dick (face blurred) rolling up his pant leg and examining perfectly clear skin.

Jason: They taught me how to fight, how to work past my fears, how to handle pain

Dick kisses the wound better as Jason bites his hand trying not to cry.

Jason: I don't even notice pain anymore.

Jason chuckles darkly as the video shows Dick putting a Green Lantern band-aid on his shin, which is still perfectly clear and uninjured.

Jason: I'm just trying to move past all of it.

Another dramatic mountain range shot, the music builds into an faster and more intense number, no longer trying to pull at the heartstrings just trying to get the viewers heart racing.

Font: And Harley Quinn calls "The greatest thing since that Joker documentary Duke Thomas made!!"

Damian speaks, his voice is modified to sound high pitched and mechanized: From the moment I was born I was trained to be the deadliest assassion.

A photoshopped picture of some random baby holding a knife flashes on screen. Another picture of that same baby flashes, this time photoshopped to look like the baby is assassinating a world leader.

Damian: I killed with no remorse.

The video switches to a shaky camera, clearly trying not to be seen. It's night, from the corner of the screen part of Batman's upper body can be seen. The music grows even more dramatic and faster, violins start playing.

Font: The greatest Labor Day weekend movie release since 'Jeepers Creepers 2'

Duke, yelling: What's your name?

Batman, typical growl: Excuse me?

Duke: Say your name!

Batman: Are you filming me?

The camera shakes as Duke runs away. Music reaches a peak.

Font: The documentary that will have you saying "Not Santa!"

Scene cuts to a dark room, the camera is blurred and shaking. A dramatic heartbeat like drumming plays.

Font: A never before seen look into...

Duke, sounding terrified: W-Who are you?

Duke, still scared but yelling: I said, who are you?

Ra's Al Ghul: I am the demon head.

Quickly cuts with a dramatic drum noise. On the screen the silhouettes of Deathstroke, Onyx, Pru, Black Bat, Batman, Red Hood, and Robin appear

Font: The League of Assassins: An Indepth Exploration of the World's Most Prolific Group of Assassins

A light creepy violin plays, Red Robin can be seen sitting on a roof top at night, obscured by shadows.

Red Robin: They took my spleen.

-----

After watching the trailer.

Bruce: You are not releasing it.

Duke: We are releasing it.

Bruce: You are NOT releasing it.

Damian: We ARE releasing it.

Bruce: YOU ARE NOT RELEASING IT!

Jason: I released it.

Also I started by planning to write like a funny short script for like a ten minute mockumentary, but then I was like "nah I'm either doing just the trailer or a whole damn script" so I now have part of the movies script in my drafts.

[draco-kasai]

Hero Collaboration Program

Summery: High School Hero Collaboration Program! Helping Sophomore hero students connect with others around the world! Come join us for a two-week-long trip to one of our schools for an amazing once in a lifetime experience with students of Yuuei! Only a lucky 40 students will be selected for this program. They will be split into two groups of 20 and sent to different schools to have completely unique experiences! 

 A/N: AKA, A very ambitious fanfic I started because even though I have another fanfic in progress my brain decided to give me an idea and I just had to do it. These are all characters I adore and I even did lots of reasurch on them to hopefuly get them down right. I also too many backstories and threw them into a meat grinder to remold them in a way that would make them fit into this universe.

 I love Class 1-A, but like they need to be taken down a peg or two, and I want to see them get their asses handed to them.  

Ch. 1 part 1 of 3 Program sign-ups.  -->

Chapter 1 Part 2 

High School Hero Collaboration Program

Helping first year hero students connect with others around the world!

What is the HSHC Program?

Our program has had a partnership with Yuuei High School for 15 long years! Their first-year students would come to our schools to interact, learn and study with other sophomore students for two weeks! - For those who don’t know, first year high school students in Japan would be considered sophomores here in the states! - A select few students nationwide as well as worldwide are selected to participate. All services and activities are offered and provided at no cost to participants or their families. This program is geared to help young heroes become (1) more informed of the educational, social, and cultural aspects available, (2) learn how to work with others they are unfamiliar with, (3) gain a better understanding of hero agencies and laws around the world, (4) assist students in successfully gaining connections with other aspiring heroes around the world their own age.

 Student Participants

A total of 40 lucky students are hand selected to take part in this 16 day long program. 28 slots are open for Nationwide applications. The remaining 12 slots are open for applicants across the world! Students are to go through a long application process and in person interview. Once admitted, students will be staying within the dorms that are provided. All plane tickets will be paid for by our program. This program will take place in two schools; Marina High School located in California and Chandler High School located in Arizona.

All partners who wish to apply together must submit a joint application and answer an extra essay question. Only accepting duo teams. Bigger teams are asked to either pair off and sign up as duos, or sign up individually. The whole purpose of this program is for young aspiring heroes to meet others and form connections.

 Application

All applicants are required to turn in two essays (unless a team). There is no page or word limit, 12 size text, font New Times Roman, single space. Along with your essays, please send in two teacher recommendation letters. A checklist will be provided at the end of this packet. Make sure to use it to assist you in keeping organized. Everything can be either faxed to (951-262-3062), given to school office faculty to hand to us or through mailed to 1640 Riverside Drive, Hill Valley, California.

Applicants that make it past the first stage of the application process will be scheduled for an in-person interview. A letter will be sent out within two weeks after the interview confirming whether or not you have been accepted.

 Essay 1.

When you become a hero, what do you hope to accomplish?

 Essay 2.

What major event in your life has led you to where you are now and your decision to become a hero?

Essay question for hero teams.

How did you meet, and when did you decide to work together as a team?

Emerald eyes narrowed as they skimmed over the packet that had been handed to them. With one last look over, they turned to face the person who had given them the packet. Bright blue eyes stared back with a large smile plastered on their lips. “What is this, Grayson?”

“It’s the Hero Collaboration Program!” Richard Grayson – Part-time Gotham Police officer and Underground Hero: Nightwing - responded enthusiastically.

Green eyes rolled skyward at the older boy’s words, “I can see that. All my teachers at school had even taken the liberty to constantly remind us about it. What I mean is, why did you give this to me?”

“Awe common, Kiddo, I thought you were smart.” Jason Todd – Vigilante: Red Hood – joked as he ruffled the younger boy’s black hair. With an annoyed grunt, his hand was swatted away, “We want you to apply for the program.”

With a huff, the youngest fixed his hair, “And why would I do such a thing?” 

The oldest boy grinned wider, “It’ll be fun!”

“No.” The youngest replied with a deadpan expression as he tossed the thin packet on the coffee table in front of him.

With a click of his tongue, Jason crossed his arms over his chest. Leaning back on the loveseat, he responded, “Just apply you brat, it’s not even that bad.”

“What’s ‘not that bad’?” Another voice asked as they walked into the living room, laptop in one hand, a cup of coffee in another.

“The Hero Collaboration Program.” Jason responded as he glanced over at the sleep-deprived man as he flopped down next to him.

“Oh! They started accepting applicants already?!” Timothy Drake – CEO of Wayne Enterprises and Underground Hero: Red Robin - sat up enthusiastically.  

“Yeah, but Damian doesn’t want to apply!” Dick pouts

“I’m not going to apply to a program that does not benefit me in any way shape or form.” Damian rolled his eyes.

“Wha- but it teaches you so much! Your teachers must have told you about the benefits!” Tim frowned, taking a sip of his coffee.

“They did, but I don’t have any need for socializing.”

“Are you kidding me? You’ve been six years and your only friends are Jon and Maya, and honestly, I don’t think it counts. Maya is in her last year of high school and Jon is a year below you. You need friends your own age.” Jason responded, then waved his hand about, “Even if they're scattered across the continent.”

“I thought he made friends when he was sent to that boarding school in San Francisco for two years when he was eleven?” Dick raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, Titan middle school, right?" Tim hums, "I mean, they helped him become better, I guess?"

"Honestly, I feel like that was the work of the school itself, not them. Besides, Damian doesn't even text or call them like he does Maya and Jon." Jason huffs

“You've been snooping through my phone.” Damian glares as he pulls a knife from nowhere like magic.

"In that case, how will this help him if he isn't even close to people he went to school with for two years?" Tim thought out loud. 

"Well, back then it was regular school and classes. Schools don't offer more hero electives till sophomore year in high school. The program does lots of team building and training. What better way to make friends than when your life's in their hands?"

"That's a good point," Tim nods in agreement. 

“Didn’t you, like, date Raven while you were over there?” Dick teased, elbowing his brother

“No. I did NOT date Raven.”

“Wha- really? You seemed so close.” Dick blinks in surprise.

"Dude, she's dating Garfield."

"What?! Really?"

"How the hell do you know that?"

"Kori." 

"Oh… right, I forgot she mentioned that."

"Dude, she's your wife. If she knows you block out her rants, she's going to kill you."

"... I don't…  block out her rants."

“We’re straying off-topic.” Tim hums, hiding his smirk with his drink as Damian, who proceeded to slowly stand, shoots him a glare before a hand grabs the back of his color and pulled him back down. 

“Oh! Right, the Hero Collaboration Program!” Dick grins

“I think Damian taking part in the program is a good idea.” Everyone's eyes flickered over to the entrance where Bruce Wayne – Owner of Wayne Enterprises and Underground Hero: Batman – stood with Alfred Pennyworth, besides him. “This program will benefit you and help you make friends with people your own age, maybe even teach you something new.”

“Your brothers all attended the program, master Damian.” Alfred gave the boy an encouraging smile as he handed out drinks for everyone in the room, “In a way you could consider it a tradition at this point.” The younger boy took his drink silently as he pondered the words the older man had given him.

“Oh yeah, I guess it kind of is tradition at this point, huh…” Tim hummed, finishing his coffee and graciously handing the empty cup to Alfred, who shoved a cup of water in his hands.

“I joined during… what? During their third year of existence?” Dick wondered out loud as he leaned back on the couch.

“That’s correct, master Dick.”

“Haa~ I was Bruce’s test dummy to make sure the program was actually useful.” Dick chuckled softly.

“Pft seriously? Thanks for your sacrifice.” Jason smirked, making Tim let out a soft laugh.

“I suppose.” Everyone fell silent to look at the youngest Wayne, “If it’s a tradition at this point, I suppose I have no other choice but to partake in it as well.”

“That’s the spirit, Lil D!” Jason grinned.

“You’ll have fun. You’ll learn a lot, too.” Tim smiled, taking the smallest of sip of his water. With a glare from Alfred, he took a bigger gulp.

“Yes! Oh, man! I can’t wait for you to tell us about it when you get back! Maybe we should tell him stories of our experience!?” Dick energetically exclaimed as he practically bounced in his seat.

Bruce gave the boys a soft appeasing smile as they all cheered, making Damian scrunch up his face at the loud sound. With a soft sigh, he walked across the room to his office. Along the way, he gave his youngest a soft hair ruffle, making him groan.

Damian Wayne. Age 16. Seat 11. Student Rank 1. Hero Name: Red Bird. Quirk: Quirkless

Martial arts, hand-to-hand, sword, expert detective, hacker, stealth.

___

“Alright, class, make sure to think about signing up for that program! It’s a very good opportunity! You’re dismissed for lunch!” Mr. Barkin, a big man with an obvious werewolf mutation, dismissed his class.

A slim girl with long bright brown hair walked next to a beautiful dark-skinned girl with wavy black locks. The ginger hummed as she stared down at the packet that had been handed to them near the end of class, “I don’t know, what do you think Monique?”

 “I think it sounds like a lot of fun! Kim, girl, this is an O.I.A.L.T. E; Once In A Life Time Experience!” Monique paused and frowned.

“That was a long one.” Kim smirks at her friend.

“Ugh, I know. Never gonna use that one again.” The girl waved her hand in the air. Both girls stopped in front of a locker, “But It still stands! You should totally do it!”

“But what about you? And – and Ron?” Kim leans against the lockers, watching as her friend opens hers to put away her books.

“Psssh~ Pu-lease, I’ll be fine! I’ve got work at Club Banana and a bunch of homework to keep me company!” The brown eyed girl closed her locker, and they began their trip to Kim’s locker, “As for Ron, well-“

“K.P!!” Both girls turn to see a blond rushing over, “Did you hear about the exchange program!? Are you signing up? Please tell me you’re not leaving me! We’re supposed to be a team!!” He cried out as he hugged his friend.

The redhead huffed softly before prying her friend off her, “Ron, so not cool.”

“Yeah I – sorry K.P I just – I heard about the program and assumed you’d sign up and leave without me.” Ron sniffled dramatically. From his pocket, a small pink rodent climbed up to his shoulder and nodded in agreement, making small squeaking noises. “See! Rufus and I would miss you…” 

Monique rolled her eyes with a smirked as she gently pushed the two forward to keep walking, “You know, the program is accepting team sign ups~”

“Wait really!?” Ron gasped as he brought the packet back up to read. “Oh my god, they are!”

Kim frowns, “I don’t know, then you’d really be alone, Monique.” They stop at her locker.

“Oh common Kim. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity! You have to S. I; seize it! You’re not going to be a sophomore forever, girl.” Monique leaned on the lockers with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Yeah! It’s a good opportunity to learn about other school systems! Did you see who they're partnered with K. P? It’s Yuuei High school! Yuuei! They're, like, the best in Japan! At least that's what the rest of this thing says and what Yori told me when I did that whole” Ron waves his hand in a circle as he shrugs, “seven day long Japan exchange thing during First Semester.”  

“You still have yet to tell us much about that.” Kim smirks as she opens her locker, “Japan is one of those places that have schools that specialize in training hero’s, right?”

“That’s right!” Everyone looked up to the projection of a boy their age sitting at a desk, “Hey girls! Hi Ron, Rufus, Whatcha guys talkin’ bout?”

“Hey Wade. We’re just talking about Some program that’s partnered with Yuuei.” Kim smiled at the screen as she put her things in the locker.

“Oh! The Hero Collaboration Program?” Wade’s smile widens.

Kim rolls her eyes half-heartedly at her friends' excitement. “Of course you’ve heard of it.”

“Yeah! Tell Kim that She’s GOT to GO!” Monique gave her friend a glare.

“Wade! Tell us about Yuuei High School!” Ron practically begged, shoving past Kim before standing behind her again. His best friend shot him an annoyed glare.

With a sigh, Kim finally nods, “Tell us about the school.”

Wade grins and begins quickly typing away on his laptop. A few images began appearing next to him, “As you know, Yuuei High School is known as a hero school. They’re known for ranking number 1 in hero schools across Japan. Their competitor, coming in second by just a bit, is Shiketsu High School. If you ask me though, Shiketsu is obviously better, I mean, look at those uniforms! So wicked! Look at those hats and blazers!”

“Right, about Yuuei.” Kim gently reprimands when she notices her friend is straying off-topic.

“Oh, right! So, from what I’m seeing so far, I think Yuuei has an unfair entrance exam.”

“They have Entrance Exams?” Monique asked with a raised brow.  

Wade nods, “Yeah. In Japan, to get into high schools, students are required to take an entrance exam.” 

“Right, so, why do you think it’s unfair?” Kim raised a brow

“Well, looking at their sports festival, Just about everyone in the hero program has a “flashy” quirk. When you compare it to other hero school’s and their graduating classes, their quirks are more balanced. Um, one sec” Wade’s eyes narrowed, his pointer finger stretches out like a wire, and he connects to his computer. A moment later, his eyes turn blue and data begins to quickly rush through.

“Is it just me or is he… taking longer than usual?” Ron raises an eyebrow after four minutes pass. 

“Mm, another reason to be glad our school has an hour-long lunch…” Monique hums as she leans on a leg, a hand on her hip. They watched in silence as Wade frowned and bit his lower lip. After three more minutes, the boy smirks, disconnecting himself, making his eyes turn back to normal. “Got it.” he grins as he leans back in his seat.

“Uuuuh, got what?” Ron tilts his head in confusion.

“I hacked into their system. It was pretty tricky considering it was made by the smartest being in the world, but nothing compared to me and my quirk. They had a bunch of firewalls and backups too, I think it was a lot of fun to get through.” Wade smirks as he shows them different class schedules for different courses, “I redacted all the important information, but it seems like this school also separates all of their courses. Hero course students, General Education, business, and support. They all learn different things, never interacting unless necessary.”

“That’s… different.” Kim raises an eyebrow. “Um, should you really be hacking into the system of the ‘world's smartest being’ Wade?” 

“Ah, don’t worry about it, Kim. Hack helps make sure I’m untraceable and if Nedzu did get an alert, which I worked my way around, and somehow traces a location it’ll just lead him to random computers in a random location of Japan.”

“Wow, The support course students don’t have any combat classes.” Ron frowned, obviously preferring to look at the schedules to listening to the conversation. 

“Hold up - Why does General Education have a Quirk Positivity class? This is high school? Shouldn't they have that class in elementary school?” Monique crossed her arms over her chest. Face filled with confusion.

“Right? Not just that, but the school conducts a sports festival, that they compare to the Olympics every year, that puts all the courses against one another.” Wade closes and erases the schedules, replacing them with a video reel of fights and highlights. 

“Wha - why even call it a sports festival!? All they're doing is fighting?” Ron frowns before grinning as he watches one of the students punch another, “Booya! Look at that right hook!”

“Oh snap! He flipped him like a pancake!” Monique grinned as they watched the highlight reels. 

“Why would they do that? Isn’t that practically advertising your quirk to all the villains in the area?” Kim rose an eyebrow

“It says that it’s done to ‘promote their students to other heroes for field studies.’ The kids receive internship requests by heroes that want to take them on. It’s dumb though because, according to this, only fifteen students from both hero classes combined got internship requests! And one of them got 4,123 requests!” 

“They're promoting their students like they're the newest fashion trend.” Monique frowns, looking away from the video. 

“That’s… only fifteen kids? Seriously? What about the others? Do they just… not do anything? Why can’t they all just apply like we do? I - My brain can’t process...” Rufus squeaks in sympathy as he pats Ron’s cheek with his paw. 

Monique frowns in thought,  “Hey, wait a minute… you said that the sports festival includes all the students, right?”

“Yeah, Three day’s worth of sports festival, one for each grade.” 

The girl scoffed, “They're using the other courses to make the hero course look better, aren’t they?” 

“What do you mean, Monique?” Kim frowns

“Think about it, girl, you saw the schedules. The hero course is the only course with combat training.” Kim’s eyes widened in realization. 

“Duuuude, not cool! If they all had at least the same level of experience, it would be a lot better.” Ron frowns as he crosses his arms. 

“Exactly! Personally, I prefer the way our school system is set up. Anyone who wants to take hero classes can take them, and if you don’t finish the credits, you’re in the academy longer. Not to mention, anyone who wants field experience could just apply and do the internships.” Wade crossed his hands over his chest.

“Wade, you're taking support course electives.” Kim smiled softly, “but you have a point.”

“Of course I do! I’m doing field study with the space center! You and Ron go every other weekend to work with the hero agency, and when vacation comes along you’ll be allowed to do more than just patrol. I just… this is just... “Wade signs, “At least I know how to fight and defend myself if anything were to occur.”

“A little worked up there huh, Wade...” Ron gave him a sympathetic smile

“Sorry.” He smiles sheepishly, “Anyway, will you and Kim be applying guys? They accept duo teams.” Kim thinks about it for a moment before letting out a soft sigh and smile.

“You know what? What the heck, let’s do it, Ron.” Kim smiles, “I think it’ll be really cool to get in and talk to other people not from around here. Make some new friends, and possible future partners.”

“Boo-ya! We’re so getting in!” Ron held up a finger for Rufus to high five.

Kim and Monique smile at one another, thanking Wade, the redhead closes her locker, “We can celebrate with Bueno Nacho AFTER we get accepted. For now, let's go get lunch before the break ends.”

“You think they’d let Rufus in?”

“Ron, I don’t know if they’d let your pet in the program.” Monique smiled

“Gasp! Pet? Rufus is NOT a pet! He is our partner!” the little rodent nods in agreement as he squeaks in response. 

“Maybe we could ask when we get past the interview process. We’ll have to see, don’t get your hopes up, though, Ron.” Kim smiles softly, patting the boy's shoulder.

Kim Possible. Age 16. Seat 2. Student Rank 2. Hero Name: Possible. Quirk: Quirkless.

Kung fu, acrobatics and gymnastics, cheerleading skills, martial arts, hand to hand

Ron Stoppable. Age 16. Seat 9. Student Rank 11. Hero Name: Koi. Quirk: Karmic Luck.

His good luck fixes his bad luck. His natural bad luck places him in bad situations, however thanks to his quirk they always turn in his favor. For example, He once tripped over a rock, which caused him to dodge bird poop coming at him. 

Basic Hand to hand, Ninjutsu

____

A young teen with black hair sat in a chair in their room, the red sleeves of his sweater pulled up to his elbows as he tinkered with a few things. The door to the room slowly opened to show a scrawny man with his blond hair in a beanie. Seeing his younger friend working, he walked in and waved the others in. Walking in, everyone made themselves comfortable in the room. A buff, burly man, walked closer to the teen. With a good slap on the back, making the boy shout in surprise, he greeted him.

“Hey there, little man!” He grinned widely, crossing his arms over his chest. Brown eyes blinked in surprise as he spun around on his chair to face the four adults. 

“Oh! Hey guys! What brings you four here?” The younger boy asked with a smile as he adjusts himself in his seat. The adults all glanced at each other for a moment. A girl with purple streaks in her hair held out a packet to him, a small smile on her lips.

“We wanted you to apply for the Hero Collaboration Program.” Honey Lemon began as the boy began to read it.

“You’re a really smart kid, Hiro. Graduated from high school early, taking hero and support classes at the same time at the institute.” Gogo smiles.

“You’ve made awesome support weapons and during battle training you’re, like, wicked smart.” Fred praises. 

“Buuuut you’re also a kid. A kid that’s friends with a bunch of adults, we want you to make some friends your own age.” Wasabi grinned sheepishly, everyone nodded in agreement.

“Do… you guys not like being my friends?” Hiro frowns, looking back up at them, dejection clear on his face. 

“No!” They all shouted at once.

“It’s not like that!” 

“We love being your friend, little dude!” 

“You’re an awesome dude!”

“We don’t hate you!”

“We’re not trying to make you feel like we hate you!” Wasabi sighed as he ran a hand down his face, “We just want you to make friends your own age.”

“Yeah, you graduated from high school pretty early on general studies, and are now taking both hero and support classes at the institute, but you never really got a chance to make friends your age.” Honey Lemon explained.

“We already called to ask if you’d be able to apply.” Gogo smiled.

“Yeah! They said that they understand the circumstances considering your quirk and will make an exception! Of course, they said that just because they’re letting you apply doesn’t mean you will be accepted! That’s all on you, my dude!” Fred grinned as he shot the young teen finger guns.

Hiro stared down at the packet in his hands for a moment. They're not wrong. Because of his quirk, he had practically breezed through school and graduated at 11. He’s never been interested in heroics or any of that stuff, but even if he wanted to, no hero school would have accepted him because of his young age. Finding boredom in just staying home, he began to tinker with things and began to build small robots for fun - and maybe to con a few people out of their money - but he’s never pursued anything specific. 

He hadn’t even thought about going into support until his older brother had brought it up when he was thirteen. After lots of hard work, he had gotten into the biggest hero school in the Tokyo prefecture, Institute for Heroics and Technology. He thought about applying to UA in shizuoka but he decided that the school was too over rated and stayed in Tokyo. He had stuck to the technical side of things, at least till his brother was killed in an explosion. It had taken a lot of convincing, but he was able to get his friends to help him take down the villain that caused it. He and his friends had become vigilantes and once they had captured the culprit he was reluctant to stop. It wasn’t long till he found himself in the heroics courses as well. 

Now that he’s reflecting on it, they're right. He doesn’t have any friends his own age. Taking a deep breath, he nods, “Alright, sure. I’ll apply.”

“Really!?” Honey Lemon practically squeals in excitement.

“Yeah, besides, it says that the kids at Yuuei are participating. They’ve been through a bunch of villain attacks already, It’ll be interesting to see how they compare to other heroes in training.” Hiro leaned back in his seat, a leg crossing to rest on the other. 

“Oh… Oh, no, that’s his ‘I have plans’ smirk, guys.” Fred stage whispered to the others.

“Should I be feeling bad for the Yuuei kids or the exchange kids he’ll be with if he’s accepted?” Wasabi asked, making Hiro burst into a fit of laughter.

“... Both.” Honey Lemon squeaked.

“He’s going to have fun.” Gogo smirked.

Hiro Hamada. Age: 15. Seat 13. Student rank 3. Hero Name: Zero. Quirk: Prodigy 

His brain functions at a faster rate than possible, making it easy for him to process and retain information, giving him genius level intelligence. 

Hand to hand, Martial Arts, builds his own support items.

_____

“No way man.” A dark skinned boy groaned as he tossed his backpack on the ground and sat himself on his desk chair, the wheels sending him back a bit. 

“What? Miles, dude common. This event is for sophomores ONLY. You’re never getting this opportunity, ever again!” Another male walked into the shared room and closed the door behind him. 

“Ganke I just got the hang of swinging around, the school year is going to end in a few months meaning finals are coming up, I don’t need to stress myself out more with this program.” Miles huffed in response, riffling through his backpack he pulled out his textbooks. 

Sitting himself at his own desk, the boy responded as he grabbed his own things, “That was three months ago dude. The school year doesn’t even end until June, we’re barely getting into November, and this program is supposed to be fun. Did you even read that packet? You’ve been stressing yourself too much by adding so much training on top of your school work.” 

“...... I can’t rest Ganke, you know that. I have to hurry up and graduate, so I can take over what Peter had left for me.” Miles let out a tired sigh as he slumped back on his chair and stared at the ceiling. “I know what happened to him wasn’t my fault, I get that, but… I just… I could have done more, you know? Like, I know he took me in for field studies because we have similar quirks, but I’ve looked up to him for so long and to be acknowledged only for it to be torn away all of a sudden… We became so close… He wanted me to take over the mantle of Spider-man and I just… I can’t let him down…”

Ganke sat in silence for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts before speaking, “I get that you want to take over the mantle of your mentor, but common man. Take a breather. We’re teenagers and you're burning yourself out. Peter wouldn’t want you to burn yourself out like this. You need this break.” 

Silence fell in the dorm room once again as both boys started their homework. It wasn’t long for Miles to find himself tapping his pencil against his desk. Ganke’s words floating about in his mind. With a weary sigh, Miles re-read the packet that he pulled out from where he had stuffed it in a text book. “Your right… I do need a break.” 

Ganke grinned widely and kicked off to roll over to his friend, “That a boy!” he cheered, slapping his friend’s shoulder, “Now then, let's talk support items! I've had this idea on making little nubs for your gloves that can discharge electricity for like a week now! I bet you’d like it! The trip is supposed to be in Late February, right? We have so much time! We can test them after school! You can even put them to use on the field when you do actual combat during Christmas break’s field studies!” Miles snorted at his friend's enthusiasm. 

Miles Morales. Age 15. Seat 9. Student Rank 4. Hero Name: Spider-man. Quirk: Dolophanes Conifera.

Has characteristics of a wrap around spider. He can camouflage with his surroundings and shoot spiderwebs from a small hole from his wrists. He can effortlessly cling and climb walls thanks to the settles on his hands and feet. Is most active during the night. If he bites anyone, a venom is injected to temporarily stun his victim.

Hand to hand, fast reflexes, flexible

____

A raven haired boy with bright blue eyes groaned in frustration as he slammed his face on the kitchen table. His older sister with red hair frowned with worry, “What’s wrong, Danny?”

“Mr. Lancer handed out some packet for heroes and, like it sounds like fun, but it doesn’t allow trio teams.” Danny responded as he rested his chin on the table.

“Hero? I thought Tucker is in for support, while Sam handles the business aspect when you guys started your own agency?” The older sibling frowned in confusion.

Danny sticks his lower lip out in a pout, “Well, yeah but…” He sits up right, “Sam and Tucker are encouraging me to sign up, and It’s cool and all, but… I just…” The boy paused, turning over the words in his head in an attempt to organize them. His sister waited patiently for him to speak again, “I’ve never felt so… lonely I guess. Like… Tucker and, surprisingly enough, Kyle are going to be handling the Support items and any other tech-savvy stuff. Sam has Wes for business stuff, even if they do argue a lot, but I… have nobody.” The boy buries his face in his hands, “It’s stupid, I know…”

“W - what about Valery? She wants to be a hero too, right? You two were pretty close…?” His sister tries to reassure.

“Yeah, but she hates my guts now, Jazz. Remember the whole incident I told you about with quirk training?”

His older sister frowns at this. Her blue eyes looked over to the packet her brother had set aside. Taking it, she read it over silently before smiling softly, “Well, I definitely agree with Sam and Tucker that you should apply.” 

Danny looks up with a frown, “But I’d be all alone…” 

“Danny, the whole point of the program is to meet young aspiring heroes your own age. I'm sure you’ll make a friend or two while you’re out there.” Handing her brother the packet, she watched as his eyes roamed over the words again. 

“I… I guess you’re right.”

Jazz smiles reassuringly at her brother, “Of course I’m right. Now then, let me help you fill that thing out.” 

Daniel James Fenton. Age 16. Seat 8. Student Rank 5. Hero Name: Phantom, Quirk: - REDACTED - Ghost.

After turning four, his quirk, cryokinesis, had manifested. When he was 11 he was involved in a lab accident that -REDACTED- mutated his quirk. He can now turn invisible at will, walk through solid objects, fly, minor telekinesis, ghost wail, cryokinesis. He has no need to breathe, can last a week without food. 

Hand to hand, night vision, stealth, enhanced hearing. 

Chapter 1 Part 2

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober 2020 Day 6

No more | "stop please"

Ao3

Warnings: kidnapping and torture pretty much. Misunderstandings. Angst. Lost of angst.

-o-o-o-o-

One month, seven days, thirteen hours, and forty six minutes. 

Exactly one month, seven days, thirteen hours, and forty six minutes ago, Dick went missing. Dropped off the face of the earth. He was last seen leaving work. Bruce knew he made it home, but his apartment was trashed by the time Bruce went over to check it out himself. Though, he had expected that. There had been a complaint called in from the downstairs neighbor about the ruckus.

However, it was a kind of "trashed" that was so unlike Dick. On one hand, Dick  did  have a messy living space. It had been an issue ever since he had first moved into the manor as a boy. Alfred would always be on his case about picking up his laundry or tidying up the action figures that fell off his bookshelf.. And now that Dick was an adult, Bruce knew by now to give Dick a few hours heads up before heading over so he could attempt to at least make the place  presentable  before company arrived. 

But on the other hand, this kind of “trashed” wasn't what Dick was oh-so fondly known for. Clothes tossed everywhere, hanging out from the skink and off the curtain rods. The left cushion of Dick's love seat had a giant cut in the material, like a giant scar, stuffing oozing out like blood. The TV Bruce bought him for Christmas was on its side, cracked and sporting a bullet hole through the center. 

The worst part was that the little compartment Dick had built into his apartment where he kept his suit was wide open, the contents thereof rummaged through carelessly. The suit and mask were missing, along with various high tech weapons, but the rest were strewn across the carpeted floor carelessly. Whoever had taken Dick; they knew he was Nightwing. Which meant Dick went down fighting as Nightwing. He wasn't holding back, he wasn't pretending to be anyone other than the powerhouse of a vigilante that he was. 

Which also meant that this was an all hands on deck sort of scenario. Dick's identity was compromised, which very well meant that everyone else could be figured out as well.

Besides, no one really minded being called in to help find Dick and the people responsible for his abduction. The compromised identities were just a font used to cover the fact that they all cared and were worried. 

One month, seven days, thirteen hours, and forty seven minutes. 

It shouldn't have taken that long, but it had. These people were professionals. The best of the best of Blüdhaven's underground ring of villains. Each hired for a specific purpose: figure out who Nightwing was, teach him a lesson, then take him out. Bruce, Tim, and Barbara could hardly find any information on the people who took Dick besides that. No cataloged fingerprints. No fines or tickets. No history of crime. Though, that wasn't at all shocking. Normally, the best of the best in the criminal world are people who haven't been caught yet. 

All of that added up as to why it took so long. Dick's initial abductors weren't even Blüdhaven natives. Just hired guns to barge in and grab him, then deliver him to the real people who wanted him out of the picture.

After one month, seven days, thirteen hours, and forty eight minutes, the people who had Dick now were a family of foreign mafia members who had set base in Blüdhaven generations ago. Dick had, apparently, about three months ago taken down a solid chunk of their scandals to make money by exposing the drug trade going on in one of the basements of Blüdhaven's many casinos. This was an act of revenge, and revenge was hardly quick and painless. 

Which could be a good and a  bad thing.

Good because it meant—as Bruce, Cass, and Tim scoped out a decently sized company building (near the casino Dick exposed) exactly one month, seven days, thirteen hours, and forty nine minutes after his abduction—that Dick still could be alive. 

Bad, because it meant—as Bruce pointed where he needed Cass and Tim to enter the building and talked over his comm to give instructions to the rest of the family exactly one month, seven days, thirteen hours, and forty nine minutes after his abduction—that when they do find Dick, he wouldn’t be in good shape. 

There wasn’t any doubt about it. However they find Dick, it would be gruesome. Bloody. Filled with the stench of confinement and the reek of torture. 

The most they could do now was make sure the one month, seven days, thirteen hours, and fifty minutes since Dick's abduction didn’t become much longer. 

Bruce entered through a large vent built into the side of the building while Tim and Cass followed suit silently. Jason and Duke were to enter from the rooftop while Steph and Damian entered through the sewers. There wasn’t any telling where Dick could be—if he was being held in this building in the first place—but the building was large enough for it to warrant a whole lot of searching. It might only stand half a dozen stories high, but it had just as many stories going down into the ground as a series of basements. Tim had a theory that a wall in the lowest basement could potentially lead to another secret floor down below. 

Though, the only way to know for sure was to go in and check themselves. Blüdhaven wasn't as… documented, believe it or not, compared to Gotham. Blüdhaven was founded on scam and lies. Corruption ran so deep that it was everywhere you walked, like every person walking the streets and breathing in the air were glitching codes of ones and zeroes hiding behind innocent, lifelike masks. 

Searching through the building took time; time Bruce wished they didn't have to spend. One month, seven days, thirteen hours, and fifty minutes turned into one month, seven days, fourteen hours, and two minutes rather quickly. Too quickly. They stuck to the shadows of the building and focused on avoiding being spotted just yet—but sneaking took time, and Dick didn't have a whole lot of time left to spare. 

If he was alive at all. 

No  . No he was alive. Bruce knew it. He was somewhere in this building and he was breathing and he was  alive . 

He had to be. 

Bruce didn't know what would happen next if he wasn't. 

Finally, one month, seven days, fourteen hours, and three minutes from Dick's kidnapping, Jason's voice whispered over the comms that he overheard a couple of grunts talking about Nightwing, and that he was in the secret level beneath the building like what Tim suspected existed. Bruce didn't say it out loud, but he was sure that Jason and Duke didn't overhear anything. They probably cornered a couple of mafia members in a dark, isolated janitor's closet and scared them until they spilled the information they wanted and probably soiled their pants during the process. Regardless, Bruce luckily took Tim's gut feelings into higher standing than most things. He, Tim, and Cass were already racing down into the basement levels. 

Steph and Damian said over the comms that they might take awhile to get there; as it turned out, these people were smart enough to set up motion detectors in the sewers connecting to the building. 

Eventually, they made it to the very bottom of the building where nothing was very interesting to see besides long, mostly empty hallways filled with various machines and generators keeping power to the activities above. There was the distant, muffled sound of loud electronic music, but that was to be expected because the floor above was a "secret" strip club. 

The three men playing cards on a dinky plastic table next to a bare chunk of wall was proof enough of Tim's theory of a secret room. Men with guns and a walkie sitting between them on top of the table  for all to hear easily, don’t normally sit in shadowed spaces of basements. They were guarding something. 

Bruce stepped  back, waving at Cassandra and Tim and pointing out their targets, but he didn't get far into his silent instructions before Cassandra lifted a hand to cut him off, her jaw set in a firm line beneath her dark mask. 

And Bruce understood. She had really stepped up to the plate when Dick was kidnapped one month, seven days, fourteen hours, and ten minutes ago. She had taken it upon herself to be happy and positive and comforting while everyone else could see that all she really wanted to do was throw something against the wall just to watch it shatter. Cassandra didn't like to express her frustrations in violence, but sometimes, Bruce knew she needed a group of bad guys to demolish. 

Silent as a whisper of death, Cass crept forward with her dangerous fists clenched. 

The fight didn't last long at all. Cass's abilities to fight were and always would be beyond comparison. Even compared to Bruce. He watched her take out each man with a quick series of punches aimed precisely where she wanted to hit and not a single hairsbreadth off. They didn't even get the chance to yell or call for help on that walkie of theirs. One moment they were playing what looked to be some sort of improvised version of go-fish with a classic 52 pack of playing cards created out of boredom, and the next they were taken out of commission by what could possibly be their newest worst nightmare. Cass brushed her hands together in front of her, silently saying that she had taken out the trash, and that it was Tim's turn.

Tim, for his part, didn't need to be told verbally of what he was expected to do. He just immediately ran past her, giving her a brief good natured pat on her shoulder as he did, and started to feel along the wall. 

It was always entrancing to watch Tim figure out complicated technology. The boy was a genius. He knew the in's and out's of 1s and 0s better than most everybody. Bruce was sure, no… he was  confident  that it was only a matter of time before Tim's abilities surpassed his own. 

If Tim hadn't already surpassed him. 

However, tackling a complicated problem alone could take time. Time they couldn't waste. Bruce stepped forward and looked at the hidden hand scanner Tim had discovered under a discreetly placed section of drywall. Tim looked up to him, a question in his eyes, and Bruce thought it over. 

They could try using the handprints of the men Cass took down and risk their biological data not being in the system and setting off an alarm, or they could spend more time taking the scanner apart and searching for the right wires to trick.

Risky or long. Quick or safe. 

Bruce gave a nod, letting his shoulders fall ever so slightly as he lowered himself to his knees and pulled out a set of tools from his utilities belt. Tim nodded back, his eyebrows falling down to umbrella over his masked eyes in concentration. 

It took time. The panel was good. Better than many that Bruce had run into during his years of Batman. Unhackable, most would say. 

Those people haven't met Tim though, and neither had the now picked and flashing green handprint scanner. 

There was a mechanical whirr of practically silent pistons and locks becoming undone. Bruce and Tim stepped back to watch the section of wall lower into the floor, showing a set of stairs that went down directly in front of them for several steps, then turned 180° to continue going down out of sight. 

The walkie behind them crackled to life; a voice asking what that noise was. 

The voice sounded recognizably American, which made it clear they weren't actually dealing with the actual mafia. Just a group of crime-doers that probably descended from the original gangsters in Las Vegas, only difference was that their ancestors didn't make it big and decided Blüdhaven was much easier to do crime in. 

" I told you I didn't want any interruptions  !" The man yelled through the walke speakers. "  I'm not done with him yet -"

Bruce felt his heart clench at the sounds that followed that followed. A Spark of electricity. A  scream . 

Bruce disregarded the walkie...  forced himself to. One month, seven days, fourteen hours, and thirteen minutes since Dick's kidnapping, and Bruce was sprinting down the stairs, his feet barely touching the ground as he went. His movement's as silent as a owl's feathers, his cape flowing behind him like he controlled the shadows himself. 

Running down the staircase barely took any time at all. Within seconds, he found himself looking down one long hallway built like a bunker. Dick had to be in one of these rooms. He just  had  to be. 

Heart in his throat, Bruce, Tim, and Cass spread out into the floor, opening door after door, looking for Dick. Behind most of the doors were crates and boxes and bags and  piles  of drugs, and as Bruce found himself slowly approaching the end of the secret basement he couldn't help but feel intense worry that he had gotten something wrong. That Dick wasn't here. 

But he  heard  Dick scream over that walkie. Dick was alive. Dick  was here. 

He just had to find the correct room. 

And it was just his luck that the last door he opened was the correct one. 

One month, seven days, fourteen hours, and seventeen minutes. 

That was how long it took Bruce to get here, in this doorway, standing with widening eyes behind his cowl's lenses, watching as a man leaned over a table, his hands wrapped around something struggling and writhing in binds. Lining the walls were groups of people, all holding guns and looking comically shocked as Batman barged into the room. Across the room, sitting in a chair to have the best view of the present torture session, was a big rat of man smoking a cigar.

And Bruce saw Dick. He saw Dick's bare chest, his hands tugging on the binds keeping him pinned, his ankles twisting as a natural instinct while fighting to breathe. He saw the man holding Dick's neck between his squeezing fingers. He saw the dried blood splattered over Dick's body. He saw the missing fingernails. He saw the cuts and burns and the broken nose. He saw the pale skin. The weight loss. Every single rib countable if you smeared away the blood.

Red.

He saw red. 

He charged in, his teeth grinding so hard that Leslie would be furious to keep himself from screaming, and punched the man choking…  torturing  Dick across the jaw. The man went flying, roughly hitting the ground as Dick gurgled out a desperate gasp. The rat of a man stood up from his chair, eyes wide and jugular waggling under his butted chin. Immediately, guns were aimed at Batman, thugs all here to protect his boss while he watched what must be his daily torture session. The fat, pathetic excuse of a mafia boss—who Bruce would call a scumbag if that didn't insult all scumbags across the universe—scrambled backwards, lips flapping in a short, flipped sentence that Bruce had heard many, many times to where he almost had to hold back an eye roll. 

But he was too  furious  to roll his eyes now. Not even as the gangster screamed "GET HIM!"

In fact, he hardly even heard those two words yelled at him with a thick sausage of a finger pointed his way. All he could hear were the strangled  sobs  of Dick behind him as he ran forward, swinging his cape to catch the first bullet, throwing his fist to hit the gangster right across his cheek. From then on, it was chaos. Bullets everywhere, shouts and cries harmonizing with the sparks. The singular light above ended up being blown out by a stray bullet around the same time Bruce heard Cass and Tim finally enter. 

Bruce worked like an angel of death. 

No, not of death. 

His blows as if lightning struck the air around him, his will like howls of wind summoned from hell itself. He was the conjuror of destruction, of danger, of catastrophe. He was worse than death. 

He was the crumbling tower, sent to reign down upon those who had thought they could climb too high. 

He blinked, and he found everything silent besides the hands grasping on his shoulder, trying to tug him away from the beaten and broken face of the gangster. Bruce hadn't even realized that time had passed. That the battle was over besides him punching this monster over and over and over in the face. Disgusted—with the man, with himself—he shoved him away and watched so heartlessly it almost frightened him as the unconscious rat splattered onto the grimy floor in a mess of sweaty and bruised limbs. 

He turned towards Cass, her sympathy and understanding lining every inch of her frame, even with the black kevlar covering her features. He turned past her, remembering the whole reason he was here in the first place even though he had never really forgotten. He quickly rushed towards the table Dick was still restrained down onto. 

His eyes were closed, his chest heaving, trickles of water escaping the corners of his eyes and trailing down the sides of his head in more than a month's worth of dust, grime, and blood. His fists were clenched, toes curled, muscles that showed too detailed under the lack of body fat straining weakly against the leather belts keeping him immobile.

Bruce reached forward without thinking and placed his hands on the belt keeping Dick's left arm pinned down above his head. 

Before finding Dick, Bruce had expected a great, many things. A body on one end, a simply trapped and relatively unharmed bored young man on the other. Batman was known amongst the superhero community for always having a plan A through Z for every possible scenario and outcome.

Yet, for some reason, he hadn't ever expected Dick to flinch under Bruce's touch during rescue. 

It was like he was suddenly touching fire the moment Dick cried out, the moment Bruce's fingers just barely brushed the inside of his wrist. He yanked his hands away and stared with wide eyes as Dick broke into more sobs. 

"Stop," Dick hiccuped through his cries; his voice rough like a thousand shards of glass, "stop,  please . No more- I can't-"

The young man dissolved into bubbly suds made out of tears, babbling and begging and beginning to openly weep as he begged for the pain to end. 

"I can't- stop- I- puh-please! Please, no more- n-no more- I  can't- "

The realization crashed into Bruce like a rocket. Dick… didn't realize rescue had come. All he had known for the past month and-  and  was pain and torture and blood. Did he have any hope of rescue left after all this time? Or did he lose it weeks ago, when help had still not come? How long did it take for his quips to fall flat? For his screams to no longer remain silenced? How long did he force himself to stay strong before he must have come to the false realization that no one was coming, and that he would die here?

How long ago had Bruce failed Dick? 

Because Dick not only didn't realize he was  safe  now, but he thought Bruce would hurt him somehow by simply touching the inside of his wrist. 

Dick thought he was going to be tortured. Again. And again. And again. No hope of help. So much pain and suffering in his soul that it ending here and now wasn't even a thought at the back of his mind, hidden behind tearfully closed eyes. 

Bruce took off his cowl, ignoring the way Tim began to whisper urgently towards Cass and into the comm unit. 

"Dick," Bruce tried, forcing his voice to remain calm and soothing, locking all the worry and gravel into a keyed box at the back of his throat. He approached slowly now, but Dick continued to cry anyways. " Chum , I'm here."

A broken gasp. Bruce couldn't take it. 

He reached forward again and gently curled his fingers into Dick's blood matted and sweaty hair, stroking softly like he had always done whenever one of his children ended up in a hospital bed. Dick cried out like he'd been stabbed the moment Bruce touched him, but Bruce didn't back away this time. 

"It's okay, Dick," he soothed, rubbing Dick's scalp through his thick locks like how Dick had always loved because... because Bruce didn't  know  what to do now. "It's me, it's Bruce."

Dick continued sobbing, no recognition. Nothing. Just pain and sorrow and fear. 

"Chum, open your eyes-"

Heaving breaths rattling a chest splattered in red. 

Bruce didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to  do-

But luckily, Tim came up then, giving a smart idea like he always did. 

"We should sedate him," Tim said, his voice barely above a sacred whisper. "Get him at least home and comfortable."

"He's hurting," Cass added, "and scared. Sleep will be good."

Bruce looked down at Dick who was still struggling and crying and babbling and begging words that needn't be spoken now. Not ever again. He took a deep breath then retreated from Dick's hair and reached into his utility belt for a small vial of sedative that he kept on him for a variety of reasons. It didn't take long to take out and fill a clean syringe then  tap the sides to get the bubbles out. It was almost methodical to do so.  This : he knew how to do. He could be given a drug and a needle and someone to stick it in and he could do it without missing a beat. 

But his heart still skipped one when he looked back up to Dick. 

Knowing that it would be evermore unpleasant the longer he allowed this to go on, he shut off the fatherly part of his brain that just wanted to gather Dick up and smother him in forehead kisses. He reached forward and ignored Dick's rekindled cries as he tilted Dick's head to the side to get a better aim at his neck. 

Dick's begging and sobbing increased in pitch and desperateness the moment Bruce stuck the needle into his neck, but thankfully the sedative worked quickly, and soon Dick was little more than a still bag of bones, limp against the table, eyelids flickering in what was perhaps an immediate nightmare.

"What the hell?" A new voice called.

"Oh shit," another agreed. 

It seemed that Jason and Duke had arrived. 

Bruce didn't welcome them though. Dick was… none of his kids were more important than the other, but Dick's situation called for more attention. He quickly got the straps off from Dick's wrists, sparing a thankful glance towards Duke as the young man ran forward to undo the ones on Dick's ankles. The moment Dick was finally free of his binds, Bruce carefully began to cradle Dick towards his body, holding him like a parent would their young child. Head tucked under Bruce's chin, back supported by one of Bruce's arms, legs curled around the other. Bruce held him as tightly and as closely as he dared, listening to nothing but the sound of him breathing as he turned to the others, noting how both Steph and Damian had finally arrived as well, covered in questionable stains and both looking openly upset and shocked. 

Bruce could count the amount of times on one hand that Damian had looked that small, young, and lost. Trust Dick to always be the apple of that boy's eye, trust Dick to be the one to get Damian to look that way. Like a scared, thirteen year old child. 

"Let's go home," Bruce said, and they all agreed one by one. It most certainly would be a pain to get back out of the building without being detected, but Bruce could sense a new fire inside each and every one of them. 

The quickest way out was through the front doors. The people inside this building hurt one of their own. They were all itching for a fight now, more than ever. 

Who was Bruce to stand in their way? This building could crumble to the ground for all he cared. 

As long as he got Dick and the rest of the family home, safe and sound and on the road to recovery, nothing else mattered. 

Not a single, god damned thing.

-o-o-o-o-

Woah? You made it to the end? A reblog would be nice... Haha jk... Unless 👀

[tired-college-student-writing]

Tim’s Secret Weapon Pt. 4

I’ve been slightly obsessed with @ozmav​ ‘s Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng pairing as of late, and just saw a post that has inspired me more than anything else has in months, so I felt the need to write it

Summary- Tim has always seen the numbers floating above people’s heads, been able to perceive their threat levels with a single glance. After being a hero for so long he thought he was desensitized to seeing high numbers above people’s heads until Damian brings a new friend home.

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4 (HERE)

Part 5

_______________________________________________________________________

“Yup!” Jason popped the ‘p’ before holding up the book Tim had given him, “Who’s ready for storytime?” 

“What do you mean Tim is afraid I would throw him out?” Bruce pushed even as Jason led them towards one of the desks, “I want to help him with-”

“Yeah I’m gonna stop you there,” Jason cut him off, eyes hard as he set the book down with an uncharacteristic amount of care,“Tim was very offended by what we thought was going on with him and it just made him more sure that all of us were going to leave him behind as his shitty parents did. So let’s just cut to the chase and cool off before he seriously decides to run off before we can go talk to him because I’m pretty sure even after talking to him for twenty minutes, he’s still around seventy-five percent sure that’s going to be a better option than waiting around.” 

Jason had never seen the energy of a room shift so fast, the anger and bloodlust that had been suffocating since Dick uncovered the file on Marinette vanished into a deep rippling uncertainty. If there was one unspoken rule of the household, it was that no previous trauma will knowingly be replicated. It’s why Jason always makes a point of leaving his guns in the cave and never points them passed Bruce unless it’s life or death. Why no one touched the trapeze unless Dick was going up with them and they always used a net, no matter how good their aerial skills were. Why no one spoke to Jason in angry or stern Arabic. No one told Damian he was overreacting, especially when it was about illness or injuries. 

No one was allowed to make Tim think they were abandoning him.   

Dick looked stricken at the very idea, “Jay, why is Tim so scared?” 

“Short answer? Tim’s Meta.” 

The whole room froze, eyes flying wide, making Jason chuckle, “Yeah that was my response to.”

“How long?” Bruce asked, hand gripping the back of his chair so hard, Jason wondered if he was going to break it. 

“From what he said, he was born with his power, it’s always on and pretty impossible for him to block out.”

Damian’s face scrunched, “And father always made it clear that he doesn’t like Metas in Gotham.”  

“Fuck,” Dick swore, turning to punch the cave wall, “How the actual shit did we miss this? We’re fucking detectives goddamn it!” 

Seeing Dick lose it like that made Jason pause. It was rare to see the carefree brother truly get mad about anything, let alone for him to cuss up a storm, he always did prefer those filler cusses that make the rest of them groan. 

But then again Damian looked pained and Bruce was sinking into the Bat-computer chair looking lost as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I never meant it like this,” Bruce whispered, “I just didn’t want anyone else coming to Gotham expecting to be able to fix it overnight. Did I really come off anti-meta?” 

“I…” Jason winced, stopping to think, “I never thought so, but I can see how Tim thought you might be. We all need to talk to him, but I promised I’d explain some of this shit like Tim did to me, and look through his book so that we don’t all bombard him with questions.” 

The four shared a look before they all surrounded the table as Jason began. He told them of the numbers, the skill Tim had that he never shared. After they opened the book they found that it was more complex than just that. 

The entries started off very rudimentary, clearly written by a small child, the dates claiming that Tim began this journal when he was merely six years old. They detailed the color, font, and number of the person he had met. A few of the higher ranks having little ideas next to them on the cause, but as the list grew and the handwriting even outed, there were itemized lists on the reason for each number above a 5. 

By the time they reached Bruce’s they were pretty dumbfounded as they read through Tim’s confusion and fear at the number that broke the code he’d knew through his whole life, his reason section was filled with sentences of ideas, instead of the short bullet points, trying to ration it out. 

The most confusing part of it was he ruled things out that he couldn’t have known, insider trading and corruption would have been a logical conclusion for him to draw of the Billionaire he knew nothing about but he ruled them out instantly, not even bothering to consider they might be part of the reason. 

Not to mention when he actually put it together. 

“His power works on broadcasts as well?” Bruce mused, “I know I never saw he was never on the streets when I was out during this time period,” 

“Adding it to the list of questions,” Dick said as he typed it out into the sheet he had made when they started asking too many questions only Tim could answer.  

“Never mind that,” Damian brushed off, “Look at the traits he listed, all listed at the same time from the looks of the ink but if the date is to be believed, this is from before Todd was debuted as Robin, how did he know you had a mastery in hacking, spoke multiple languages and stunt flight?” 

All of them froze at those words, hunching over it to look at the words. 

There was no logical way Tim could know any of those things. Most of Batman’s skill set could be guessed through out the rumors and gossip that flew since the caped crusader started his reign of the city, but those skill sets still weren’t widely known to the public. 

“I…” Bruce shook his head, “Add it to the list, we have a lot more of the book to get through to worry about this now. We should try and finish the book. 

But the issue popped up again and again as the pages went on, each hero he met he knew their skills down to the littlest detail, things he shouldn’t be able to know, especially before he became the third Robin. 

He knew Clark was Superman when he met the reporter first.

He knew Diane was made of clay before the woman had ever given away that little tidbit.

He knew that Barry was a wiz when it came to criminology before the speedster had ever given up his identity. 

He knew Arthur had low-level empathic abilities that went beyond sea life before Arthur was even considered a hero. 

They were only two-third of the way through the book, arguing over how The Commissioner could possibly know their identities, let alone why it would make his number rise so quickly when not even Bruce’s number had done so when he learned the other League member’s identities, when a stern voice cut through their thought. 

 “Gentlemen, There’s a bit of a situation that Master Tim and I discovered that could use your attention.” Alfred cut in, making them turn, stopping when they saw Tim practically sprint to the Bat computer, pointily looking at the wall to avoid looking at them, his shoulders so tight they shock.

“Tim?” Dick asked, concern dripping from his words as he started towards the younger man only to freeze as Tim visually flinched away from the word, curling inward as he frantically typed away on the keyboard. 

Before any of them tried to break the silence again the giant screen lit up to show a battle play out. A young girl dressed in a red and polka-dotted outfit flipping and twisting out of the way of the pages thrown like ninja stars at her, a yoyo used to propel her, eyes filled with laughter behind her mask. Her moves were agile and practiced, as another figure, a boy her same age dressed in skin-tight black leather entered the frame. 

“I figured out why Marinette is a 15,” He finally managed out, making the bats’, minus Jason, heads snap to him.

A 15? 

The brat couldn’t just have a normal girlfriend, could he?

No, he had to have someone that shattered Tim’s power completely.

 And he had no idea why, until now. 

They really couldn’t blame him for being obsessive. 

“I couldn’t find out why Mari was so powerful,” Tim rambled on, “But Alfred helped me realize that she’s a hero too. A hero with the power of the god of creation on her side, which makes sense for why she completely broke my, uh, my power. She’s been-” 

“Tim,” 

“-fighting a supervillain,” Tim just continued as if he hadn’t heard Bruce, his voice skipping up a few pitches, “ who also uses the power of a god to help him make others into villains to do his bidding. They’ve been locked in battle for years now. Years! We really should have noticed before now, but better late then never right? Heh, she has some allies though so it’s not like she was fighting on her own or anything, and-”  

“Drake,” Damian cut in, ducking past Dick to grab Tim by the shoulder to spin him, staring into his eyes with the type of harsh determination only the demon spawn seemed to be able to, ignoring the quacking fear in Tim’s own eyes, “I am the byproduct of the daughter of one of Father’s greatest enemies drugging him. I was raised will one goal in mind, to be the ultimate weapon to take down all that stood in the way of the League of Assassins, and yet Father, Grayson, Todd, Pennyworth and you gave me safety and taught me why my grandfather was wrong. Todd was murdered by a clown with psychopathic tendencies, was brought back by the magic that my grandfather has a monopoly on, went crazy with Lazarth sickness and thought the best course of action was to become a crimelord in the very city he vowed to protect, going as far as trying to shoot Father, the man he saw as an older brother and you, the boy he was convinced Father had only brought into the circle to die as he had, and yet once the sickness faded Father welcomed back in with open arms, shedding tears for the child he thought he had lost. Father may have made it clear that he’s not a fan of metas operating in the city, but you’re a moron if you believe for a second that means he’s going to disown you or take Red Robin away from you. You’re also lost all my respect if you think this means I or any of the others that dawn the bat moniker are going to feel any different about you for having these powers.” 

Tim’s mouth opened and closed several times after Damian’s speech had come to a close as the others waited for him to break the silence of the cave. All he could feel was his hands trembling as his eyes welled up. 

Damian was still looking at him before sighing, “You really are an idiot,” 

He wanted to retort, wanted to bite out a response as he blinked back the tears but he suddenly found Damian’s arms wrapped around his waist, a tight grounding embrace, the younger boy’s chin resting on his shoulder. 

Tim wasn’t sure he was breathing, his whole body shaking like it was trying to shatter into a million pieces. The brat, Damian, the one person he thought would gladly cast him aside given the slightest of reason to was… 

“You’re family, Tim,” Damian stern voice cut through his mental frenzy, “If I’ve learned one thing since moving to Gotham, it’s that you don’t give up on family, not for anything, and certainly not for something like this.”   

Tim felt something inside him break and the next thing he knew he was sobbing into Damian’s shoulder the pair on their knees in the middle of the cave, gripping Damian back like he thought if he let go the boy would vanish. Slowly as he felt his breathing calm down and his sobs fade he could feel more arms surrounding him. The entire bat family was surrounding him, silently holding him through his breakdown. 

He pulled back, scrubbing his eyes as his family slowly untangled from around him. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, voice scratchy from the tears, “I guess I should have known none of you would hate me but… I’ve been so scared that I’d lose you guys too. I didn’t want to risk it, I couldn’t risk it.” 

He flinched slightly when a large hand squeezed his shoulder looking up into Bruce’s eyes, softened by a love that could destroy the world if his child was hurt. A love that none of the Waynes needed to put words to because of looks like this. 

Glancing back to his brothers he saw the love in Bruce’s eyes reflected in theirs, all of them accepting him and loving him still. 

The weight Tim had carried for as long as he knew to grow lighter as a small smile worked its way onto his face. 

His eyes burning with the same intense love for his family back at them. 

For the first time in a long time, Tim knew without a doubt 

It would be okay. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Tim couldn’t stop the whimper from falling from his lips as Marinette’s class came pouring out of the doors of the school.

All of the Wayne boys had decided to surprise Marinette by showing up at her class when it let out, in addition to not wanting to wait to reveal they knew her secret. It wasn’t hard to get all of them to Paris merely days after Tim’s secret came to light, especially since Bruce was planning on checking up on the Paris branch of Wayne Enterprises the following week before everything happened. Expanding the trip last minute to include all of them had taken little effort, and all of their suits were tucked away in their hotel suites, waiting to be dawned once they got Marinette alone. 

Tim was ready to turn back now though and for a very good reason. 

 In the normal sea of threes and fours, normally Marinette stood out with her overwhelmingly soft pink 15, but now...

The tanned girl that had hoards of kids surrounding her had an obnoxious copper 9 floating above her, the font looking like a tiger had scratched it into the very fabric of space. 

A trio of students, a bulky boy, a small pink-haired girl, and a dark-skinned nerdy-looking boy, were messing around as pale numbers circled their heads, a pair of stark white 12s over the boys and an icy blue 13 over the girl. 

A pair of girls, one blonde and one of Asian descent, were bickering as they made their way down the steps,  a canary yellow daintily drawn 14 for the blonde and deep burgundy calligraphed 13 for the more stoic girl.   

And the blonde boy Marinette was happily conversing with, looking even more softspoken and sweet than the baker girl.

He had a venomous green 15 swirling over him in it’s rounded bubble-like font. 

His brothers glanced at him warily. 

“Everything okay Timmy?” Jason asked, eyes flitting over the crowed on instinct, looking for the threat that spooked him. 

“I’ll tell you later,” He groaned back, “... but keep an eye on the girl in the orange jacket, she feels slimy from all the way over here,” 

His brothers nodded, but even so, Tim felt a migraine coming on. 

For once Tim wished for an alien invasion so he didn’t have to deal with this bullshit.

_______________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @vixen-uchiha @iggy-of-fans @mewwitch @roseinbloom02 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mochinek0 @royalchaoticfangirl @09shell-sea09 @mystery-5-5 @derpingrainbow @aloha-posts-stuff @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @maribat-archive @blue-peach14 @kae690 @zazzlejazzle @vincentvangoose @be-happy-every-day-please @xxmadamjinxx @celestiacq @peculiarlylostdreamer @dani-ari @melicmusicmagic @themcclan @nyctamaximoff @nataladriana9 @drama-queen-supreme @miraculousbelladonna @urbanpineapplefarmer @graduatedmelon @lexysama @hecate-hallow @ki117h3dr4g0n @vinerlover @interobanginyourmom @bluefiredemon @imanerddealwith @tinybrie @clumsy-owl-4178 @shizukiryuu @whogavemeaninternet @schrodingers25 @lunar-wolf-warrior @urbanpineapplefarmer @xxmadamjinxx @crazylittlemunchkin @littleredrobinhoodlum

[queerbutstillhere]

Damian never really intended to make an announcement to his family about his courtship with Jonathan Kent.

He had, of course, asked the Kryptonian permission to court his son, and the teens mother, but he never addressed the situation to his own father. It simply wasn't necessary. Bruce never asked his consent on the dozens of women he had dated since Damian arrived, why should Damian ask him? Besides. He had an excellent judge of character, and everyone who had ever met Jon knew he was the purest person alive. He knew Damian's background and his current life, and never judged him for it. He was, in a word, perfect.

Jon had assumed Damian told his family, and with most the Wayne's and their various extended relations off on their own missions and agendas, no one ever saw them together doing anything that wasn't passed off as best friend stuff. So Jon never questioned it. He trusted, and assumed, his boyfriend has told his family members.

Only he hadn't. He had just deemed it irrelevant and then after a while, it never came up.

For three years.

They had moved in together, Jon's freshman year of college. Damian had moved to Metropolis, removing himself from Wayne Enterprises, from Batco, from everything. He made a name for himself without them, got a very nice job in Metropolis as vice president of a very well to do research company, moved into a huge loft apartment with his boyfriend and learned to live in the sun. Everyone in his family just accepted it. They never questioned the two, knowing they were "best friends" and it was only logical for the two to move in together, since they were "best friends" and knew each other's nightly activities.

It wasn't a far stretch for people, specifically the Metropolis Police, to figure out that the new masked vigilante who had suddenly appeared in Metropolis one night and started investigating crimes the police couldn't figure out was one of Batman's birds. Especially with the prior Robin, a muscular adult male, disappearing and briefly being replaced by thin teenage girl. But they soon learned that Damian was more then his past, as everyone else did.

A year or so after they had moved in together, they were planning to get married. They hadn't tried to surprise propose to each other, it would be nearly impossible, what with Damian being able to read Jon like a bold font newspaper, and Jon having super senses, and knowing Damian better then anyone else in the world. They had a talk about it over dinner, agreeing that they were ready to be wed. They briefly discussed it with the Kent's, who were overjoyed, and not a month after, sent wedding invitations.

It wasn't until a week later, they were laying in bed after a long day patrolling when Damian heard a thump. It had come from downstairs, in their living room. Jon grumbled and sat up, clearly having been on the verge of sleep.

"Its your dad," Jon stated, standing and reaching for a pair of pants.

"What does he want? He never comes to Metropolis anymore."

"Dunno. Maybe he has complaints about our wedding venue."

Damian was pulling on a shirt when he remembered.

"Oh."

"Oh?" Jon looked over, mussing up his wet hair.

Footsteps were coming up the stairs.

"Ah ha."

"Babe, what's wrong?" Jon asked, clearly concerned.

"It occurs to me. . . ." Damian said gently, knowing how Jon would react. "I may have neglected to inform my family that we were dating."

Jon's jaw dropped, eyes almost bulging out of his skull.

"We've been dating for four years!" He screeched in horror.

"Yes. I am aware," Damian said dryly, moving towards the door.

"How did you not tell them!?!"

"It never came up, and they're surprisingly oblivious."

"Holy shit, your dad is gonna kill me. And your brothers and your aunt and- oh my God."

Damian rolled his eyes.

"Calm down, Habibi, I'm not going to let anyone touch you, not this close to our wedding."

He pulled open the door and walked out, meeting the Batman at the top of the stairs.

"Father."

"Damian."

He glanced behind Bruce to spot his latest ward, the blonde haired teen looking around the apartment in amazement.

"Can I help you?" Damian asked, tilting his head to the left slightly.

He heard Jon walking over, and a hand gently touched the small of his back. Bruce reached up, pulling off his cowl, eyes flickering over the both of them.

"Can we talk?"

"Of course."

Damian brushed past his father easily on the wide industrial style stairs, jogging down the metal steps and heading to the kitchen.

"Lacey," he greeted with a nod, passing the teen now wearing the Robin uniform.

"Hi," she breathed out.

Damian went to the kitchen, starting a kettle of water boiling.

"Your siblings are on their way."

"I expected no less."

"Oh god," Jon whined, Damian looked up to see him standing at the bottom of the stairs, a hand in his hair.

Damian rolled his eyes and simply adjusted for the additional company, getting out more tea cups, as well as starting the coffee pot.

An awkward silence settled over the room, and then one by one, his siblings filed into the apartment until the sofas were full and everyone had a steaming hot mug in hand. Jon stalked over, looking anxious and snagged Damian's hand, pulling him to the furthest corner, the one that held their small round dining table that overlooked the city.

"You're not fucking with me, you never told them?" Jon hissed.

"No."

"Why not."

"It slipped my mind, and you never asked me about it."

"I assumed you had told them or they already knew! They're detectives!"

Damian shrugged. "Well, I never told them, and with our decision to keep our relationship out of the public eye, it was probably never suspected. After all, we were best friends first."

"You're telling them. I can't handle this."

Damian hummed, lightly patting his fiance's cheek.

"You'll be fine. Go sit down."

Jon obeyed, snagging his cup of tea and walking away, slumping in his armchair. Damian followed, lightly sitting on the arm of Jon's chair, looking at each of his family members, only nine of the surprisingly large bunch. Duke seemed the most amused by this situation. Lacey, the new Robin, seemed a little intimidated by being in a room with all her predecessors.

"What is the matter, then?" Damian asked finally.

"Tim?" Bruce said, looking at his third child.

The vigilante stood, reaching into a pocket and producing an envelope folded in half. He held it out to Damian, who took it, pretending he didn't know what it was, as if he hadn't designed the entire thing and would be able to recognize it on the spot. Jon gave a tiny whimper, letting his head fall on Damian's side.

"Oh quit," Damian muttered, smacking the man's knee.

He pulled the invitation out, eyes scanning over it quickly, looking for defects in the soft blue over white card. Of course there were none, he smile fondly, he had loved the design the moment it was in his hands and he still did. The invitation was well worn from having lived in Drake's belt, and he was sure it had been looked at many a times.

"And?" He said, looking up. "If you are all unable to make the date, im sure we can arrange for another time."

Jason busted out laughing, then swore as he spilled coffee in his lap.

"Don't get coffee on my sofa, Todd," Damian commented, passing the invitation back to Tim.

"Damian." Bruce was clearly displeased.

Damian arched an eyebrow.

"This is real?" Dick asked, motioning at the invitation which had been set on the coffee table.

"Why would we send out a fake wedding invitation."

"Oh, maybe because no one except Alfred knew you two were even dating!" Stephanie exclaimed.

"Oh so you did tell someone."

"Ah. No. . . I didn't. Alfred is just far more observant then everyone else."

Jon laughed bitterly and shook his head, sipping his tea.

"Damian. Explain."

"I mean, how long have you two?" Barbara motioned at them vaguely.

"Four years," Damian answered easily.

They all rightfully looked shocked.

"And you never told us?!" Dick hissed, offended.

"I didn't see that it would matter much, I wasn't dating him for your approval, and still do not need it. He never mentioned it so I never remembered to address it. You should be more disappointed in yourselves that you never figured it out in four years."

"I knew," Cassandra said finally. "Saw how you acted."

Damian nodded while Dick whirled on her, scolding her for not bringing it up. Bruce was just watching them, a mask of curiosity replacing his cowl, then he turned his gaze to Jon.

"Did your parents know?"

"From day one," the Kryptonian responded, an arm sliding around Damian's hips.

Bruce scoffed and shook his head.

"I can't believe this. Four years?!?" Jason exclaimed, looking shocked.

"I mean, its really not that surprising if you think about it," Duke inputted.

"All the signs we missed!" Tim bemoaned, slumping into his seat.

They all continued making comments and talking over each other. Damian and Jon sighed, looking at each other.

"Children," Bruce snapped and everyone went silent, looking up at the one common factor this ragtag group. Well, except for Jon. He was here for another Wayne. "Were you ever going to tell us?"

"We did." Damian gestured at the invitation.

"How the hell did you forget that you hadn't told us?" Tim asked.

"I got busy."

Jason snorted, looking away, mouthing some sarcastic comment. Damian ignored him.

"It was not an intentional act, to leave you clueless for so long. I simply forgot, to the point where I didn't even remember that you didn't know. So when we sent out the invitations I didn't think twice about it."

They didn't seem to know what to say to that, Jon finally inputted.

"I really thought he had told you, or I assumed he would, which is why I never brought it up either. We wanted to keep our relationship away from the public, and I guess you guys accidentally became a part of that group."

A little giggle came from Lacey, and everyone looked at her.

"I'm sorry, I think this is just really funny," she said. "Damian, I think its lovely that you're getting married, congratulations, mazel tov, live long and prosper and all that."

Damian felt himself smiling slightly, something he did a lot these days.

"Thank you, Lacey."

She giggled lightly, looking down as she tried to stiffle her laughs and still her shaking shoulders.

One by one, the rest of the family gave their congratulations, though still dumbfounded by the news, and made their way out, off the balcony. Bruce and Lacey were the last to leave, and he sent the teen out to wait for him.

"Damian. . . " He said with a sigh, glancing at Jon.

Damian felt something like anger, protectiveness, bubble up in him. He knew his fathers opinions of metas. He often shared them, but Jon. Jon was something else.

"Father, I'm marrying him. With or without your approval."

Jon's hand squeezed his hip.

Bruce sighed again, shaking his head.

"That's not it, Damian. You don't have to rush to be defensive all the time. I just wish you would've told me, I would have supported you the whole time, and I will from this moment on."

Damian nodded. Jon's hand moved to his back, pushing until Damian took the hint and stood. Bruce was standing at the edge of the sofa, looking at his son. Jon's foot kicked his ankle. Damian sighed and walked closer, and when Bruce moved to hug him, he wrapped his arms around his father's back. Bruce hugged him for a moment before pulling away, giving a sad smile.

"All my boys are so grown up," he murmured softly, reaching up to pat Damian's head like he was a toddler.

Then he looked past Damian at Jon. "I don't need to tell you what will happen if you hurt him."

"If I hurt him, I shall well and truly deserve it."

Bruce nodded, satisfied. He turned and walked towards the balcony.

"Damian, I love you. And if you need anything, you know you can call."

"I know, Father."

Bruce turned, tightly shutting the balcony door behind him. Damian sighed and turned back to Jon.

"Well, they know, and no one tried to kill you, satisfied?"

"Oh, no, I'm terrified that I'll wake up tomorrow with a chunk of Kryptonite in my face, but," Jon shrugged, standing and beginning to gather abandoned mugs.

"You're dramatic."

Silently, they cleaned up and then turned off lights, heading back to bed. Jon laid down and watched Damian move around, fussing with a few things in their room for a bit before finally calming and turning off the light. He came and laid down, facing his fiance.

"I love you, Damian."

"And I you, Habibi."

Jon hummed, rolling over and stretching, kissing Damian softly. In a months time they'd be husband's, and neither one could imagine life any other way. Damian secretly believed, if such things were true, they were soulmates, destined to always be lovers in every universe and timeline. He would, of course, never say this out loud, but he could think it, and he would.

[arevolutionapproaches]

[IMAGE ID: The silhouettes of two boys appear in front of a large window with three main segments, with one boy sitting in front of the window segment on the left, and the other boy sitting in fron of the window segment on the right. The third window segment separates the two boys, both of whom are facing away from the viewer. Each segment of the window has twelve window panes, which are cracked and hazy, casting a yellow-white haze across the image. The boy on the left holds a pipe in his left hand, and the boy on the white has a large hoodie on. Centered across the bottom of the image is the text "To Hold Us Together" written in century font, and is colored in a teal reminiscent of that which Nightwing classically wears. END ID]

This is a snippet from my story To Hold Us Together that I did for the @batfam-big-bang . Read the full first chapter on Ao3

Big thanks to @nycis @sultcnah @just-a-little-in-over-my-head for being amazing betas

The fantastic header is made by @bisexualoftheblade

@enbykonel and @spiderman1644 also have made some amazing art!

To Hold Us Together

Trauma was common ground when it came to Dick’s family. It wasn’t right— wasn’t fair; they were all so young, so good, they didn’t deserve to be haunted by such horrors. But the lifestyle they all chose was not an easy one. You don’t get to try and save Gotham night after night and walk away scar free. You don’t get to put away criminals again and again without having to constantly watch your back. You make enemies. You lose friends. Sometimes you lose yourself. That’s just how it goes and Dick had learned to accept that, albeit reluctantly. By now, he had learnt to manage the shitstorm that was his brain, quite efficiently if he did say so himself. Plaster on the signature Golden Boy smile, overcompensate for B’s lack of affection among the boys with spontaneous hugs and hair ruffles, laugh at his own bad puns and be the big brother.

Being the big brother meant a lot of things; sometimes it meant giving Tim a comforting hug or watching movies well into the morning with Damian, or drinking hot chocolate at midnight with them both. Other times it meant breaking into the safehouse his more temperamental little brother was residing in. Now was one of those times. The clock had just struck five in the afternoon when Dick carefully slid through Jason’s living room window, making sure to bypass all the security measures he had in place— Jason could rival Bruce when it came to paranoia. Dick had only been in Jason's safehouse twice before, both times for the same reason he was there currently: to cook. It wasn’t that Jason couldn’t cook for himself, from what Dick could remember Jason had been well versed in helping Alfred cook dinner back when they were younger. Back before Jason…

Now Jason was busy, occupied, flighty. Growing up on the streets had made Jason, for lack of a better word, cautious. He had taught himself to never put down roots, never stay in one place for too long, never become dependent on anyone but himself. His way of thinking had changed slightly when he had become Robin, though he still hadn’t become dependent on others. (Dick had been far too aware of the way Jason hoarded food that he thought no one would notice missing or the way he would stash what Dick could only assume were “getaway’’ bags around the manor). Maybe comfortable was a better way to describe him? Trusting maybe too, if only in the loosest sense of the word. But that time had been fleeting and Jason… well he was back now, just more paranoid, more vigilant, more damaged.

And Dick couldn’t blame him one bit. The result was that Jason tended to fall short in the “self-care” department; he lived off a concerning mix of cheap alcohol and ready meals. His safehouse held little to no personal touches; a tatty couch, a rug that looked liked it had once been silky and blue when the original owner purchased it but was now ragged and a greyish colour, a cracked and stained coffee table, the bare minimum required to have a functioning kitchen and a temperamental television. Dick had only seen the conjoined kitchen and living room but he imagined the rest of the house was much of the same. To Jason, Dick was sure, it was convenient— but to Dick it just looked sad.

So Dick came round to cook. It was his way of playing brother to Jason, his way of extending an olive branch, so to say. Honestly he’d prefer it to be different; Dick would rather Jason trusted him, would rather give him advice and company and comfort. Jason would never let him. Violence was a language Jason spoke fluently, physical and verbal. Support? Trust? Bonding? Less so. Talking about the things they’ve both faced was like walking through a minefield and Dick was sure it was he who wouldn’t survive the interaction. Cooking was easy, it made him happy, allowed him to convince himself that Jason was doing okay, and that Dick was helping, in some way or another. It was safe.

His mother had taught him to cook when he was younger, she would tell him how her mother had taught her and how her mother had been taught by her mother before that. She would tell him how the food they cooked was the food of her people, of his people. Cooking had always been a communal event, all the people at Haly’s Circus would help and then they’d sit together and eat. Sometimes there would be singing and dancing, Dick could remember trying to copy the contortionists, much to everyone’s amusement. There would always be laughter, always be joy. There would always be people.

Read more:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26876902/chapters/65578225

[fanghuas]

How about,,,, prompt 11 with Dick and Jason? 👀👀

So after the,,,regrettable instance of writing and then deleting a bit in which there was no tattoo gun, but in fact, a tattoo of a gun, this is all I had the strength to produce. No idea what’s going on, hope you enjoy.

It had been, Dick reflected, a very long while since Jason had last pointed a gun at him. And even longer since he'd truly meant it as a threat. In time, Dick had come to peace with his brother's choice of weapon, given that it wasn't used to kill or against the rest of the family. But now – well, as Jason stood in Dick's doorway with a gun right in his face, Dick had to admit to feeling a certain amount of alarm, though not exactly for his own safety.

For one thing, the gun in question was...not of the kind that Jason usually favored, and for another, he had a strong suspicion that his little brother was thoroughly drunk, judging by the hazy glint in his eye and the fact that his first words, upon Dick opening the door, had been,

“I got a tattoo gun and I'm ready to make poor decisions.”

Dick caught him as he swayed forward and, quickly assessing the situation, decided, “Well, you'd better come in.”

Jason made an unhappy sound at being moved, but let Dick lead him to the sofa and collapsed heavily without another complaint. He held on to the tattoo gun, still pointing it at Dick as if it were a handgun, and narrowed his eyes as Dick disappeared into the kitchen to make some coffee. It was late enough that there wasn't any left over from the brew he'd made in the day, but not so late that Dick had been asleep.

“I want a tattoo,” Jason declared when Dick returned, with all the stubborness of a five year old.

“Sure,” Dick agreed easily, pressing a steaming mug into Jason's hands. Jason took it and hissed in surprise at the warmth, almost spilling the coffee on himself. He glared at the mug reproachfully and placed it on the table with a thud. “What kind of tattoo?”

“Fuck Batman,” Jason said at once, with conviction. “In big bold letters, maybe the Star Wars font, right over my heart.”

Dick frowned. “Are you guys fighting again?”

“No,” Jason dismissed, waving a hand, “but it's about time, right? Just like clockwork. And I can't very well remove my tattoo every time we make peace and then get it all over again. So it might as well be now.”

“I – what?” Dick asked. “That doesn't even – why do you assume you'll start fighting again?”

Jason just shrugged. “Isn't that how it always goes? 'm just being realistic.”

Dick felt a lump in his throat. “Drink your coffee,” he instructed, in the absence of some clever rebuttal. “It doesn't have to be like that, Jay.”

Jason had a sip of coffee and grimaced in open disgust. When he'd first started drinking coffee, only a few months before his death, and despite Bruce's disapproval, he'd always insisted on having it black. But of course, even then Bruce had known and Dick suspected that he only truly enjoyed the beverage when there was more milk in it than coffee and an equal amount of sugar. It was nice to see that some things didn't change.

“You're trying to fucking poison me,” Jason muttered darkly. “Okay, what if it said, 'I went to hell and all I got was this stupid tattoo'."

"Jason, no," Dick protested.

"Oh, I see how it is. First you poison me. Then you shoot down all my fun ideas. Well fuck you too then."

"Okay, first of all, how are you even planning on getting the tattoo? Because I'm pretty sure most parlors aren't open in this hour."

Jason waved the tattoo gun in his face. "That's what this is for, genius."

Dick wondered, briefly, whether he wanted to know where Jason got it, but decided that it was a conversation for another time. "I inferred as much, yeah. But it would probably be a bit more useful if there was a tattoo artist around, don't you think?"

"You do it," Jason said. "It's not like I want some fancy ass drawing. How hard can it be."

"Have you seen my handwriting?" Dick asked. "It's barely legible when I'm writing on paper, much less if I was trying to stab you with a needle."

"That's not how tattoos work."

"Isn't it, though?"

"You should get a tattoo. Of a dick. ‘Cause you're a dick. And your name -"

"I can connect the dots, thanks," Dick said with a snort. "Look, I'll make you a deal. You still wanna get either of these in the morning, then I will come with you to the parlor and, vigilante's honor, get a tattoo of a dick."

Jason narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "You're bluffing."

“Try me.”

"Hmm. It has to be somewhere really embarrassing."

Dick raised an eyebrow. "Can you think of a placement that wouldn't be embarrassing?"

"Fair," Jason conceded. "Okay. Deal."

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

Here is a fun game: class the Batfamily from best to worst on their handwriting

Let’s do this a couple ways.

First, a comment on canon: recent comic books tend to use fonts for characters’ handwriting. The alternative would be an artist drawing it in themselves. Sometimes that happens too.

In general, characters have handwriting that’s easy to read, and therefore pretty neat. Why? Well, it’s not conducive to a story to have indecipherable handwriting. If the reader can’t understand it, what’s the point of putting it in there?

Another note: comics are inconsistent. As with everything comic-related, handwriting is going to change from artist to artist and writer to writer. 

With that out of the way, here’s some handwriting samples. As always, this is by no means a complete list– just panels that I either had on file or knew how to locate off the top of my head. 

Dick:

That’s two signatures

Handwriting from personal notes

And a note to Babs. I personally headcanon Dick with truly terrible handwriting when he’s writing just for himself. I like to think it literally looks like this:

Babs:

A note to Dick, read aloud. 

Now Jason:

From the Old Stuff ™

And the New Stuff ™. Again, a font.

Tim:

Notes to himself

A note on Jim’s back

I dunno if this one technically counts as handwriting, but it’s fun, so we’ll include it.

Cass:

A card

Steph:

This one may not be valid. A lot of Steph’s Spoiler inner monologue is written in this font, like a journal entry. I personally think it’s supposed to be her handwriting.

Damian:

A bunch of notes, all in a font. 

Bonus Bruce:

So here’s my final canon comments: everybody’s pretty much looks similar, and it’s all inconsistent. 

My headcanons:

Bruce: good handwriting

Dick: okay handwriting when he knows other people will have to read it, otherwise absolutely terrible. Just scribbles

Babs: good handwriting in cursive, a little worse in print

Jason: average handwriting

Tim: messy but not illegible

Cass: very clear handwriting, bigger than most

Steph: bad handwriting

Damian: very good handwriting

*Duke is not included in this post because I haven’t read his comics

[scandalsavagefanfic]

watgp is good but my god(s) does it emotionally drain me... slade im used to being an ass but dick... i just wish nightwing had somehow gotten a bit of the fonts(+ tim's) wisdom or also gotten the bonus of a high EQ with his love powers U_U on another note, jason has to be like?? the god of determination or something, right?? cause damn this boy is stubborn

It emotionally drains me too! But thank you, you’re very sweet.

Nightwing is... complicated. Partly because, like Tim said, love is messy and confusing. But also, there may be some stuff going on that have thrown him and Deathstroke out of balance 😉

I promise I’ll tell you guys what Jason is the god of in the next chapter. I’m starting to get nervous that it’s going to disappoint you guys lol.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Origin Story 2: Electric Boogaloo

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/dtnOIeB by krysinyy Dr. Strange - Stephen, is a really nice guy. Peter is positive that Stephen is trying his best, it’s just been a long day. Or week. Month? Fighting multiversal bad guys really messes with your sense of time. So when Peter gets his head knocked so hard he wakes up in another universe he doesn’t exactly blame Mr. Strange. Cue Peter Benjamin Parker being unceremoniously dumped in Gotham where it seems like history is determined to repeat itself. This time, the font is just a little different. Words: 515, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Batman - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: M/M Characters: Peter Parker, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Leslie Thompkins, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Damian Wayne, Roy Harper Relationships: Tim Drake/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Peter Parker Additional Tags: Whump, Graphic Description, Serious Injuries, Dimension Travel, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Found Family, Angst and Humor, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Cannon is the photo on the box and I'm bad at puzzles, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/dtnOIeB

[tessatechaitea]

Batman #442

Can you believe thirty years ago, DC was trying to convince a bunch of adults that it was okay to read their kiddy mags?

There wasn't this much sexual tension in the last porn I watched.

This is my reputation on the line so I'd just like to point out that the above scanned panel is all off-kilter because the entire stupid page was wonky. I fucking scan like a champ! Meanwhile, Two-Face struggles to set off the explosives in the basement where Batman and Nightwing are trapped. First he needs to argue with himself about how to flip the coin. Does he catch it and flip it over onto the back of his hand? Well, to decide that, he's going to have to flip the coin. But if he's yet to decide how to flip the coin, how does he flip the coin to decide how to flip the coin?! It's a wonder Two-Face ever comes to any conclusive decision at all! I'm suddenly realizing he's Batman's least believable nemesis! And Batman sometimes fights a guy with eyes on all his fingers! Two-Face flips his coin (I suppose he's long ago figured out the procedure for coin flipping. I bet getting stuck on how to flip the coin meant he got his ass beat by Batman one too many times. Being a lawyer, he realized he needed to be prepared for pressure situations like this). The results allow him to blow up Batman and Nightwing. But he still has to wait until 2 in the morning. Or 2:02? Maybe 2:20? 2:22? I guess this time, 2:00 A.M. is fine. And being that Tim mentioned earlier that it was almost two, it looks like it's over for Bruce and Dick! But wait! Help is on the way!

If Alfred and Tim are doing what I think Alfred and Tim are doing, who's driving?!

Tim puts on Robin's suit not because he's been stalking Batman for six years and he's desperate to become the new Robin but because he has to! To save Batman's emotional psyche! It's the most unselfish thing Tim Drake has ever done! It's not like he knew at this moment that he'd eventually get to fuck Stephanie Cluemaster! That was just a reward for being so selfless! I mean Stephanie Cluemaster has agency and her sexuality isn't anybody's trophy! Also Tim is just thirteen and it's 1989 so he probably doesn't know how to have sex. You can only glean so much from MTV and the occasional nudie magazine dredged up in the bushes outside the local high school. I mean, I was pretty sure I knew how to have sex when I was thirteen from watching Lionel Richie's video for "Hello." Seriously though, I have no idea when I went from not knowing what sex was to knowing what it was. I remember seeing Clash of the Titans at the theater when I was ten and not knowing what a virgin was. So I probably didn't know what sex was at ten. It's also probable I knew at ten but just didn't know there was a word for what I am. I mean was! At ten! But by twelve, my friend Hobby Benline had had sex, so I must have known what it was by then. Unless he did it wrong and I got the information from him! Really though, I just don't know where the information came from. I think it must have just sort of condensed inside my head from a whole bunch of disparate notions and experiences.

This fucker is crazy.

Some of you Internet denizens who probably overuse the word "meh" (overuse constitutes a single use) are probably furiously typing, "You just realized that?!" Obviously I knew Two-Face was crazy! That's the whole point of all Batman's villains or else why would Arkham Kiddy-Care be a thing? But that little speech he just gave is really fucking overplaying the whole double thing! I thought maybe he was going to get all excited about the two nines in 1899 or how 1899 is sort of two 18s or maybe he was going to marvel about how he has two grandfathers! This fucker is finding twos every Goddamned where! You can tell Marv Wolfman doesn't write too many Two-Face story because across three Batman issues, he's really blown his wad on finding ways to incorporate the doubling theme. Alfred and Tim arrive just in the nick of time to see the house explode. Tim punches Two-Face in the jaw but only once so it doesn't hurt him. That's what happens when you jump right into the Robin costume without learning about the criminal you're after. Two-Face manages to pick up a crowbar to swing at Tim's head while Alfred can only watch while shitting himself and thinking, "Why the fuck can't I keep the number of a child psychologist on hand at all times?!"

The face of a man culpable for the deaths of too many children's innocence. And also just their deaths. Real deaths. Of children. One at least. Maybe now two. Fucking monster.

Robin manages to jump out of the way without mouthing off which makes Two-Face suspect something is different with Robin. He's all, "Where are all your terrible jokes, Boy Wonder?" And since we know there's an afterlife in the DC Universe, Jason Todd hears Two-Face's critique of his one-liners and his heart hardens. That's why he comes back willing to kill. Alfred finally jumps in to stop Two-Face from killing Tim while yelling, "He's only a boy!" No fucking shit, Pennyworth. Maybe you should have considered that before you allowed Bruce to never get therapy so that he eventually begins wearing a batsuit which eventually leads him to bringing in a young boy to help fight murderers which eventually led him to bringing in another young boy who was killed fighting murderers which eventually led to you driving this "only a boy" to the feet of a murderer while also lending him a superhero outfit to die in. Fuck you, Alfred! You fucking suck. I actually really like Alfred! But fuck is he problematic!

Jesus Christ, Alfred! Code names, you putz!

Alfred is making me so angry this issue! I hope Batman fires him at the end of this. He needs some time off to get his head together. Enough with being an accessory to child endangerment! Tim helps dig out Batman and Nightwing who both survived Two-Face's terrible explosives. I guess BOGO explosives aren't too reliable. And since it was Two-Face, if one of them survived, both of them had to survive. It's part of Two-Face's rules of conduct. Batman sees Robin and tears the mask off of his face, declaring there is no more Robin. But Dick and Alfred are all, "You should have seen him! He's so smart and agile and he's got terrific legs!" But Batman is apparently the only sensible one in this fucking bunch of child-murdering lunatics.

Look, I know how this ultimately turns out. But at least for one panel, I can think, "Way to go, Batman. Good decision! I'm proud of you!"

Tim is all, "Batman needs a Robin!" And Batman is all, "Fuck you!" But then Tim counters with, "What if The Joker brags about killing Robin and everybody is all, 'Hey, yeah. Where is Robin?! Man, we can kill anybody now, I guess!'" And Batman is all, "Well, I mean, it's dangerous work!" And Robin is all, "I know! That was your initial reason to not let me be Robin!" And Batman is all, "Well, I'm not hiring right now! I need to catch Two-Face! He's gotten away!" And Robin is all, "I put a tracker on him!" And Alfred and Nightwing are smiling and elbowing each other and winking and not saying at all, "Batman is going to get this kid killed!" Finally, Batman relents and agrees to discuss it because he's argued against it long enough to make it seem reasonable. Fans can't say Batman just gave in! It was an emotional debate that sorely tested my reading comprehension. Such powerful arguments on both sides! With minimal help from Robin (but enough for Batman's heart to melt), Two-Face is captured!

Later in, presumably, Alfred's bedroom.

Batman eventually relents and decides to train Tim on a trial basis. I guess all of the arguments convinced me as well. Batman totally needs a Robin! How else would, um, Batman do the, um, thing or the other, um, I mean, he just needs Robin! Duh! Batman #442 Rating: C. This issue wasn't really any worse than the others but somehow I can't bring myself to believe Dick and Alfred would be so excited about getting Batman a new Robin. I guess it's like when a friend loses a pet and you have to watch your friend spiral into a severe depression and you don't know how to make them feel better and finally the only thing you can think to do is to buy them a new pet. Then you're happy and giggly and excited when you see the way your friend's eyes light up even if they act like they resent the attempt at making them feel better. And you know the pet is going to quickly worm its way into their heart and you don't care that your friend often throws their pet off of high bridges attached to home-made parachutes because you're not thinking about the safety of the pet at this moment. Your whole purpose is just to make your friend feel better. And that's whey Alfred and Nightwing are so happy putting Tim's life in danger. Because they love Batman that much!