#he has been trying and failing to get Damian to call him Dick Richard at the very least | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flashflashhundredyarddash · 4 years

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batkids and their relationships with their siblings headcanons. under read more because this got fucking LONGGG

dick

dick is the eldest so he doesnt want to bog down his younger siblings with his problems, but if he DOES, he tends to talk to jason about it

dick and cass start to really begin to bond when Cass shows up to dicks gymnastics class for 3rd-6th graders and then cass shows up all the sixth graders and they get frozen yogurt after lmao

dick and tim are Very much thick as thieves. tim is very much like bruce on the Emotional Suppression scale, so dick just really wants to make sure his little brother is safe and happy ALL the time

Duke and Damian are the only two really permanently at the manor anymore, so when dick drops by he tries to do something with both of them. duke frantically zoom calls dick every other week to help him with his his trig homework. dick shows up to dukes high school graduation with literally the BIGGEST SIGN

everyone insists damian is dicks favorite but he does actually genuinely love all his siblings equally, his relationship with damian is just Very different from the others because of the age gap and being dami's primary caretaker for a year. dick babies dami every chance he gets

jason

would sell Dick to satan for One corn chip

him and cass don't have the greatest start to their relationship because cass is very much Against Killing so it takes a while for jason to warm up to her and earn her trust. now, though, jason is competing with steph by showing cass all the classic American Teenager things she missed out on. steph is currently winning but jason is like 98% positive a crunch wrap from taco bell is going to push him over the edge

tim and jason are currently competing over who can solve the most cases in a month. tim is winning. that won't last long.

jason Loves to Big Brother duke its so embarrassing. duke will get out of school and go to his car and jason is SITTING IN THE FRONT SEAT FRANTICALLY WAVING TO GET DUKES ATTENTION. JASON THAT IS MY CAR. signal has one (1) mission with arsenal and arsenal goes hey did you ask that girl to homecoming yet and duke is like I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU.

Damian is proof that Actually, Little Brothers are Pests. Jason fully believes that he was brought back from the dead PURELY to torment damian and he will fulfill this mission at any cost

cassandra

it actually really upset her when Dick didn't accept her at first. she knows her other siblings really adore dick so his lack of trust was really disheartening. it takes dick a while but once he Actually Accepts that cass is going to be a permanent part of their life and oh, wow, dick you really hurt her feelings he really hyperfocuses on bonding with cass for a couple of months which definitely improves their relationship

she really likes jason!! their relationship doesn't start well but because he's close with steph and tim who are cass's top two favorite people to exist ever, cass is like well i GUESS ill hang out with him more. jason is fun to talk to because he always tries his best to explain jokes and give context to what people are talking about (also tim took her to taco bell already but she didn't tell jason she just wanted to hang out)

cass LOVES tim. they just click okay. tim always seems to know when to give her space and when to push and come closer. Tim's "guest room" is just her room lets be real. tim and cass occasionally get mistaken for twins and Cass Loves it.

duke makes cass listen to metal once and cass loses. her. damn. mind. they bond over music a lot because they both Love Music to a degree the others in their family don't.

damian!! damian is her little brother!!! dami isn't As Hostile to cass at first because he is 100% aware cass has the edge in fighting and respects her. cass likes all of his instagram posts and they have a snapchat streak going

tim

tim Loves dick, dick was his first sibling!! he had Very strong hero worship when he first met dick but it mellowed out when tim got older because wow 17 is really not that cool and mature lol. tim has an open invitation to dick's apartment which he does occasionally take advantage of. tim has more than once scared the shit out of wally when wally comes over and wally is convinced they're being robbed (HA) for half a second. i mean. he's not wrong.

listen. tim understands that forgiving the guy who tried to kill you would be a Struggle for some people and it was! definitely! but also at least he can trust jason to, uh, be open about if he doesn't like tim. which is not an assurance he has with other people. so if the guy who tried to kill him tells him tim is cool now then like. maybe tim isn't that bad or annoying a person? also jason arrested a whole gang and won the cases competition but then it created a power vacuum that the whole batfam had to clean up the rest of the month. thanks, jason.

tim LOVES cass. you know how most of the time theres this empty feeling inside you and you just kind of ignore it because you don't know what will fix it or if you do, you know you can't fix it? cass makes that empty feeling feel a little less empty. they just click. tim always tries to travel with cass whenever she leaves gotham.

tim and duke. Tim is actually the sibling who duke goes to whenever he has questions he doesn't want to ask bruce or alfred about, like, life or vigilante-ing or school or college or whatever and Tim is always like yes!! i love Giving Advice and Solving Problems!! tim and duke and jason fill out their college applications together.

tim and damian. LMAO. ROUGH START THAT'S ALL ILL SAY. at some point alfred goes like fuck it. family therapy. and tim and dami are PISSED. tim and damian get along best when they have a common enemy to work against. their relationship gets much better when damian is older and they actually talk about their feelings like emotionally stunted bats. despite how bad their relationship was, tim will ALWAYS protect damian

duke

very much intimidated by dick at first. dick is so much older and has his own job and friends and life and is very much AN ADULT. dick likes to take duke out to do lots of cool stuff (paintball, lasertag, tech exhibitions, concerts, etc). also, dick PERSONALLY introduced duke to superman and is dating THE FLASH. 10/10 awesome big brother.

was intimidated by jason for 0.5 seconds before jason actually opened his mouth and started speaking. jason is literally. So Embarrassing. which is weird because nobody else really seems to feel that way about jason but duke knows he's 100% in the right here. like yeah jason is also An Adult and does Adult Stuff but he's also at the manor like every other weekend???? and he always complains about bruce but always seems to be in the same room bruce is in????? like okay jason. they bond over literature!! jason and duke and alfred will spend literal hours talking about books and duke loves it. duke is the only one who doesn't think jason is funny and jason gets so upset about it lmao.

cass has this one week where she gets really into photography and by virtue of being nearby (and also not nocturnal), duke becomes her victim subject. duke prints out all the pictures and hangs them up in his room (his favorite is one he took when he stole the camera and took a really bad selfie of them together).

tim is closest in age to duke so duke tends to hang around with him a lot. tim introduced duke to his young justice friends and duke is like yes!!! meta-friends!!!! tim really helps duke out with his powers because tim is always like wow i wonder if your powers would work if we did This? can you see farther than other people? is your visible spectrum of light different than other humans? Bruce does the same thing but bruce is boring about it lol.

damian and duke live in the same house and will be in the same room and just send each other social media posts back and forth. they follow each other on instagram and will, OCCASIONALLY, make tik toks together because they're tik tok fiends. each of his siblings have visited his parents once or twice but damian routinely comes with him.

damian

damian gets a special bullet point to say that it took him. forever to come around to the idea of having siblings. he very much believed that he was Bruce's Blood Son and everyone else were just tagalongs or allies. it took him ages to acknowledge that dick, jason, tim, and cass were his siblings, so when duke came and like a week later damian was like Ah, Yes, this is my brother Thomas everyone else was like dude wtf

listen. LISTEN. Obviously. Richard is very highly skilled. and also Father values him highly. and also Richard will listen to Damian complain about his schoolmates. and also Richard is much more patient with Damian than other members of his family. listen....,,, (all this to say damian kind of fucking adores dick lmaooooo this kid).

Todd is kind of unbearable but damian has been informed this is both a normal feeling when it comes to Todd and also big brothers. damian was an only child for ten years so yes, Father, if Todd attempts to tickle me I WILL break his fucking nose. yes i WILL put money in the swear jar but I want you to know i don't regret it. they always try to sneak up on each other but mostly fail.

DRAKE!!! but no lol once damian grows up and is like I Apologize for attempting to murder you it was wrong and you are just as much a son to Father as I am tim is like UGH i guess its cool since ur being so emotionally mature and all. also im 2 for 5 on siblings trying to murder me so im definitely going to win trauma bingo and damian is like i take it back you are insufferable. When Will My Older Siblings Stop Joking About Their Trauma.

CASS!!! listen. cass is cool. Cass Gets It. They have a special Bond. also damian really likes it whenever cass is home because 1) he gets to hang out and do something cool with cass and 2) he feels significantly safer with cass in the house because Nobody will be able to hurt any of their family if Cass is there. ALSO he tries to call her cain but everyone is like DONT DO THAT and he doesn't want to call her wayne bcus theyre ALL wayne (dick adds it on as a middle name but also Richard John Wayne West-Grayson is just. the lamest name ever so dick needs to reconsider it before his upcoming nuptials)((dick will not reconsider it except maybe whether grayson-west would work better)) and so he tries cassandra but cass is like :) call me cass and damian is like cassandra is more formal and respectful and cass is like :) and finally damian just has to give in.

Duke! him and duke actually live together so they get the Most Bonding Time and have a bunch of inside jokes as a result. (is it bad i wanted to laugh because inside jokes... joker... i'll see myself out). they're eating breakfast together (and also alfred sits with them IM NOT A MONSTER ALFIE'S LIKE 70 NOW OKAY) and duke laughs and bruce is like what are you laughing at, son? and duke is like oh damian just showed me this funny meme and then he shows the phone to bruce and bruce grabs it (both the boys groan) and after WAY TOO LONG is like "i don't get it" and so now duke and damian have to try and explain the comedic intricacy of bob's burgers

#this took. two fucking hours #batfam #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #cassandra cain #cassandra wayne #not sure which one to commit to yet #tim drake #duke thomas #damian wayne #dc #the burd squawks #birdflash #birdflash was like. one of my first ships lmao

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hauntedbythefanficsofmypast · 4 years

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Goodbye Paris: The Class's View

This is set for after Marinette graduates early, and right after Hawkmoth's defeat.

When Marinette left the class for good many were happy that another 'bully' was gone. They celebrated even more when Hawkmoth was defeated though they made sure to comfort a despondent Adrien. In fact the class didn't think about her much until Bustier asked how their funding for the end of the year trip was going.

Everyone was just confused asking her what she meant. Bustier mentioned that they should have been raising money for their trip. Since Marinette was gone it fell on the rest of the class. Lila spinned a story claiming that Marinette purposely dropped out half way through the year to screw up their trip. Bustier tries to mention that Marinette hadn't dropped out but the class is already on its tyrant of Marinette being terrible. She simply sighs and drafts up an email explaining to Damocles that her class will not be going on the trip.

The class is terribly upset as they scramble trying to make up enough money to at least do something together as a class. Adrien pulls out some of the money he has from selling his father's company and helps pay for them to go to Disney Paris.

As crime begins to rise Adrien reveals himself as Chat Noir, hoping that with the help of Paris he'll convince Ladybug to give his Miraculous back. He is happy that Paris rallies around him, however it backfires on him when Ladybug announces she is leaving Paris for good.

When the class confronted Lila about her best friend, Lila burst into tears. Leaning against Adrien forcing him to fake comfort her. She spins a tail that Ladybug, 'real name Megra' went off on her a while back for getting akumatized. She claims that 'Megra' insulted her telling her that she was done being friends with a 'disabled' person. Everyone but Adrien believes her, this causes Alya to start tearing apart Ladybug on her blog.

Soon all of Paris is looking for this 'Megra'. When the trip comes up everyone is sad that they aren't leaving the country like other classes. Once they get back Lila starts crying saying that this was all Marinette's fault. This causes the class to get angry. And Alya decides to head over to Tom and Sabine's and give Marinette a piece of their mind.

When they arrive they notice a limo out front this causes them to stop and stare. They watch as Jagged Stone gets out greeting Marinette with a tight hug as the driver takes her bag. She then gets into the limo with him leaving before the class can make it over. When Lila sees Sabine and Tom she quickly asks what is going on, playing the worried classmate card. Sabine tells them that Marinette has moved out to an apartment close to her college.

Lila frowns starring after the limo hiding her anger. Before saying that Marinette must have tricked poor Jagged in some way and then stating that Marinette couldn't get into college because she dropped out of school.

The class comforts Tom and Sabine, both of whom tell them they are sad that their daughter turned into the woman they just watched leave. Lila smirks before smiling gently at the parents and telling them that she'll be there if they ever need help.

Over the next couple years the only time they hear of Marinette is when Juleka is complaining over her brother still being friends with her.

Lila cons Adrien into dating her after she convinces their former classmates to help push them together. Adrien agrees and starts dating her wanting to keep the peace between his friends. Meanwhile the others all have jobs in the field of their passion but they are extremely low level. Adrien and Lila are still modeling. Nino only djs for kids parties and school dances. Alya is working in journalism but rarely gets to write her own articles, and so on.

When Gotham is destroyed Lila is quick to cry out that she hopes the Wayne family is okay. Claiming that she's known them all since she was young. In fact she drops out of contact for six months only to come back claiming she found a way into Gotham. She tells them she was helping the poor Wayne family and Gotham rebuild.

The former classmates gather together excited to watch Bruce's opening speech. Lila and Adrien couldn't make it. The class is shocked when they see Marinette standing behind Bruce. Her head resting on the youngest Wayne's shoulder with her right arm around his waist and her left hand placed on the center of his chest, with his left arm wrapped around her waist. The class blows up when instead of mentioning Lila, Bruce thanks Marinette for all she did helping rebuild Gotham. No one knows what to think, Marinette was there with them on tv. She was live proof that she had been in Gotham the entire time. Meanwhile Lila had no proof, the former class was in shock.

Everyone attempts to reach Marinette to talk to her but they all fail. No one can get through to her, Tom and Sabine have no contact. Chloe wont even acknowledge them and when Juleka tried to guilt her brother it ended with him cutting off all contact with her. Telling her he was ashamed of how she'd been acting and that even now she won't take no for an answer.

Soon after they begin to separate themselves from both Lila and Adrien spending less and less time with the two. Until they didn't even text anymore, Adrien is isolated with only Lila causing her to gain more control over him. A few months later they become Lila and Adrien Agreste, he hates it but she makes the best out of the grave he dug himself.

Neither of them know about Marinette marrying Damian Wayne. They don't hear about her until a few years later. Both of them are in America for a photoshoot and a fellow model manages to get them both tickets to the Wayne family's gala.

When they arrive Lila is upset that only a few photographers want pictures of them. She is struggling not to glare as they enter the ballroom at Wayne Manor. The two mingle with other models, Adrien enjoys talking to other people. While Lila keeps a death grip on his arm, talking and giggling with other models.

They are both surprised when they hear Marinette call out to Selina. The two watch her enter the ballroom escorted by Damian, walking behind them were two twins that's only difference was their gender. Both of them are shocked when one of the model exclaims excitedly about her boss Mrs. Wayne finally arrives with her darling twins no less. The small families outfits are elegant and beautiful, each one screaming one of a kind.

The two spend the entire night attempting to get closer to the couple. Both fail spectacularly, someone always coming between them.

Halfway through the night Bruce calls attention to him and Selina, before telling everyone that the Wayne family had a few announcements. He announces that he is handing Wayne Enterprises over to Tim and Damian completely, and that he is signing Wayne Manor over to Marinette and Damian. Richard steps up with Commissioner Gordon and Barbara by his side and the Commissioner announces that he is officially stepping down and naming Dick the next Commissioner. The ballroom bursts into whispers when Marinette and Damian and Damian stand up, causing the others to give them confused looks. They share a loving look before Marinette announces to everyone their own news.

Marinette- First I want to say congratulations to my oldest brother Richard. I have no doubt you'll make a fine Commissioner. I wanted this to be a surprise so only Damian, twins and I know this, but we have an announcement of our own. Come late December the Wayne family will have two more additions, our daughters Gina Gray and Byrce Catherine Wayne!

This causes the room to burst into cheers everyone quick to congratulate the family on their newest additions. It isn't till the end of the night that Adrien manages to talk to Marinette. Before he can say anything though he notices the familiar ring on Marinette's hand. He mutters out My Lady, something he hasn't said in years. Marinette sighs, shaking her head looking at him sadly.

Marinette- You could've been so much more Chaton. So much more, now if you'll excuse me. I don't want to talk with you. My goodbye to Paris was final. There are only six people from Paris that I still want to see, you're not one of them.

Marinette turns to walk away but Adrien quickly grabs her wrist holding on tightly. He tells her that they need to talk and that she owes that to him. He is surprised when not just Damian comes to her defense but all his siblings. He looks past them trying to get Marinette to listen to reason but she isn't even acknowledging him. She is comforting her twins who are hugging her tightly glaring at Adrien through tears.

That's the last time Adrien saw her in person after he got thrown out with Lila. Both banned from any Wayne galas or functions.

@chocolateherringtacofan

#marinette dupen chang #miraculous marinette #maribat #damian al ghul #damian wayne #damimari #daminette #batfamily #batman #ml ladybug #mlb x dc #ml x dc #ml salt fic #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #miraculous fandom #miraculous au

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daringyounggrayson · 4 years

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Could you do 25 or 30 for Bruce and Dick? I’d really like for you to make Bruce say those words to his son!

I think we would all like to see that! oh, and for this one, I’m mixing things up: Bruce took Dick in as his ward but never went on to adopt him.

25: “You know I love you, right?”

30: “I love you, okay? I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it.”

AO3

"Mr. Wayne!” a photographer calls, waving his arm toward their small group as they try to make their way inside. “A picture of you and your sons, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Sure!”

On cue, the four of them turn toward the camera with easy smiles.

“Oh, sorry sir.” The photographer directs this at Dick. “Could I just get his sons for this shot?”

Dick doesn’t blame the reporter, honestly. He was probably assigned to get pictures of the Waynes, and when you google the Waynes, Dick’s name doesn’t pop-up—at least, not under family. And it makes sense; he was never adopted, so he’s legally not part of the Wayne family. Dick’s relation is just a small, unimportant detail. And to outsiders, especially people outside of Gotham or people who simply don’t keep up with Wayne Family News, Dick looks like more of a family friend, if anything.

It’s an honest mistake, and Dick doesn’t take it personally. Unfortunately, that doesn't make it any less awkward.

Dick glances at Bruce, trying to decide what to do. This evening will be long enough as it is, and if Bruce would rather let it go and get through the photos as quickly as possible, Dick wouldn't blame him. And it’s not like Dick needs his face on another magazine.

Bruce tightens his hold on Dick’s shoulder, decision made.

“If you don’t mind,” Bruce pipes up with a charming voice, “I would like Richard to be in the photo. I did raise him for a decade, after all.” Bruce laughs to ease the tension, and Dick joins him to tell the photographer it’s okay.

The photographer’s eyes go wide, face going slightly pink. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. I, er, here—” he holds the camera up “—smile!” The camera flashes twice. “Perfect. Have a nice evening!” And then the photographer is gone.

“I think I’m going to run ahead,” Dick says. “Find me when you can.”

“Dick, you don't—”

“It’s fine, B. Seriously.” Dick grins.

Bruce frowns.

Dick shrugs and ducks away from his group, heading toward the building. He ignores the flashing of cameras and calls from the various photographers, and he ignores the three pairs of eyes that dig into his back as he goes.

oOo

All in all, the party was uneventful and the four of them excused themselves early after receiving an alert that Scarecrow had been spotted on the other side of town. If Scarecrow hadn’t been spotted terrorizing civilians with fear gas, Dick might’ve been able to enjoy the free ticket out of the gala.

“Shit,” Tim mutters.

“What?” Dick asks, not taking his eyes off of Scarecrow.

“Forgot to grab a new rebreather. I still have the busted one from the other night.”

Dick pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath before grabbing his own rebreather. “Here.”

Tim pushes it back toward him, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I messed up; I can deal with the consequences.”

“I’m offering you the solution,” Dick insists, pushing back. “We don’t have time to argue. Take the rebreather so we can move in.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, I don’t need you to protect me like I’m,” Tim looks away, down, “like I’m Robin. Besides, I think we both know that I’ll be able to handle fear gas better than you.”

Dick clenches his jaw, then relaxes it. Not the time. “Maybe, but I’m in charge right now. So: take the rebreather or you’re playing look-out for the rest of the night.”

Tim’s head shoots up, eyes scanning Dick to see how serious he is. Tim takes the rebreather, shoving it into his belt. “Happy?”

“Thrilled. Let’s go.”

oOo

If anyone had to get gassed, Dick’s glad it was him. Even though he has an objectively bad reaction and treatment isn’t always effective, he has more experience and can deal with it better than his siblings. During and after. On top of that, Tim was and continues to be his responsibility; his top priority was getting Tim home safe. From those perspectives, it was logical for Dick to take the lungful of fear toxin.

Then there’s the selfish, probably more powerful perspective: Dick can’t stand seeing Tim on fear gas. The screaming, the tears, the things he says, the inability to comfort him and take the pain away. It’s awful to see once, and Dick’s seen it countless times, in real life and in nightmares. He’d do anything to avoid it—for Tim’s sake and, when Dick’s being honest, his own. He knows his family probably feels the same way about him, but that just means they’d act out of selfishness too.

Tonight, Dick had more say, so Tim got the rebreather and Dick got more than a lungful of gas.

“Sorry again,” Tim mumbles, passing Dick a fresh ice pack. “About the rebreather.”

Dick takes the ice pack and presses it against his right shoulder, which he agitated at some point during their fight with Scarecrow. “’S fine. Knowing you, you’ll triple check next time to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“No kidding,” Tim mumbles, running a hand through his hair. He stifles a yawn. “Need anything else?”

“Nah.” Dick starts reciting pi in his head, trying to drown out the voices he knows aren’t real. “Get some sleep. And good work tonight.”

Even with the gassing, he and Tim were able to take down Scarecrow fairly easily. It’s nice to know that the two of them can still work well together, even when the circumstances aren’t entirely ideal.

“Thanks, you too.” Tim bounces on the balls of his feet and fails to stifle another yawn. This time, Dick yawns too. “You don’t want company or anything?”

“I’m good. Besides, I’ll probably just try to sleep until Alfred is happy with the blood work.”

Tim shrugs and takes a few steps backward. “If you change your mind.”

“Night, Timmers.”

“Night.” Tim turns around and makes his exit.

Dick throws his good arm over his eyes and tries to sleep.

oOo

Unconsciousness comes in waves, broken by adrenaline spikes and Alfred or Bruce checking on him. But no matter his consciousness status, Dick’s reality is shadowed and manipulated by voices and figures, hallucinations and lies that feel like absolute truths. It’s hard to tell the difference between sleep and wakefulness, but the shaking is a good tell. He doesn’t usually shake in his nightmares.

He's in his room, lying in his bed and shaking. He doesn’t remember coming here, but that doesn’t say much. He’d been having a dream, something that felt real, but wrong. Something adjacent to reality.

A camera kept flashing in his face, the photographer morphing into something less and less human. And Bruce, Bruce had been there. Yelling at him, telling him to—

No. That hadn’t happened, and now that he’s awake, Dick can barely remember the lies.

Dick kicks at his sheets, trying to reach the cool air above them. At first it’s a relief, but soon it’s not enough because he’s hot and sweaty and something keeps telling him to run. He glances out the window, trying to figure out if he could survive the fall—

No. He’s fine. He’s fine.

Dick pushes himself upright, takes some deep breaths, tries to recite pi.

He jumps at the knock on his door.

“Dick?” the door creaks open to reveal Bruce, who enters the room before Dick can answer. “What are you still doing here?”

“I—” Dick feels hot, his palms are sweating again and he can feel his heart pounding against his chest, trying to escape. He blinks, twists the skin on his forearm until it hurts.

Bruce is in front of him, sitting down on the bed. “I trained you to be a detective. Can’t you piece together the clues? You’re not wanted. Get out of my house and stay away from my family.”

Dick shakes his head, fists his hair. The room feels like it’s getting smaller, twisted and darker. Louder. Wrong. This is a sign, but Dick can’t remember for what. “But you—no. You trusted me with Damian, you said—”

What had Bruce said? He’s a master manipulator when he wants to be, needs to be. He might’ve trusted him with Damian, or maybe, just maybe, he was only trying to protect Alfred in case Damian had been given orders to assassinate them. He’d already attacked Tim, after all, and keeping that fact in mind, Bruce would have needed to consider safety and who he’d be willing to lose in order to protect someone else. Dick’s death and its repercussions would have felt minuscule if it meant Alfred would be saved.

Hands tug at his wrists. It’s three fourteen. The voice is lying.

“Shh. Take a breath.” Dick tries, but it’s like his chest has stalled. “Tell me how many posters are in your room.”

“There’s—”

“Take them and go. I don’t want any trace of you left in this house.”

“Dick, you’re alright. Take a breath.” Hands are on Dick’s shoulders, trying to restrain him. He brushes them off, tries to get to the window. “I’m out of patience. I won’t be subtle any longer—I’ve regretted taking you in from the moment you moved in. Go!”

His fingers barely brush against the window’s lock before he’s slammed into the ground. His shoulder pops, making him grunt.

“You’re not thinking clearly. Focus. Wait it out.”

Dick struggles against the weight on top of him, but it doesn’t give, not even when he resorts to biting. The hands simply shift from his chest to his stomach, and his attacker doesn’t even make a sound.

The voices in his head build up. There are millions, all shouting conspiracies at him, all of them sounding too true. His heart pounds so hard that it must be bruising his chest, and he’s so hot that his brain must be about to melt. And, and—he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He’s going to die. This is it—he’s going to die.

A hand forces his head down, and it’s not until then that he realizes he’s been slamming it against the ground in an attempt to silence the voices.

“Shh, shh. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

“Leave! Jump out the window, you’d be doing everyone a favor!”

Dick tries to lift his head again, but the hold is firm. There’s not enough room to hit it against the ground, there’s not enough room to shut the voices out.

“No one will miss you!”

The familiar feeling of a needle slides into his arm.

“Shh.”

Something happens. The room shifts, he shifts, and he realizes that he’s no longer shaking. It’s a sign.

The hallucinations shift into a nightmare that feels too real.

oOo

Dick wakes up to nausea and a headache. He tries to move his hand to rub at his head only to find that he’s been restrained. Bad night then.

He opens his eyes and turns his head. There’s an empty chair by his bed and the bedroom door is cracked open.

“Bruce,” he calls.

Damian steps into view, pushing the door open a little wider. The quick response tells Dick that Damian has been listening from the hallway. “Father is answering a call from Kent. Would you like me to collect him?”

"It can wait.”

Damian still hasn’t entered the room, and it makes Dick wonder how much he’d heard last night, how much last night has to do with the distance, the hesitance. He doesn’t remember seeing Damian at all, but he probably came back when Dick was still in the Cave. And even if they hadn’t seen each other, it’s not like Dick’s bedroom is soundproof.

“Everything okay, kiddo?” He can remember Bruce having a handful of especially bad reactions to fear gas from when Dick was a kid—they’d been terrifying, seeing Bruce like that had made them terrifying.

“Of course. You are the one who was incapacitated.” Damian tugs on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, pulling it halfway down his hand. “But you are alright now?”

Dick quirks his lips into a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Good. I imagine last night was quite difficult,” Damian begins. “Titus woke up several times.” Damian tugs on his sleeve again, he looks like he wants to ask something.

Damian’s head turns abruptly, and whatever he sees causes him to take a step back. Into the hallway, he says, “Richard is awake.”

Now that he’s paying attention, Dick can hear Bruce’s footsteps. Bruce pauses outside of Dick’s bedroom, and he and Damian exchange words in quiet voices that Dick can’t understand. Then Bruce steps inside and closes the door behind him.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks.

“Lucid,” Dick starts. Bruce tilts his head, expectant. “Not great overall, and I still feel a little on edge, but I think the worst of it is over.”

“Hnn.” Bruce looks him over for a moment, trying to confirm Dick’s self-evaluation. He must pass because soon Bruce is taking off the restraints.

“Did I . . .” Dick tries to think back to last night and work out what was nightmare and what was hallucination and what was reality. “Did I try to jump out a window last night?”

“Yes. I had to hold you down until a sedative was administered. After that, we decided it would be safer to use restraints until the toxin wore off.”

Dick sits up as the last of the restraints are removed. He stretches his ankles and wrists. “Did the antidote not work or something?”

“It either wore off early or the toxin was stronger than usual. Possibly both, considering how you reacted to additional doses,” Bruce explains.

Dick frowns. “How many doses did you give me?”

“Three. You probably won’t need a fourth, but we’ll check your blood in a few hours to make sure that the traces still in your system are gone, or at least decreasing.”

Dick groans and slides back down against his pillow, draping his arms over his face. The fear toxin antidote, while helpful, isn’t without side-effects. With three doses, those effects will stick around for days.

Bruce, the bastard, has the audacity to chuckle at him. Dick blindly throws a pillow at him, smiling when he hears it meet its target.

Then, “Are you hungry?”

“Not even a little.”

Bruce runs a hand through Dick’s hair. “Sleep.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

oOo

Dick wakes up alone again, but this time the chair is gone and the door is completely shut. It’s a good sign, and since Dick isn’t currently disoriented, very much preferred.

It’s much later in the day now, a little past noon, but he knows he could very easily close his eyes and sleep for another few hours. Possibly until the next morning. But to his misfortune, his stomach growls in protest.

With a dramatic sigh that no one can hear, he gets out of bed, quickly showers and dresses, and goes downstairs to find something to eat.

"I was just about to check on you," Alfred says when he spots him entering the kitchen. "How are you feeling?"

Dick shrugs. “Tired.” It’s a side-effect of the antidote, but the nightmares probably hadn’t helped. “Did you guys have lunch already?”

“It would seem that everyone has gotten a rather late start to the day. We were just about to settle in for a brunch of sorts.”

“Do you need help?” Dick asks.

Alfred points toward a tray of what looks like buckwheat pancakes. “If you could bring that tray into the dining room, please.”

Dick hums and grabs the tray, carrying it into the dining room with Alfred behind him. He’s just setting the tray down when Titus storms in, running into his legs with a force that threatens to knock him over.

He takes a step back with a small laugh, reaching down to pet Titus. His tail thumps against the ground as he takes a seat on top of Dick’s feet.

“Master Damian!” Alfred shouts, setting a bowl of fruit down on the table.

“What’s up with you, buddy?” Dick asks the dog as he bends down to pet him better. Titus doesn’t usually tackle him, especially not when they just saw each other the day before. “What’s goin’ on?”

Alfred tsks to the room at large.

“Yes, Pennyworth?” Damian asks when he eventually reaches the room.

“What have I told you about animals in the dining room, especially during meal times?”

Damian rolls his eyes, prompting another “Master Damian!” from Alfred. Dick almost laughs, but the adult in him tells him to stand up and keep his mouth shut.

“Titus, come,” Damian says.

Titus whines.

“Titus, come,” Damian repeats.

Titus obeys, tail low as Damian leads him out of the room.

“And please gather the others before returning.”

Damian mumbles something under his breath that Alfred claims to have heard. Despite the resistance, Tim comes into the room a minute later, so Damian must’ve done as Alfred asked.

“Morning,” Tim says. He juts his thumb toward the hall. “What’s Damian mad about?”

“Oh.” Dick huffs a small laugh. “Titus ran in here and Alfred kind of went off on him.”

“Ugh, and I missed it? Bummer.” Tim takes a seat next to him and steals a piece of fruit from the bowl. “Feeling any better? Bruce said you had a rough night.”

Sometimes a little fear toxin exposure can be so mundane and minuscule that it isn’t mentioned the following morning. Dick wishes this was one of those times.

“Yup.” Dick taps his fingers on the table. “What happened to your ankle? You didn’t report it last night.”

Tim looks down at the ACE bandage wrapped around his left foot. “Oh. Just an old injury that started acting up this morning. I can still kick your ass at sparring later, though.”

Dick snorts and grabs one of the buckwheat pancakes, deciding he can’t wait any longer. “You wish.”

oOo

Breakfast is uneventful, aside from Dick literally falling asleep on the table. Bruce shakes him awake after everyone’s finished eating and then drags Dick down to the Cave to check his blood levels. Titus joins them, pressing himself against Dick’s legs and nearly tripping him as they make their way down the Cave’s stairs.

One blood test later and they learn that the toxin levels haven’t budged. Bruce decides to give him another dose of the antidote.

“Fourth time’s the charm, right?” Dick says.

“Hnn.”

Bruce sets a timer on his phone, just like he used to do in the early days. Draw blood, antidote, set a timer, draw more blood. That had been the routine for so much of his life.

Although, Dick supposes, they hadn’t really had antidotes back then; they’d had attempts at treatments. Desperate attempts to manage symptoms. There was no testing to guarantee their effectiveness or safety, and their chemical makeup had been based purely on theory and desperation. It was better than nothing, but it was risky, so they took precautions: monitoring each other not only for effectiveness but also for the inevitable side effects.

Dick will never forget the time an “antidote” caused his throat to swell up and chest to stall. The timer had only had a minute left, too—they’d increased the time after that, and Dick hadn’t complained about having to wait the whole time for almost a year.

These days, monitoring isn’t always part of the routine, and when it is, it’s mostly to check for effectiveness. But since this is Dick’s fourth dose in a relatively short timeframe, his risk for adverse effects is higher and he needs to be monitored to make sure he doesn’t keel over. Bruce will probably force him to stay at the manor until all side effects of the treatment subside, longer if new side effects arise.

“Have you been able to get any restful sleep?”

Dick jerks as he’s pulled from his thoughts. “Uh,” he starts, needing a second to process what Bruce just said. “No. Not really, no.”

“Someone can patrol in Bludhaven while you recover.”

It’s an offer, Bruce trying to be helpful. Dick knows that, but something makes it feel like an order, proof that Bruce thinks he’s incompetent.

“I’m fine on my own.”

Funny how Dick’s still trying to prove that, after all these years. He remembers when he was eight and first moved in with Bruce, how he’d been adamant about not needing a parent, not needing Bruce, but he became attached anyway. He’d told himself Bruce was a want, not a need, but that hadn’t been true, not in the early days.

Then things shifted. He grew up and no longer needed Bruce, but he’d wanted him. Dick had lied to himself again, telling himself that Bruce was the last person he wanted. The lie was easier to believe on some days than on others, but it had been even harder to convince himself that Bruce felt the same way. That even if Bruce didn’t need Dick, he wanted him.

That feeling of uncertainty, insecurity, had been with Dick since he was a kid, and it had persisted and worsened as he’d gotten older. It had been exacerbated after Two-Face nearly killed him and Bruce promptly fired him from being Robin. He was twelve and lost back then, and in what he now knows was just his twisted, hurt kid-brain, he’d convinced himself that Bruce didn’t need nor want him, as Robin or anything else.

Back then, he’d been certain that pity and guilt were the only things stopping Bruce from tossing Dick out onto the streets. He’d felt like a burden, and he’d hated everything about his life in those moments. So, he’d done the only thing he could think of—he ran.

And Bruce—Bruce didn’t chase him.

That was—maybe is—the important bit, the part that Dick still thinks about. Not the initial rejection, not being fired—that Bruce didn’t come after him.

After all, that’s what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? For Bruce to prove him wrong, for Bruce to chase after him, fight for him. To want him.

Bruce fought for Jason, then for Tim and, eventually, Damian. It’s clear that they are and always will be wanted, and Dick knows it’s stupid, but he doesn’t always know if that’s true for himself. At the end of the day, his brothers all have Bruce’s name, and all Dick has is a man who stopped being his legal guardian when he turned eighteen.

Dick is useful, even needed on the rare occasion, but he’s not always sure that he’s wanted. And he desperately needs to be wanted.

“Something’s . . . bothering you.” Bruce’s brows are furrowed, searching Dick’s face and trying to find the clues that will tell him what went wrong and where.

Dick scratches behind Titus’s ears, looking at him instead of Bruce. “Just the toxin.”

“Hnn.” Bruce sits down next to Dick, grunting slightly as he settles. “I imagine that the photographer’s comments last night didn’t help.”

Sometimes Dick hates how well Bruce knows him.

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Maybe. But fear toxin twists things, and it’s been known to draw on recent events, especially the latest versions.”

Dick says nothing, just nods in acknowledgment as he attends to Titus.

“Dick, you are my family, in every sense of the word. And I . . . I was bothered by the comment last night that implied otherwise.”

Bruce reaches over and squeezes Dick’s knee, and Dick wonders how much he’d said last night when the fear toxin was in control.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just—” Dick sighs, leans his head against Bruce’s shoulder, squeezes his eyes shut. “Sometimes I don’t.”

Bruce shifts. He cups the back of Dick’s head and pulls him toward his chest, pressing a kiss into his hair. “I love you, okay? And you are wanted here. So, so wanted.” Bruce holds him in a tight hug and traces circles into his hair. “I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it.”

Dick hugs him back and nods into his chest. It doesn’t fix everything, but it makes it better. And sometimes that’s all anyone needs.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #tim drake #damian wayne #nightwing #batman #red robin #robin #batfamily #fear toxin #elizabeth writes

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andieperrie18 · 4 years

Text

moral of the story (batfamily x batmom reader)

Inspire by moral of the story by ashe

So I never really knew you, God I really tried to

Loving Bruce wasn't hard. I have a lot of love to give and I gave myself to him unconditionally and thought that I he'll learn to love me someday. There were times that he would open up to me about things and his children. I did everything I could to help him, from taking care and raising the children he adopted, loving them like they are mine, to supporting his nightly routine.

"Aren't you father's wife, why aren't you sleeping in the same bed with him?" asked little Damian as I tucked him to his bed.

It's surprising to everyone that I was the first to tame the blood child of Bruce but I didn't really know how I did it too. Same as all of Bruce's children. I guess I just loved them all equally as a mother would wth her own child.

He wasn't the first child to ask me that, Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass and Duke did aswell but I didn't have the heart to tell them that I was hoping to be one day worthy to sleep beside him.

I was talking with my lawyer, saying where'd you find this guy

Said young people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes

I can't even move a muscle. My eyes were just staring at the blank line marked with an X and beside it was another line but filled with the perfect signature of my husband.

"I'm really sorry Y/n," I heard my lawyer/childhood bestfriend mutter to my side. I took a glance at her, teeth gritted and a frown blossomed on her face.

"Fei, its really ok-","OKAY?! HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT Y/N?!! YOU LOVED HIM FIRST!! YOU SAYING THAT YOU ARE REALLY LETTING HIM GO TO A S--"

"Fei, please. Don't make this harder. I don't need you to tell 'I said so' or 'you should have listened to me'. I don't even know how to tell my kids abou this so please don't make it harder for me..." I could feel my voice breaking with both my hands holding my torso cause I can't even read the contents of the papers placed before my eyes.

She finally stopped walking in circles from my pheripheral vision for a moment then pulled the chair she was sitting on earlier close to me. Then next I felt her pull my head to her until I was nuzzling my unmake-up face to her white office shirt.

That night, I walked down to the batcave where Bruce was. Alfred was there as well and didn't fail to greet me with a warm smile. But he saw the manila folder I held and it made the smile on his face disappear in a blink. I made my way to the man I once called my husband. He wasn't alone.

In his Batman uniform, his lips was sealed in a loving kiss by the only woman he had ever loved from the start. The very woman I can never compete for his heart.

Selina immediately notice my presence and pulled away from Bruce. She loved him. She really did, I guess that's enough assurance that Bruce will be okay. His world will keep turning with or without me in it.

Bruce turned to where she was looking to meet my pained smile. He put himself before her, it made my heart ache a lot more. Whe I got to them, I didn't let him speak as I gently handed the envelope I had. Judging how his face turned from concerned to guilty, he already knows what's inside.

"I just wanna say something to her, I won't her,"

He didn't speak but moved aside and I was face to face with Selina. I could tell with the way she avoids my gaze, she is guilty with my state. With slightly shaking hands, I took her hands.

Some mistakes get made, it's alright it's okay

You can think that you're inlove, when you're really just in pain

third person

"I know that he loves you and no matter how much love I give him, It won't come to that amount on how much you love him," despite the stutter at the end of the sentence, Y/n kept he chin up.

Bruce was silent but he knew what he did was eating him inside. His guilt was prowling beast ready to swallow him up at that running second. He was the one fueling it as well as regret grew. He understood this act was the cause of his heartlessness but in his mind he knew that Y/n didn't believe that.

What was worse at that moment and had made his guilt grow a lot more was winessing how his now ex-wife acted. Instead of rampaging, she acted civil and collected.

"I won't bother the both of you, all I ask is that you take care of my children,"

With that, she left the couple alone. They were silent but something screamed louder in it.

"Ummi?" Y/n's head shot up as her eyes found Damian who was rubbing his eyes as he had just woke up from a nap. The woman put a smile and walked to the boy, taking her in her arms carrying him. Damian didn't mind this gesture from her as he had grown custom to his only motherly figure in the house. The only woman he will recognize as his mother at the bottom of his heart.

"Hey baby D, why you up? It's half past bed time," Damian leaned his head tiredly on Y/n's shoulder and mumbled, "I'm hungry Ummi,"

Unknown to the boy that his sudden presence was what his mother needed at the moment of rock bottom. With a stuttering voice, she agreed to do the boy's request. Y/n walked to the kitchen with a slow pace while holding Damian close as if someone would try to take him away from her.

That night, she baked a lot of chocolate chip cookies because Damian wasn't the only one who came. Dick came with Jason and Tim after a tight shift in Patrol. They all shared about how their days went before Cass and Duke followed in and entered the last bonding they'll have with their mother.

They say it's better to have loved and lost

To have never have loved at all

Damian fell asleep on the island and Y/n took the liberty to take him to his room. But before he could leave, the slight pull on the hem of her shirt stopped her. She spun her head slowly to meet all of her children's lowered heads and sad faces. They already know.

"Mom I--…We...--" her eldest began his bright blue eyes turning glossy as every second pass, trying to form the right words he wants to say. He always knew what to do when it comes tips and advices for people like a typical therapist as Jason joked but for the first time, even he can't think of anything to do to ease the second special woman next to his biological mother, "Richard, sweet heart…"

The boy didn't finish but rushed towards her and his sibling followed, crowding over her. Y/n welcomed the comfort of the children she come to treasure in her heart. They all head to the living room and continued to crowd Y/n. Damian innocently slept as you cradle him to your chest, Jason and Cass occupied your sides, Tim rested himself beside you legs, Dick held his mother's hand resting in top of Jason's thighs as he no longer minded it, Duke sat at the opposite side of Tim and Stephanie sat beside Cass. All of them stayed up staring into thin air hoping tomorrow wouldn't come.

that could be a load of shit

but I just gotta tell you all

your pov

"U-ummi please…please…."

The weight on my shoulder doubled as I weakly tried to removed Damian's arms wrapped around my waist, his hand clinging to the thick beige sweater I wore to sheild me from the cold wind. I can't even breath with all my sobbing and I can't even see straight with all the free falling down from my eyes and cheeks.

"Damian baby, Ummi has to go," I tried to say straight.

As much as I wanted to shove Damian away so that I won't get caught and cornered up byhis siblings because if I do, it'll make leaving a lot harder than it is.

some mistakes get made, it's alright, its okay

third person

Turns out Y/n did all the things in one day. After signing papers, she had her bestfriend book her a flight to a foreign country. She will need a lot of alone time to contemplate and digest her current situation. Before she head to the cave, she had already packed her things for her flight. Everyone except Damian saw the bags waiting near the entrance. They would have rushed to talked her out when they found her happily talking with their youngest sibling like nothing happened that whole day. They all silently and mentally agreed that their mother needed this, Y/n needed this. Alfred couldn't bear the sad faces in the living room. Bruce didn't bother to come out his room after Selina have left. He can't face her. You don't derserve to see the man who betrayed you.

Dick and Jason was the first to wake when Damian's loud voice boomed outside the house. And soon everyone woke and they all head to the open doors. What they saw woke them to reality. Their aunt Fei's car was parked at the Drive way and beside is was Y/n and Damian, the latter latched on the woman's waist.

No one had the guts to walk over you two and pull the sobbing child on her mother's waist.

"I don't want her, I want you!!" the boy cried. Damian had never cried that much before. He was using all his strength to stop Y/n from entering the vehicle.

Y/n stopped struggling as she finally bursted to fits of sobs and collapsed in front of Damian who pulled her into his tight embrace. Both crying their hearts out.

"Don't leave," he repeated over and over as he buried his face on her neck. "I love you Ummi,"

"Damian, Baby I'm really Sorry. I am so sorry, I love you baby so much," Damian slowly collapse in her arms and Y/n dropped the sleep sedative she hid in her pockets if Damian ever find out. Continous sobs left her as her Dick came to her and took Damian from her arms. She hugged her eldest tightly, Jason followed with few tears escaping his own eyes, then Tim and so on.

Alfred who had been hidden by the crowd of her children walked to her. Y/n didn't hesitate to hug the old man who cried silently.

Y/n hopped inside the car and watched her children sad and crying faces but mostly to unconscious boy held by her eldest child.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #damian robin damianwaynexreader damianwaynexoc wayne batman batboys #damian wayne #damian way x batmom #batmom #sad #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #duke thomas #batfamily x reader #batfamily x you

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intercoursefluids · 3 years

Text

The Impromptu Sleepover Part 2 (Final)

One day. All she asked for was one normal day. Sounds reasonable, doesn’t it? A single completely average day is not too much to ask for.

Unless of course, you are Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Then it’s impossible.

People around Marinette start crying as Scarecrow walks into the room, mothers hiding their children behind them as everyone holds onto each other, scared of what’s to come.

Marinette shudders at the pure animosity radiating from the man-turned monster.

Adrien, ever the faithful friend, mistakes the slight shake as fear and shifts so he covers her from the villain’s view.

Everything is quiet before Scarecrow starts on his evil monolog (not that anyone cares).

Tuning him out Marinette looks around, trying to come up with a plan to get everyone out before a shrill scream and crying fill the air causing her to snap back around.

Some of Scarecrow’s goons are holding a woman back as a small boy is dragged up to the monster himself.

Grabbing the boys are he holds the trembling child painfully tight before reaching behind him and pulling out a canister.

Seeing as how Marinette planned this whole trip she made sure to know all about the local heroes and villains.

And the knowledge of what that bastard was going to do to that poor kid squashed any sense of self-preservation Marinette had.

Rushing forward she manages to make it past the few armed men standing between her and Scarecrow and rips the kid away from him just to get blasted in the face by the fear-toxin.

Ringing fills her ears as she collapses to the ground, voices shouting from the corners of her mind.

All of them shouting how they failed her, she should have done better. That she never should have been chosen.

One voice rings out crystal clear amongst all of the other roaring voices.

You said you would save me, M’lady. I should have known better than to trust someone like you. After all, you aren’t even worth the Ladybug miraculous. I have to say, I’m disappointed in you Bugaboo.

Her head jerks up at her partner’s voice, tears streaming from her eyes as she comes face to face with someone she never wanted to see again.

Chat Blanc.

Voices surround her as explosions sound in the distance. Her parents, her friends, everyone. All screaming at how she failed them, how she should have stopped when she had the chance.

Children’s cries fill the air around her, only these are different. They don’t echo from within her head, instead, they come from around her, slowly grounding her. Reminding her that this is just some monster’s trick.

The fear is still there, prominent as ever, but now her focus is on getting everyone out. She hasn’t failed yet.

Slowly uncurling from the ball she had formed she looks around. Forcing herself to see past the bloodied faces of people she failed to save.

All around her everyone is still the same, the hostages in the same places, same as the gunmen (even if they look smug at her suffering).

The only one missing is Scarecrow himself, and turning ever so slowly to face Chat Blanc her fears are confirmed.

In Scarecrows place stands her beloved kitty.

Pure unadulterated rage fills her as he dares wear her kitten’s face.

Lunging at Chat Blanc she hears the startled screams as she attacks him before the rushing in her ears takes over, leaving her deaf to the sound of shattering glass as the heroes arrive on the scene.

Having the advantage of surprise on her side she manages to pin him fairly easily tying his arms behind his back with her visitors’ pass before spinning around to help take down the rest.

An arm wraps around her, trapping her arms to her side as she struggles, a hand coming up to cover her eyes as she tries to getaway.

Quiet shushing and words of reassurance reach her ears causing her struggling to slow.

“W-who are you?”

Marinette winces at the tremor in her voice as she takes stalk of her surroundings.

Her head is tucked under their chin as their surprisingly strong arms hold her in place, one hand still firmly over her eyes.

“My name is Damian. I’m trying to help keep you calm until they can get you the anti-serum.”

She chuckles even as she shakes in his hold.

“It’s not normally a good idea to grab a girl from behind if you want her to calm down.”

He tenses slightly.

“Right, I didn’t think that through. Most people see what they are most afraid of so I thought if I took that away it would help you calm down.”

Marinette doesn’t reply for a while, opting to try and match his breathing instead of replying. All the while subconsciously leaning more against him.

“It’s working I’ll admit, you just went about it horribly. Can we sit down? I feel like my legs are about to give out.”

She feels him loosen his hold and fumble with something behind her before the hand over her eyes is replaced with a piece of cloth. He takes her hand leading her over to a wall before sitting and pulling her with him, tucking her into his side and draping something over her shoulders as her shaking picks up again.

“I’m sorry, can you tell me about yourself? It’ll help me keep my mind off of the panic.”

She feels him nod shifting again so she's leaning more against his chest.

“I have 3 older brothers. Richard, but everyone calls him Dick, Jason, and Tim. I lived with my mother until I was 10 so I’ve only known them for 6 years. They are all adopted but I don’t think anyone even remembers that half the time.”

Marinette can’t help the soft smile that takes over her face as she wraps her arm around him (why is he so warm???).

“You sound like you love them.”

He scoffs.

“Not in a million years, they’re annoying. Grayson is overly dramatic and a hopeless romantic, Todd is a trigger-happy hothead, and Drake is an insomniac, workaholic with a caffeine addiction.”

Marinette can’t help but giggle, her overwhelming fear slowly receding enough for her to think.

“They may be ‘annoying’ but they’re your family, I can tell you care about them.”

Damian makes an offended noise even as he wraps his arm around her rubbing her arm up and down.

“The only person in our family that I actually like is Alfred, he’s our grandfather and the only reason any of us are still alive, but, I guess they aren’t as bad as they used to be. Not that I'll ever admit that to them. Their egos are big enough as is.”

Marinette is about to respond when another voice cuts her off, causing her to cling to Damian as her heart rate picks back up frantically.

“Too late, I brought the anti-serum for your frie- Hey is she okay?”

Damian pulls her into his lap, rubbing her back even as he scolds the other person.

“She’s still being affected by the fear-gas dipshit! I just got her to calm down again, give me that!”

One of his arms leaves her body as he reaches away from her, he starts whispering to her again as something pricks her upper right arm.

It only takes a minute for the anti-toxin to work, causing Marinette to sag in relief against Damian as he keeps his arms around her.

“Seriously Todd! You should have known better than to startle someone like that!”

Marinette takes deep breaths of air, slightly surprised by the smell of Damian’s cologne before realizing she has her arms wrapped around his neck and her face buried in his shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re right. My bad demon-spawn.”

Damian scoffs adjusting Marinette in his arms so he can sit up instead of leaning against the wall.

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to, nitwit!”

Marinette sits up slightly kissing Damian’s cheek as she takes the makeshift blindfold off before returning to her earlier position.

“Thank you, Damian. You didn’t have to help me, much less stay with me and calm me down. You’re really sweet, you know that?”

His arms tense around her before cackling fills the air.

“Demon-spawn? Sweet?! I don’t know who you’re calling sweet but it’s most definitely not my little brother.”

Damian groans as ‘Todd’ keeps laughing, instead directing his attention to Marinette.

“Do you think you’re okay to walk? The cops will probably want to take a statement.”

She nods and they slowly rise, Damian, supporting her the whole time. Once she is finally standing up straight she turns to look at the boy who helped before coming face to face with the greenest eyes she’s ever seen.

Her breath catches in her throat as she meets his electric emerald eyes for the first time since they met.

They stand there, in complete silence before a camera flash breaks through their quiet bubble.

Turning towards Todd, Marinette studies his features.

Pale skin, blue eyes, and black hair with a tuffet of white at the front.

“What do you think you are doing,Jason?”

Todd now dubbed ‘Jason’ grins stepping away from his brother.

“Ooh, the first name. You only use that when you’re pissed. And I’m sending this to the group chat, no one will believe me if I say that you were civil with another human being!”

Damian glares.

“You have ten seconds to run, Todd.”

Jason wastes no time running away as quickly as humanly possible.

Damian goes to follow him but stops when Marinette grabs his arm.

“Help me over to the officers? I’m still a little shaky.”

His sharp glare softens as he leads her over to give her statement.

10 minutes later, they are both sitting on a bench waiting for the police to finish getting statements from the rest of the hostages and for the armored truck that will transport Scarecrow to arrive.

“One time when I was 11, Todd and Drake decided it would be a good idea to kidnap my turkey Jerry and hide him away after buying a raw turkey and cooking it for dinner. They said they found it wandering around outside and decided it would be a good idea to cook it.”

Damian shakes his head in fond exasperation.

“That is the closest I had ever come to crying in front of my brothers. I ended up running and telling Grayson what they did and he got so mad. They ended up fessing up that it was just a prank and they didn’t mean to actually make me upset. They ended up going out and buying a bunch of junk food and pizza before we had one big movie night together.”

“We all ended up falling asleep in the living room all piled on top of each other. Father was so surprised when he came home and he didn’t even send us to bed. He got changed and joined us in the living room. We all ended up sleeping in a giant pile on the floor that night while Alfred took the couch.”

Marinette smiles up at Damian, he had been telling her about himself ever since she had asked him to and she honestly enjoyed it.

“They sound wonderful Damian. Hey, when do you think they are going to-.”

“Mari!”

Marinette is cut off by one of her favorite blondes as he latches onto her body.

“When you rushed forward I tried to follow you and ended up getting hit with the gas and had a panic attack, and then when they gave me the serum I couldn’t find you and had another panic attack, and they couldn’t calm me down for a while and then they had to take my statement but I still couldn’t find you and I’ve been freaking out the whole time. What the hell were you thinking? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

By the time Adrien finally stops rambling his head is in Marinette’s lap and his arms are wrapped around her waist.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, but you shouldn’t have even followed me, that was dangerous and stupid and your dad would destroy me if anything happened to you.”

Adrien snorts.

“If you don’t want me to follow you then don’t take off running.”

Marinette groans, not acknowledging the fact that she is still leaning against Damian.

“Adrien, you are far too ride or die for your own good.”

Adrien sighs, leaning back to look at his best friend.

“Yeah well, Chloe is probably gonna kill us both if we don’t get back to the hotel soon. She heard what happened and has been blowing up my phone since I came to. Ms. Bustier won’t let her leave though.”

“We are so dead. She’s going to actually kill me this time. Damian? Would you like an invite to my funeral? You’ll need a tux.”

Before Damian can even try to respond Adrien cuts him off.

“Oh! There's another person here… Who saw me acting dramatic…. Oh no.”

Adrien's pale face contrasts brightly with Marinette’s, which is bright red from restraining her laughter.

“Okay, okay this is fine. It’s fine. We have two options here, A: We kill you so you can’t spill our secrets or B: You become our friend and are kept under surveillance.”

Damian raises an eyebrow at him not even bothering to acknowledge how dramatic he is still being.

“No.”

Marinette finally breaks, cackling like a witch she rips a piece of paper from her ever present sketchbook and writes her number down.

“Here, this is my number in case you want to stay in contact. Come on Adrien, Chloe is going to kill us.”

She grabs Adriens arm and starts to run, ignoring his protests of ‘He knows too much to be left alive!’ in favor of trying to make it back to the hotel with her other favorite blonde.

She didn’t see the soft smile Damian sent her way as he puts her number in his phone…

But Jason did, and soon will ever other wayne if the video he sent to the family group chat had anything to say about it.

#daminette #I don't now how to tag #marinette x batfam

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Satisfied, Part 12

First

I’m going to start answering comments at the bottom but before the taglist now so you guys can get straight into the chapter (unless it’s really important like taking a break or something)

Also I’ve decided to move all the Wayne kids closer together in age. Damian’s 18, Tim is 21, Jason is 23, Dick is 25

~~~

She didn’t go to the coffee shop the next day. Partially because she wasn’t getting her overpriced coffee paid for (at least not without a lot of whining), but mostly because she wanted to do some research where people couldn’t see her.

She sighed as she flipped between all fifty of her tabs, resting her head on her hand. She could hear Tikki trying, and failing, to make her something to eat in the kitchen.

Who could the bat family be? They had to have a lot of influence and/or money to get as much information as they did. She flipped through the most wealthy people in Gotham and its surrounding area, but where was the cutoff? How was she to know that they weren’t middle class people who saved for expensive things?

And then there was the tiny case of the near-slipup on the rooftops. Nightwing was about to call Robin something. He wouldn’t have been saying ‘friend’, he wouldn’t have had to pause like that. What had he been about to say? She hoped it wasn’t ‘boyfriend’, they had what seemed to be a 10 year age gap. Her best assumption was they were going to say ‘brother’, which implied at least most of the bat family was related.

Her eyes found their way to the tab with a picture of Bruce Wayne. He was standing alone, his kids never had pictures taken of them out of respect for their privacy, but everyone knew of his penchant for adopting kids with dark hair and blue eyes.

Great. She’ll never know, then. How was she, a designer, supposed to get close to the Bruce Wayne?

On a completely unrelated note, the next day she stood outside of a gate with Tim. Her eyes locked on the weird symbol on the gate, trying to place where she’d seen it before, but her brain couldn’t seem to find it. Oh well, it was probably just one of the rich people she’d researched yesterday.

Tim placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “You can not let my dad adopt you.”

She gave a small eyeroll, pushing his hands off and smoothing out her dress. It had taken forever to get a dresscode out of Tim, because he insisted that ‘you could wear a burlap sack and my family would love you, just relax’, but he eventually just told her formal. Not helpful. There’s levels of formal, Tim. She had settled for a plain red dress with a black belt.

“I don’t think my parents would be all that excited if I traded them out after a few days here.”

He nodded. “That’s good. Use that.”

“Use tha--?”

The gates swung open.

Tim took a deep breath as if to steel his nerves. “At least Damian isn’t here. You get to meet the nicest of the family first.”

“Why isn’t he here?”

“He got out of it,” he shrugged.

They stepped inside. She stared up at the high walls. She pulled out her phone and took a picture in case she messed up with Tim’s family so bad that she wasn’t allowed back.

The moment she walked in someone pulled her into a hug. “Thank you!” He cried.

Marinette blinked and gave him a short pat on the back. “You’re... welcome?”

He pulled away and held out a hand to shake. “Sorry, I was just so excited to meet the person who got him to take a day off. I’m Dick.”

“You’re... you’re what?” She said, her eyebrows shooting into her hair.

Dick rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, right, French. I’m Richard but, in America, that gets shortened to ‘Dick’.”

She blinked once, then just chose to accept it. “Nice to meet you, I’m Marinette.”

“How’d you do it?”

She gave a small shrug as they began walking to the dining room. “I don’t know. He just offered.”

Dick sent her a skeptical look, then looked at his brother as if to confirm.

“In my defense, she looked really stressed.”

“More stressed than you usually do?” Came a voice from above. She looked up to see yet another guy leaning over a railing to look at them.

Marinette raised her eyebrows. “I thought you guys were adopted, how do you all look exactly the same?”

The newest grinned. “Dad’s got a type.” He hopped the railing and landed next to them.

She narrowed her eyes slightly as she took a better look at all of them. Tim’s dodge could be put down as self-defense, but hopping a railing and landing without getting hurt?

She blinked as a hand was thrust in her face and gave a weak smile. “I’m Marinette, nice to meet you.”

“Jason.”

Her brain was blaring alarms, trying desperately to tell her something, but it all came out as ‘AHDKFSFHDLKSNDG’, which wasn’t all that useful.

She shook his hand.

It wasn’t until she walked into the dining room and her eyes landed on the Bruce Wayne that she finally figured everything out. Her hands flew to her mouth as she stared at him in stunned silence.

Then she wheeled on Tim and pulled him down by the collar of his shirt. “You’ve been a Wayne this whole time? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He had the decency to look sheepish. “I didn’t want you to use me for my money.”

“Please, I knew you were rich from the get-go, it wouldn’t have mattered if you were ‘goes to Disney twice a year’ rich or ‘could buy Disney if you wanted’ rich. You should have at least warned me outside the gate!”

Bruce dropped something on the desk and Marinette squeaked quietly, letting go of her captive. It was a file of some sort. Crap, was this an interrogation or something? Was that a rich people thing? Do they do in-depth research on people that talk to their kids?

The man slid the file over and she opened it to see... adoption papers?

“Wow, you really weren’t kidding,” she mumbled as she flipped through them. She glanced up at Bruce. “How did you get these so fast?”

“I have them on me at all times at this point,” he explained.

She blinked a few times and then slowly closed the file. “I’m sorry, but I have parents already.”

Everyone (except Tim) seemed stunned. She heard Jason whisper: “Is that allowed?”

Despite the slight confusion, everyone took a seat at the table. There was quite a few seats, but she was amused to see all the kids opting to sit next to her.

Dick rested his head on his hands from his spot across the table. “So, what do you know about Ladybug?”

She did her best not to tense.

“Subtle,” said Jason sarcastically from her right. He turned back to her and gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry, ‘bout that. He’s been obsessed since she appeared, and most of his research has been a dead end. He’s grasping at straws.”

She forced a small laugh. “I’m too clutzy to ever be Ladybug, you can ask anyone.”

Dick groaned. “And I don’t suppose you know who it is?”

“Nope.”

Jason, apparently eager to change the subject every two seconds, asked: “How’d you two meet?”

She glanced at Tim, who was shaking his head so fast she thought it’d pop off, then turned back to his brothers and father. “We met at the coffee shop. He spilled coffee on me.”

She heard Tim’s head hit the table as he groaned.

Jason was cackling. “Awwww, Tim is in a coffeeshop AU!”

Dick grinned. “Next you’ll tell me he offered you free drinks for life or something.”

“Well, actually,--.”

She couldn’t even finish, Jason was laughing so hard.

Bruce seemed less amused. “I would hope that he did, and for the shirt. too.”

She smirked and looked at Tim, who seemed to sense what she was going to do before she did it. He sent her a short look, a ‘don’t you dare’, before she spoke: “Actually, he revoked my coffee privileges.”

The poor kid sighed and closed his eyes. His father was glaring daggers at him, so, after a few seconds of him struggling, he finally gave in. “Fine, I’ll pay for coffee again.”

She cheered and gave Jason a high five.

Dick rolled his eyes. “You’re children.”

“Like you’re so much better!” Complained Jason. “You’re only two years older than me!”

Marinette rolled her eyes and reached out to poke Tim’s face until he finally looked over at her.

“He lives!” She cheered softly and he shook his head and sat up some, a smile playing across his lips.

Bruce chuckled and leaned back in his chair. He’d been watching the four for a little while. They seemed like they’d get along...

“Tim, have you invited her yet?”

Tim went red.

“I’ll take that as a no. Do you want to do it or should I?”

The kid took a deep breath to steel himself, then gently poked her shoulder for her attention. The moment she looked at him, though, he froze and couldn’t seem to get any words out.

Marinette’s head tipped to the side. “Um...?”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “I’d like to, on behalf of my son, invite you to the Wayne Gala.”

To everyone’s surprise, the girl didn’t smile, or thank him, or really react positively at all.

Marinette released a quiet sound, like a balloon deflating, as she slumped into her seat and covered her face in her hands. Tim rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

“What’s wrong?” Came Dick’s voice.

“Six!” She cried.

“You have something against musicals?” Said Jason.

She lowered her hands just enough to glare at him. “I have to make six outfits in four months.”

“You don’t have --,” began Tim.

“I have to! Make! Six outfits! In four months!”

~~~

When Marinette is done with the gala outfits will I show you what they look like?

I’ll do you one better. I’m showing them now because it took a longgggg time and I KNOW I will forget if I wait until then.

I tried to match their personalities with their posture and clothes. I kinda forgot Penny’s character though lol so now she’s kinda like Nathalie.

Also that took forever. If ya’ll want that again you gotta pay me. Christ.

Why is she making an outfit for Adrien if they aren’t friends?

They aren’t on bad terms, they just grew apart due to a difference in ideology. But, beyond that, she has her reasons. You’ll find out when Adrien comes by.

~~~

Taglist

@thatonecroc @comet-kun @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth

#god really gave me all the talent huh #yea yea hubris will be my downfall whatever #timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #maribat #satisfied

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scorpionyx9621 · 4 years

Text

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

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

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

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

3.75K words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————————————————————

"You're a monster"

"Jason is a murderer"

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

"No one wants you around, Todd"

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

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

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

"Maybe I'd be better off dead"

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Those reptiles deserve to die”

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

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

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

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

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

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

STOP IT. SHUT. UP.

*CRASH*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A city with the streets full of milk and honey

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

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

Perhaps hopeless isn't a place

Nothing but a state of mind”

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

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

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

#Jason Todd #Red Hood #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Whump #Angst #Hurt/comfort #Non-ship #Bruce being a good father #Jason trying his best #Jason getting the rest he deserves #The two have gone through so much but they can get help #TW Blood #TW Physical abuse #TW Swearing

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

Text

Whumptober 2020 Day 8

Abandoned | Isolation

Ao3

Warnings: Depression, Panic Attacks, Claustrophobia, blink and you'll miss it Suicidal Thoughts.

Dedicated to @ckbookish! Hope you don't mind me tagging you 👉👈

-o-o-o-o-

"That's great, Dami! I'm happy for you."

Dick held the phone between his ear and shoulder, listening to Damian ramble on about an advanced theater class he got into because the teacher felt the current intermediate class he was in was wasting his potential. He carefully scrubbed the sides of the bowl he had just finished eating about five servings of pudding out of and set it off to the side. He wiped his hands then leaned against the counter, smiling.

"Thank you, Richard," Damian said. His voice was just as stiff and careful as it always was, but Dick could hear the excitement and gratitude sprinkled in there. The kid was opening up. Expressing himself more and more every day in ways the place he came from had never allowed him to. Dick couldn't remember the last time Damian genuinely threatened anyone with violence, let alone threatened Tim. In fact, last he heard, Tim and Damian were going to go to the Gotham Zoo together next weekend. There was no real reason for them to. It was just to attempt at hanging out and Dick couldn't be more proud.

"When will you be switching to the new class?" Dick asked. While he did, he began to migrate from the kitchen counter towards his bedroom door, careful to not trip on anything that was laying on the floor. Not for the first time this day, week, month, or year, Dick made a mental note to finally deep clean the place. "Like, is this a tomorrow thing or…?"

"At the end of the term, actually," Damian answered, his voice dropping ever so slightly. Dick hummed in sympathy. He sounded very excited about it, it must be agonizing for him to find out he needed to wait another few months for the first term to come to a close.

"Well, I'm sure you'll have fun being the best in your current class until then," Dick joked, finally reaching the door to his bedroom and placing his hand on the door handle. Damian scoffed over the phone.

"I am not the best, unfortunately." Damian didn't sound that torn up about it, which was good. Admitting someone was better than you was good character growth. It proved that Damian was letting himself start from the bottom of something instead of immediately being at the top. "There is another girl, her name is Abigail. She has been taking classes since she was a toddler because her mother runs a local theater group."

"So she's as good at theater and you are with a sword," Dick confirmed and Damian hummed.

Dick opened his door, mentally planning out the least tedious way to get undressed, in bed, and asleep as quickly as possible. First he needed to end the phone call, as much as he didn't want to. He started a new job tomorrow, so he needed to be rested. There was a swimming pool downtown that was looking for an assistant coach for the children's gymnastics classes they held there. Dick took up the job the moment he saw it. Or well, the moment he was no longer swinging past it as Nightwing and was back in civilian clothes. There was a good chance that he could work his way up to being a head instructor with his own classes, considering the woman who hired him didn't really seem the type to enjoy children very much. Dick gave it two months tops before she began to just not show up, making it so he was promoted.

"I suppose so," Damian said, "she won't be moving up with me however. She has… friends in the lower class that she doesn't want to-"

Dick missed out on the rest, because the moment he stepped into his bedroom and closed the door behind him, his feet were knocked out from under him and his phone flung from his hand. Decades of experience made it so he was immediately able to go from zero to a hundred, allowing him to scramble up from the floor and throw a punch at the closest shadow like clockwork.

His fists met air. With wide eyes, he spun around his room, heart in his throat as he tried to figure out what had shoved him to the floor.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. All he could see was his messy room, his unmade bed, his open closet, and his closed window.

Suddenly, Dick heard a noise sound across his room from where he threw his phone. Dick rushed across his room and searched for his phone like he had been jolted by a bolt of electricity. He hated how confused and worried Damian's muffled demands sounded.

"Richard! What happened?!"

There! Dick bent down and reached out his hand to grab the phone-

And then his hand went through the phone.

Dick stared down at his empty hand and the phone that sat unmoving on the ground, everything going deathly still as he tried to… process what happened. If it was actually real.

Okay. His nerves were just shot. He tried again, this time a little more slower and careful. He watched with disbelieving eyes as his hand once again just… went through the phone. It just laid there, undisturbed, like Dick wasn't… even there.

Damian's voice rose in volume and Dick kneeled down, noting now how he was fully grounded on the floor; his shirts and other various objects around him phased through him like holograms. Okay, okay so something was definitely wrong. "Damian?" Dick asked, but Damian didn't say anything, just continued to shout for Dick to answer.

"Damian!" Dick yelled louder, but Damian didn't say anything that counted as a reply.

"Richard, if you don't answer me, I will fetch father!"

"Bruce might be a good idea there, Dami," Dick breathed, falling back onto his rear end and watching how he simply went through everything. He brought his hand back to his phone and purposely stuck it through, his fingernail soundlessly tapped the hidden floor beneath.

Curious, Dick knocked on the wood, and when no noise reached his ears he hit it harder.

Nothing. He can't touch anything and apparently he couldn't be heard.

And suddenly, Dick was filled with the crippling realization that he had… no idea what to do now. He just sat there, listening to Damian panic until he eventually hung up to fetch Bruce. Dick sat there, running his fingers through everything he couldn't touch around him until he knew the entire space around him by heart. Dick sat there, and it took him… awhile to work up the energy to stand up and figure this out. But when he did, he forced himself to not let the confusion, horror, and fear stop him. He walked around the room first, looking for something that must have made him like this. There were no sigils that he could see, and if one was hidden under the things he had left on the floor, he wouldn't know because no matter how hard he focused or how many times he tried, he couldn't get anything to move. He went to sit down on his bed to think this through, but then his hand went straight through the mattress and he barely caught himself in time to avoid landing on his rear.

Thoroughly freaked out now, he ran through his dresser, heart pounding to the upbeat rhythm of his phone as Bruce began to call him. Dick didn't pick up the phone, he knew he wouldn't be able to.

He couldn't touch anything. He couldn't. Touch. Anything. His feet would hit the ground and have no volume. His hands would slap against the wall but nothing would sound. He tried not to panic, but when he went to go out his door, it didn't move. He tugged on the door handle. It didn’t budge. Not a single millimeter.

And okay. Okay he was beginning to panic now. He sprinted to the window and slammed his elbows against it, but it was like the glass was replaced with a transparent sheet of solid steel.

Was this some sort of hallucination? Had whatever knocked him down drugged him somehow? Did he hit his head?

He was hyperventilating—this he knew for sure but suddenly he didn't know how to stop it—and without thinking he ran back to his door, banging his silent fists against the wood and tugging on the frozen in place handle.

Oh gods. This was really happening wasn't it? Somehow, he had found himself unable to move anything. Unable to go anywhere. Unable to- to-

His knees gave out, causing him to slide down against the door and press his forehead against the unmovable force before him. He couldn't- he couldn't breathe. Somewhere, at the back of his head, a voice told him that he could breathe. He could take breaths right now and calm down. He could count five things he could see, four things he could touch, three things he could hear, two things he could smell, and one thing he could taste. He could calm down and think rationally and explore his situation a bit more calmly. But the moment he opened his eyes after not realizing he had them closed in the first place and saw his leg phasing through his empty trash can he knew he couldn't go anywhere from there without having a full blown mental breakdown.

So he closed his eyes, tried making noise on the door once again, and tried to keep his breakdown to a minimum.

Just hyperventilating. Just fading.

"Help!" He shouted before he could really consider what good that would do. He was at the top floor of his building and the neighbors across from him weren't home until early in the morning thanks to the graveyard shift. No one will hear him… even if he could be heard.

His phone began to ring again and Dick stuck his fist into his mouth and bit down on his knuckles to keep from screaming.

He sat there—trying and failing to breathe, trying and failing to not cry—and continued to sit there until eventually, he found himself leaning against the door with half lidded and tearful eyes, staring at how his body continued to not touch a single thing.

He let his eyes fall shut one final time and let the stress and anxiety and confusion whisk him away into a very troubled slumber.

-o-o-o-o-

When he woke up he was immediately made aware that his current situation was, in fact, not a nightmare.

And so much worse than what he could even predict.

He awoke to him falling backwards, a crick in his neck and spine suddenly becoming undone as the door he was leaning against suddenly opened, hitting his head with a disquietingly silent bonk on the floor of his living room. For a hopeful, blissful moment he thought whatever happened before he passed the fuck out was all fake and he had just imagined the entire thing, but then he opened his eyes and lifted his head…

Just to see a pair of legs sticking out from the middle of his intangible chest.

His breath hitched, his eyes flicking up to see a worried Bruce literally standing inside of him. The threat of hyperventilating once again became a very real thing as Bruce stepped past him, into the room, and started calling his name.

"Bruce!" Dick shouted, scrambling up from the floor and running back into the room that had previously been his impenetrable prison. He instinctively tried to grab his shoulder, but ended up flinching back violently when his hand simply went through Bruce. He couldn't feel Bruce at all. None of the course fibers of his winter coat brushed against his touch receptors. "Bruce! I'm here!" He tried again, but surprise surprise, it didn't work.

"Is he there?" A new voice said, and Dick just managed to turn around in time to watch Damian walk into the room with wrinkles between his brow and bags under his eyes, shining black against his olive skin. Dick jumped away from Damian's path as he approached their father and watched with a frown as Bruce bent down and picked up his discarded phone.

Then, Dick's phone suddenly began to ring, causing Bruce to scowl. Frightened, confused, and curious, Dick slowly approached to read his phone's screen.

It was close to 6am. Bruce must have driven here as quickly as he could after Damian probably took a few hours to panic to himself and work up the courage to tell Bruce that he thought something was wrong. Though, Dick didn't ponder over why they were here so early for very long. The number calling belonged to his new boss.

He was supposed to be at work thirty minutes ago.

"Shit," Dick breathed, stepping back as Bruce clicked the answer button on the phone and held it to his ear.

Immediately, there was the sound of the lead coach’s nasally voice. Coach Shah. Short, lean, toned, full of freckles, and rocking curly red hair. The woman who was definitely a phenomenal gymnast, but probably shouldn't be allowed to work closely with kids with her grumpy attitude. She didn't sound entirely upset from the muffled tones on the other side of the speaker. Maybe she was saving the angry for later, letting the passive aggressiveness of her annoyance at him for being late to his first day of work steadily drip into her tone.

Bruce finally opened his mouth. "I'm sorry, but I'm not Mr Grayson."

Dick winced at the sound of her confused squawk. Bruce proceeded to explain that he was Dick's father, and that he couldn't find Dick anywhere. Bruce's frown slowly began to deepen as Coach Shah began to probably explain that Dick was her newest assistant and that she hadn't seen him. Shockingly, the phone call didn't end with Dick being immediately fired. Just with Bruce clicking the screen off and looking down at Damian with barely contained worry.

"You said he just shouted then stopped responding?" Bruce clarified.

Damian nodded, looking at the phone still in Bruce's hand like it had threatened him.

"Okay," Bruce sighed, brushing his free hand over his jaw. "Okay. Let's look for signs of struggle."

And this was how you could immediately tell that the Wayne family was nowhere close to normal. Normal families would call the police.

The batfamily searched on their own, then only called the police later to keep up the civilian facade.

Dick stepped slowly back, then flinched forward when his shoulders met the walls solidly. The feeling of any walls touching him while his feet stood through the things on the floor almost made him want to bend over and vomit. But thinking about vomiting also made him stress about what would happen then and what the sick would touch or if it would make any noise at all. It was repulsive and horrible to think about, so he found a tiny place of clear flooring that wasn't near any walls and folded his arms across his chest.

He watched Bruce and Damian comb through his room, looking for any signs that his disappearance wasn't on his own power. Dick hoped they found something. A reason for why he was a ghost in his own room.

A solid thirty minutes passed before Bruce deemed Dick's bedroom clean. Evidence wise. Not literally. Dick was pretty sure his room was in an even bigger mess than what it had been before. He jerked out of the way of Bruce as he walked ignorantly past Dick towards the living room. Damian followed along, dragging his feet.

It was then Dick noticed Damian's hand wrap around the door’s handle. Pure terror shot through Dick's veins, which gave him just enough courage to quickly dart forward and purposely run through Damian into his living room before he was locked back in there again. He didn't know he was gasping and choking back horrified sobs until he felt the first tear tickle down his cheek and off his chin.

And this all felt so real suddenly. Like not being able to touch Damian—one of the most important people in Dick's entire life—was what gave it the official stamp of reality.

Dick was a living, breathing, walking ghost.

He couldn't touch anything. He couldn't be heard. He couldn't open doors or pick up phones or touch the shoulder of the man he had considered his father for longer than he had known his birth father.

It was all he could do to stand and force himself to breath—but did he even need to keep doing that?—and let his tears silently fall. He watched Bruce and Damian sift through the rest of his apartment and finish empty handed. It was hours later when Bruce suggested going back to the cave and checking Dick's phone for any possible clues. So, after Bruce hid a few sensors around to warn them if Dick "came back", they went to the front door while Dick made sure to stick as close as he could without going through them. He wiped under his eyes as they approached Bruce's car, his heart stuttering when he realized he didn't even know if he could even sit in the car with them without phasing through the seats. He might have to walk back to Gotham.

That would take… hours.

And oh God, would he starve? Would he be slowly forced to thirst to death because he couldn't touch any of the substances he needed to live?

Bruce opened the drivers door and Damian opened the passenger. Instead of thinking about the very real possibility that Dick probably had less than a few days left to live—if he was alive at all—Dick once again forced himself to go through Damian.

Somehow, against all odds, Dick was able to touch the car. Except, when his knees went through Damian's lap to touch the cushioned chair and his hands shot through Bruce's shoulder to support himself jumping into the back of the car, the normally well padded leather was stony and unrecognizable to his touch. It didn't give under the pressure of his weight or grip. It didn't sink around his touch. It remained like cement.

It felt like cement.

Dick curled up in the back seat, his heart jumping madly when both the drivers and passenger doors closed. He suddenly felt like a trapped animal. He had no will here. He didn't even bother to try the door handle of the back seat, because he knew it wouldn't go anywhere. The doors wouldn't open for him. The walls wouldn't bend. He brought his knees up to his chest as Bruce drove onto the road and as Damian turned on the radio.

And he… simply watched out the window and tried not to make too much noise that no one would hear anyway.

-o-o-o-o-

Getting out of the car door was more adrenaline inducing than standing toe to toe with Killer Croc. It was a good thing Dick was so flexible and had decades of experience with flipping his way through life. Thanks to that, he managed to jump out of the car just in the nick of time.

Seeing the manor like this hit differently. He was barely aware of Bruce and Damian walking past him towards the front doors until he saw Alfred open those aforementioned doors. Dick had to sprint to get inside, and he tried his best to not flinch as the door shut behind him. He didn't succeed.

Not that anybody saw.

"Master Dick?" Alfred asked, and more a heart stopping moment Dick almost thought Alfred was talking to him.

But then Bruce shook his head and began to shed his jacket.

"No sign of him. His apartment was locked and there was no sign of forced entry."

Alfred frowned and Damian shoved past them all, his body moving with less confidence than it normally did. Dick watched him go, desperately wanting nothing more than to race after him and gather him into the world's bestest hug, but Bruce was heading to the cave with Alfred trailing along. Dick had to help in whatever way he could to push Bruce into finding out what happened. Damian… could wait. He'll have to wait. It wasn't like Dick could do anything for him if he decided to follow after the clearly upset teen anyway.

"It's almost like he just vanished, Alfred," Bruce continued, his voice oddly wet. Dick's heart tied itself in a knot. "Into thin air."

"No one simply disappears into thin air," Alfred sniffed. "You will find him."

"Yeah," Bruce agreed, sounding unsure but determined at the same time. They walked into the study and Dick carefully followed them both into the cave through the narrow passage of grandfather clock.

Bruce quickly got to work and Dick stood back, careful to not touch anything. Bruce started the search as he always did, by sifting through traffic cams around the scene of the crime. And since it was Dick's apartment, he also had access to the normal security measures Dick had installed.

Hours passed and Dick soon found himself sinking to sit on the floor of the cave, watching as Bruce found nothing after nothing after nothing.

Dick could relate. He certainly felt like nothing.

-o-o-o-o-

Dick couldn't thirst or starve. He found that out on day three of this entire mess, slinking around from open door to open door, doing nothing but breathing and existing. Well, existing to no one but himself. He hadn't even realized he wasn't starving or dehydrated until Tim, Cass, Jason, and Duke showed up three nights later for a quick family dinner. Dick was touched that Bruce called them, and even more touched that they all came. But, as much as he was touched, he was also jealous of the meal Alfred provided. Frustrated that he didn't exist enough to join.

Bruce filled them all in on what little they knew on the situation and then they all spent the night patrolling Blüdhaven for clues. Dick didn't get into the Batmobile in time to follow along, so he spent the entire night trapped in the cave with Alfred's silent company.

He spent the nights wandering the hallways and avoiding everything he could walk through. He'd walk and walk and walk until he'd sit down in the middle of the dining room floor, where the carpet was short and didn't stab him like the shaggy carpet of bedrooms did. Where the animals were least likely to unknowingly fall asleep inside of him.

On the fifth day, he thought Alfred the Cat was watching him. He cried for hours later when he found the cat was just watching a fly.

Days ticked on. Dick was reported missing to the police. Damian talked less and less, smiled less and less. The others went back to their lives with "keep me updated" being mumbled before they went.

Dick continued to not exist.

When the second week passed by, Dick found himself sneaking outside when Alfred went to get the mail. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because it was raining and he was wondering if he'd be able to feel that.

He didn't. It just went through him and he ended up being trapped in the cold air outside, exploring the wet grounds and not making a single splash, until night came and Damian let Titus and Ace out for a quick potty break.

By the time the third week came around, things really started to change. It seemed Bruce was constantly talking to people. The police, the Justice League, Dick's friends, everyone who were trying to track him down… and it killed Dick to stand back and watch, clutching his stomach as nothing turned up and Bruce kept coming up with nothing. Dick wished he could leave some sort of message. A way to tell Bruce that he was right there. Just invisible and silenced. But there.

Dick would love to tell Bruce that he was right there. But at this point, Dick really began to wonder if he was really there at all.

What if he was dead? Living people didn't go for three weeks without eating or drinking and remain alive. Alive people don't walk through furniture or get trapped simply by closed doors.

But he couldn't tell Bruce. Which was why when the third week came up and Bruce once again ran into a dead end, he wasn't really all surprised to watch Bruce angrily hurtle his phone across the room and collapse into his chair with his hands in his hair, dangerously close to ripping the fine strands from his scalp.

The longer Bruce sat there, the more Dick was sure Bruce had finally given up. Batman couldn't find him. It was the waiting game now. Sit and wait and hope.

Dick left the room shortly after, his mind racing, loneliness running like a poison through his veins. He went to find Damian, but when he found the kid cuddled in a giant beanbag in the library, Alfred the Cat on his shoulder watching him draw carefully, he knew there wouldn't be anything here to reassure him that he'll be found. He walked around Damian anyway, bending down to look at what he was drawing.

His heart clenched. It was a portrait of Dick. Damian was carefully working on the details of his top lip, shading each little bump and pore with incredible accuracy.

Dick didn't look more at it. He left the library and roamed the halls, looking for an open door that he can sneak into and get some alone time. Just to calm down. Just to reassure himself that there was no way his family would leave him like this forever.

That they haven't truly given up on him. That the whispered words of maybe he's dead and he's not coming back, is he haven't actually been said.

He finally found a room with an open door and he immediately squeezed inside. The room was smaller, which made his anxiety climb ever so slightly, but it was also close to empty with a clear enough space for him to sit down and meditate without touching and going through anything. The door must have been opened by Damian. The kid had been searching out silent places to be alone quite often recently, sometimes forcing Bruce to search the halls, calling his name loudly until Damian finally revealed himself.

Dick sat down and breathed.

Of course, it couldn't be so easy. His brain immediately recalled back to Bruce looking defeated. To Damian painstakingly crafting every detail of Dick's face with a pencil like he was worried he'd someday forget what Dick looked like. To Jason not having been over in way too long; reports in Blüdhaven of Red Hood being spotted on multiple occasions. To Tim who accidentally referred to Dick in the past tense a couple days ago and looked sick with himself the moment he realized what he said. To Cass who would somehow stroll the same halls as him when she's over until they pass by his bedroom door and she would stop and frown and walk away. To Duke who looked at his portraits Bruce had on the walls and look like he desperately wanted to understand something that he'd never actually be able to now.

They've all given up. He knew it was only a matter of time before there was an empty casket funeral.

He wondered if he could make that a reality. Death. He didn't need to eat or drink. What if he just… stopped breathing? What if he clawed out his own throat with his nails? What if the next time Alfred opened a window to air out an old, unused room on the highest floor he just jumped out?

Or would the world be so cruel as to keep him like this for the rest of eternity? Forced to watch as he's given up on, buried, and forgotten? He didn't want to die. Not like this. Not in name before body.

And not for the first time since Dick inexplicably became a ghost, he felt his throat choke on the beginnings of a sob.

He curled up a bit, trying to staunch it because he had quickly become annoyed with the sound of his own voice. Why could he still hear it when no one else could? It was awful. Like his words and noises we're all just in his head and he was only hearing what he thought he should hear.

He gasped wetly, wiping under his eyes and trying to stop this all from happening again. He had already cried enough these last few weeks. He couldn't keep crying every time he felt alone.

He bent in on himself further, his arms curling around his stomach in such a way that if he imagined hard enough they belonged to someone else and he was in another's calming embrace. It didn't work though. He knew he was alone. He couldn't pretend.

He was so deep in this attack of utter turmoil and unhappiness that he didn't notice approaching footsteps until he heard the sound of creaking door hinges followed quickly by a click of a door latch.

Dick looked up with blurry, panicked eyes.

The door. The door was closed.

"No," Dick breathed. "No no-" he scrambled to his feet, all the blood rushed from his head and combined with the terrible spike of horror to make him perfectly lightheaded as he stumbled to the door and wrapped his hands around the knob. It didn't budge. "NO!"

He spun around, barely aware of his already panting breaths and frantically searched the room for a hopefully open window.

The window was closed. He didn't know why he even looked.

"Fuck," he gasped, grabbing his chest as it constricted tightly. More tightly than what he had felt in a long time. It felt so painful that it was all he could do to turn and bang a closed fist on the door. He wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like. "HELP!"

He didn't know why he was calling out. Hitting the door like he thought it might make noise.

No one would hear him.

"ALFRED!" Dick screamed. "BR-" he was forced to stop mid-word on that one thanks to a heaving gasp that curled dangerously in-between his ribcage. He swallowed. Or tried to. "BRUCE!"

He kicked the door. Covered one hand over his mouth and tried to calm down. Tried to not think about the solid walls and the solid door and how he was powerless to leave this room. Why did he come in here in the first place?!

He couldn't calm down. All he could think about was how screwed he was. How hopeless everything was. He kept his hand on his mouth as his legs eventually gave out. He brought his knees to his chin and laid on his side atop the carpeted floor, babbling cries and names and pleas until his throat was raw and everything woozy.

He didn't know how or when he finally passed out, only that he woke up to a still closed door and a still small room, and it took every ounce of his will power to not immediately cry again right then and there. He stayed curled up on the ground and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around his stomach and tried to pretend that everything would work out. Eventually everything would be okay.

He was wrong.

It took two weeks for the door to open for Alfred's regular airing out of the rooms to reach the one he was trapped in.

By then, he didn't even know if he should bother to stand up and walk out.

Not when he was surely no longer alive. Not when he felt perfectly content just laying here being dead.

But the thought of that door closing again and him having no power over it eventually managed to force him stumbling to his wobbly feet and walking out.

He didn't know what to expect when he shuffled slowly deeper into the manor. More than a month has passed since his disappearance. Most people don't keep a whole lot of hope for a missing person to return after this long. By this time, people normally began to suggest funerals quietly between each other.

It didn't take long to find the family. What shocked him though was that everyone was together in the living room, even Alfred who must have finished opening certain doors and windows to refresh the stale air inside the rooms they belong to and walked back quicker than Dick. A movie was playing, some Pixar movie Dick hadn't seen before because of his busy lifestyle.

And for some reason, this hurt more than if he came in here to find them alone, mourning, depressed.

They're all watching a movie together. Bruce on the recliner, Damian squeezed between him and the arm of the recliner even though there was more room in other places. Jason sprawled over the three cushioned sofa, his legs resting over Duke, Cass, and Tim like a makeshift blanket. Alfred had his own recliner to himself, reading a book to himself but occasionally glancing up towards the screen. Steph was there too, but she had made herself comfortable on the floor with the entity of the living room's decorative pillows.

They're all watching a movie together.

Dick had been trying to get that to happen for months. And they're doing it now, when he's gone with no foreseeable way to get back.

Dick slowly sank to the floor and watched them poke each other and whisper quips to each other and laugh at the funny bits with each other.

Was this the life he was doomed to have for the rest of eternity? Chasing open doors and watching people move on from him? Do things simply in his memory?

If he had tears left to cry, he would have shed them.

Instead, he just sat there and watched.

-o-o-o-o-

Dick's funeral was four months later. The gossip channels and media said they have finally given up. Dick thought they held on for longer than most.

He didn't attend his own funeral. He didn't want it to feel final. He didn't want the undeniable proof that they've stopped searching. He didn't want to see them cry for him.

So he walked the manor grounds opposite of the family graveyard. He kicked his feet as he walked, pretending that his footsteps carried weight on the grass and that he was solid enough to disturb the smallest pebbles on the stone pathway.

Maybe he was dead. Maybe this was hell. He didn't remember where he went, if he went anywhere, when Lex Luthor killed him, but maybe this was it. He didn't know what killed him or what happened to his body, but he was starting to become convinced that he really was simply a ghost, cursed to walk the world and watch people move on and live on without him.

Half a year ago, that would have settled horribly into his gut. Now? He was numb.

He continued to walk, to let his mind drift. Pretend he was alive for a little while longer before he returned to the manor and the services and dinners and receptions were over. Decide what to do now that his life was now officially over.

He sighed and ignored the feeling that he's just as trapped out here in the manor grounds as he was in that room all those months ago. Ho continued to roam.

Though, the sound of a humming voice had him stopping in his tracks.

No one should be over here. They all should be back at the funeral. Dick immediately focused on the noise, not even bothering to step carefully or approach cautiously. It wasn't like Dick could be seen or heard anyway. He just wanted to see who had snuck into these parts of the grounds while his literal funeral was going on. It was strange and horrible to think about, but come on? A little respect please? He hoped it wasn't some paparazzi. It meant that they'd somehow gotten through Bruce's security… which also meant that Bruce was more depressed about this than what Dick initially thought. He'd seen Bruce get low these past few months, but never low enough to sacrifice the safety of the people he provided shelter to.

Dick walked towards the grove of trees that the humming was coming from and frowned when he eventually saw the back of a person strolling through the controlled nature. The man was taller than Dick—which wasn't a difficult achievement—and was wearing a simple brown-orange hoodie with dark blue jeans. His hair was dirty blonde and styled up like someone glued a giant ball of cotton to his scalp. Dick didn't recognize him, which instantly set off alarm bells inside his head. The open house reception should be over but the rest of the services were all reserved for close family and friends of Dick's. But this man… he couldn't be someone that was invited.

Not for the first time, Dick felt the crippling weight of helplessness wash over him. This man could be dangerous, but Dick couldn't do a thing. He couldn't warn anyone.

He could just watch it happen.

Or… ignore it.

He shook his head and sighed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of the same pair of sweats he'd been wearing since that fateful night half a year ago. He almost began to approach further, because even though he was helpless to change anything or warn anyone, he was still curious… but then the man turned around and Dick was stopped in his tracks.

He didn't... He didn't have a face.

Dick gaped and watched as the bumps in the man's face that must be cheekbones rose ever so slightly.

"Oh!" The man said, even though he had no mouth. Dick had absolutely no idea where the sound came from. "You are here!"

Dick turned around behind him, and saw nobody. Something fluttered in his chest. A hope he didn't dare grasp at even though… even though… the man could only be talking to him.

"We lost track of you after the convergence. Most people stick around where they disappear!"

"Are you…" Dick tried, his voice barely recognizable even to himself, "are you talking to me?"

The limited features of the man's blank face softened. "Yes I am, Dick Grayson. You've been lost a long time."

And Dick… didn't know what to do. This entire time he's had absolutely no contact with anything in the world. He couldn't move anything, couldn't touch anything, couldn't speak or make himself known. This scene before him, one where his voice was heard and he was answered… it was so foreign. Unreal. Dick almost reached down to pinch himself.

"But luckily," the man continued, "after a long time searching for you at your home city, we figured you must have found a way to your family. That or began to aimlessly wonder like others like you sometimes do."

"Like… me?"

"Yes," the man nodded then took a step closer. Dick stood his ground as his thoughts ran circles in his brain. What was going on? "You're trapped within the folds of reality, Dick Grayson. It's not something that commonly happens, but something that can be catastrophic if we cannot find you immediately." He paused. "You are Nightwing in this world, are you not? You must understand how the universes work in odd ways."

Dick wanted to nod. Laugh. Cry. Step forward and see if he could touch the man. But he didn't. He just stood there as the man continued.

"You see," the man said, bringing a hand up to his featureless chin, "what happened was that this universe brushed sides with another one. One that's almost exactly the same in every aspect to yours. Normally, when universes brush, they're so different that they reject each other and go on their merry way down the time stream. The problem was, that because these two universes were so similar, reality as we knew it, well, it got a little confused. It tried to sort out what belonged to what. It gets it wrong sometimes, which is why you're like this. In the universe you brushed with, Dick Grayson was dead. Everything else was exactly the same, but because you were dead and alive the universe decided to make you both. This is why you're stuck here. The universe can't remember if you should be living or dead."

Dick never pretended to understand the multiverse. It always seemed the rules were constantly changing. Shifting to accommodate spontaneous things. It seemed the only one who truly had a grasp on the entirety of the universe was Bart Allen, but the kid was shockingly tight lipped about most secrets of reality despite his superhero name of Impulse.

And really, Dick didn't care how he ended up like this. All he could really think was how this man could see him. Was looking for him. Something was finally going to change. Whether he was supposed to be fully dead or fully alive... He didn't really care.

He couldn't stand around, trapped in his own intangible body, and do nothing for much longer.

"So… what does this mean?" Dick asked. "What happens now?"

The man's face squished oddly, and Dick couldn't figure out what he was thinking at all. "What happens now is that we make things right. Return you to the universe you're supposed to be dead in, and keep you in the universe you're supposed to be alive. It will be painful, but don't worry, neither of you will remember a thing."

"Neither-?"

Dick's question didn't get much further, because in an impossible blink of an eye, the man was right in front of Dick, hand pressing against the side of his head with his thumb pressed above the bridge of Dick's nose. Lightning shot through him, and his vision whited out. Everything became too much and so little at the same time. Hot and cold. Loud and silent. He might have screamed or he might have sighed.

Either way, the sensation didn't last for long.

Soon he wasn't feeling anything at all.

-o-o-o-o-

Damian hated this. He knew death and sorrow unlike most others. He had seen men and women fall in so many ways it was impossible to list them all. He had seen the way a corpse would slowly rot, and stink, and collapse. He had seen bodies feasted upon by wolves and flies alike.

He knew death. Yet, for a number of reasons, he just couldn't comprehend this one.

Because Richard couldn't be dead. He couldn't be. He was simply missing. Nowhere to be found.

He wasn't dead.

Damian didn't understand why everyone else insisted on believing otherwise. Father had said that he's searched, and for some reason that meant if Batman couldn't find him then he must not be able to be found. No one besides Damian argued with him. Even Timothy didn't believe him.

He at least had the decency to look ashamed when Damian called him out on it.

However, it seemed Damian's thoughts and feelings on the matter didn't, well, matter. Even though he was the last one to speak to Richard. Even though he knew for sure that Richard was somewhere alive out there, doing everything he could to get home. Damian swore he would continue to believe in that. No matter what. Even if these months turned into years. Even if Damian no longer remembered every detail of his face by thought alone.

Father wouldn't let him skip out on the fake funeral though.

Which was horrible for a massive amount of reasons. All of Richard's friends were here, sobbing and blabbering like children. The empty casket sat above a deep hole with flowers piled on top, and one by one someone would approach, say something emotional out loud or under their breath, then leave the flower in the mockery of Richard's life.

Damian was glad that his immediate family went first. That way he could slink to the back of the crowd and hold Titus by the leash. Watch from afar. Plan for the millionth time on how he was going to fix this.

That speedster… Wally West was in the middle of breaking down on top of the casket with large tears cascading down his cheeks when Damian felt a tug on the leash. Damian frowned and looked down at his normally perfectly behaved dog to see the animal trying to tug Damian towards the unoccupied grounds of the manor. Damian tugged Titus gently back, tutting at him under his breath.

Except, Titus didn't stay at Damian's side for long. The animal took one wide eyed look at Damian before turning tail and sprinting. The leash was yanked out from Damian's hand, and it was all Damian could do to not shout in surprise or outrage.

He nervously shot a look at the casket, where Donna Troy was now saying her goodbyes while West leaned onto her for support, making sure no one was watching him, then turned to chase after his disrespectful dog.

It might be a fake funeral, but it was a funeral nonetheless.

Damian ran after Titus, jumping over shrubbery and flowers like they were the gaps between rooftops, diving for the trailing leash whenever he got close enough.

He never got close enough.

Out of breath and covered in grass stains and twigs, Damian watched with glaring eyes as Titus took refuge in a carefully planned grove of trees. Thankfully, Damian saw the dog halt on the other side of a bush, bending his neck down to sniff at something. Probably a wild animal. Even though Damian could have sworn he trained Titus better than to chase rabbits or squirrels.

Damian stuffed his hands in his suit pockets and began to stomp his way over.

"Titus! Quit this misbehaving!"

Titus looked up from what he was sniffing, whined, then bent back down. Completely ignoring Damian.

What was going on with that dog?

Damian walked around the clump of bushes and between the trees, extremely curious as to what was so important that Titus would disregard orders for it.

When Damian saw what Titus was bent over, Damian felt every single molecule of air leave his body like he had been sucker-punched in the stomach.

"Richard?" Damian breathed. Double took. "Richard!"

He sprinted forward and Titus quickly jumped out of the way. Horrified and terrified and shaking, Damian grabbed Richard's shoulders and turned him around, for he was laying face down on the ground.

Richard groaned, but didn't open his eyes. Blood trickled down the corners of his lips and nose. His clothes were filthy. He looked like death.

But he was alive.

Damian turned to his good, good dog. "Go! Get father! Hurry!"

Titus didn't have to be told twice. He barked then sprinted back to the forest.

Damian turned back to Richard, running his hands across his body, taking in the loss of weight, the eye bags, the stains of mud all over his clothes. He shook his shoulders, trying to wake him up, but Richard remained asleep to the world.

It took a second to realize he was crying.

Thankfully, he was able to wipe them away when a confused and worried Bruce Wayne busted into the grove of trees along with the rest of the family and even a few of Richard's friends. Gasps and shouts filled the air, and Damian soon found himself pushed back as Dick was rushed to by the adults.

The ambulance was called not long after.

The drive to the hospital seemed like a dream.

The wait felt like it took years, but Richard only took about three hours to wake up, severely starved and dehydrated and not a single memory of the past five months.

And somehow, everything went back to normal. Richard was released from the hospital a few days later with a strict meal plan and physical therapy schedule. His memories didn't return, but sometimes Damian noticed things had changed in Richard since then.

Like his new and strange fear of small spaces and closed doors.

It didn't matter though. Damian was just… overjoyed that he was right and that Richard was still living a breathing, even if it seemed he had simply vanished and reappeared from thin air, with no trace of anything in-between.

All that mattered was that the family was whole again. Richard was on the road of a full recovery.

No one could ask for more.

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goulets · 3 years

Text

Heartland

Chapter: 2/8 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Barbara Gordon, Alfred Pennyworth Rating: T (for now) Case Fic/Kid Fic a03 link

The first suggestion is that Jason move back into his old room, just down the hall from Bruce's which is met with an unequivocal not on your fucking life, Bruce.

“Let's get one thing clear: I am not 'moving back in',” Jason hisses, glaring around at all of them. He's whispering so as not to wake the baby, and it doesn't come off quite as intimidating as he'd like. “I just need a bed to sleep in, that's it. Don't do me any fucking favors.”

Dick says, “There's an empty bedroom next to mine, it's not that big, and the bathroom is shared, but – ”

“Sold,” Jason says, and again, the infant sleeping in his arms makes a good old-fashioned broody storm-off kind of impractical.

(jason)

The first suggestion is that Jason move back into his old room, just down the hall from Bruce's which is met with an unequivocal not on your fucking life, Bruce.

“Let's get one thing clear: I am not 'moving back in',” Jason hisses, glaring around at all of them. He's whispering so as not to wake Danielle, and it doesn't come off quite as intimidating as he'd like. “I just need a bed to sleep in, that's it. Don't do me any fucking favors.”

Dick says, “There's an empty bedroom next to mine, it's not that big, and the bathroom is shared, but – ”

“Sold,” Jason says, and again, the infant sleeping in his arms makes a good old-fashioned broody storm-off kind of impractical.

“Okay,” Dick nods. “I'll, um, just show you then.” Bruce looks impassive, and Tim looks like he doesn't quite know what to do with himself, as Dick walks past Jason and Jason follows him up the steps to the main part of the mansion.

Jason doesn't like following behind Dick. It's partly the principle of the thing, because he literally had to die and rise from the grave to get out of Dick's shadow, and even then, it's a matter of distance, and little more. He's far enough off the path of righteousness that the light that shines like a beacon onto Dick doesn't even touch him. So it feels like old news, a habit he grew out of long ago, walking behind Dick, tracing his footfalls, but it's so familiar he half expects to see those stupid fucking pixie boots on his feet when he looks down.

Then there's the other familiar part, the part he’s been struggling not to acknowledge, the awareness that’s been growing in the back of his mind since he set up camp in Gotham. Simply put, Dick is hot. His ass in spandex was the source of way too many semis popped Jason's stupid, flimsy little Robin shorts, and his ass in faded pajama pants is nothing short of miraculous either. But it's not just his body, although Jason wishes it was, not just the shape of his ass and the curve of his spine and the span of his shoulders – Dick is beautiful. He's elegant when he moves, when he laughs, when he's angry, when he's worried, when he's a fucking mess. It's impossible not to look at him, the attention he commands is probably partly due to the fact that he was raised a performer, and partly because that's just Dick.

Jason knows he's one in a long, heavily annotated list of people to fantasize about Dick Grayson. It used to keep him up at night when he was a kid, and not just in that way. There hadn't been a lot of tolerance in the streets for homosexuality – sure, it existed, Jason'd even been on the receiving end once or twice in the unlucky parts of his youth – but you didn't talk about it. So he'd suppressed it, save for those late night visits from his hand in the dark, and then he'd died. Been sprung from the grave, grew up a little, and came back to find that, surprise surprise, the world had grown up a little bit too, and not entirely for the worse. And since then, he's had encounters with men, women, couple aliens, and all that is whatever. This thing with Dick doesn't bother him on account of Dick, well, having a dick. Not anymore.

No, it bothers him because it's Dick fucking Grayson. Golden Boy, Boy Wonder, or as Jason likes to refer to him, Stupid Fucking Bastard With Stupid Fucking Sticks Who Just Won't Fucking Quit. Out of all of them, Dick's the most unchanged. Bruce is hardened, less trusting; Tim is broken; Jason is – whatever the fuck he is, beyond all hope, maybe; but Dick's never lost the spring in his step. Jason thinks he'll probably backflip right into death with a smile on his face, and he won't come back, because Dick is too damn good to be reanimated like some freakish perversion of nature. Jason calls Tim “Replacement” because it's true, Jason was replaceable, but Dick never was. Not that Jason had ever wanted to be his replacement – he hardly knows what he wanted to be to Dick then, even less what he wants to be to Dick now, but it sure as hell isn't some bullshit co-parenting gig with the whole family breathing down his neck.

Of all the fucking days he had to drag his ass down here to gossip.

Dick says, “So, this is it,” and Jason realizes they're outside his new room. The room he's staying in. The room the baby is staying in. That's all it is.

It's not small at all, of course, and the bathroom he's sharing with Dick is also not small, with a stand-up shower and a jacuzzi sized tub, because that's necessary, two sinks, and a ridiculous amount of storage space. He doesn't look at Dick's room, just takes in the furnishings of his own, a queen bed with slate-grey sheets, closet, dresser, desk, bookshelves with a good number of books already on them, and a little windowseat that for some reason makes the back of his throat feel itchy to look at.

Danielle makes a small noise in his arms, and something occurs to him. “Um, where's she supposed to sleep?” He's not an expert, but he's pretty sure babies need cradles – actually, and a lot of other shit, like diaper cream, special baby soap, pacifiers, those sling contraptions he sees people walking around with, and probably a billion other things he has no freaking clue about.

Dick says, “Huh. Good question.”

Helpful, Jason thinks. She can't sleep with him, can she? What if he rolls on top of her? What if she rolls off the bed? What if he has a nightmare and pummels her to death in his sleep? The thought makes him want to be sick, what is he thinking, trying to be some kind of fucking caregiver –

“Jason? You okay?”

Jason blinks. It dawns on him that he's been frozen in place for several seconds now, mind overloaded with the sheer volume of information he doesn't know, endless blank pages supplemented by a thoroughly sourced index of his fears. It's not like he planned for this – ever – he's pretty sure parental ineptitude runs in the family, because his mom sure as fuck never read What to Expect When You're Expecting.

He says, “Doesn't she need some kind of special baby doctor?”

Dick nods. “Bruce'll have Leslie come by and look at her soon. According to the hospital records, she missed her three-month check-in, so.”

“Dick.” Jason tries, and fails, probably, to keep the overwhelming helplessness he's feeling out of his voice. “What the fuck, man – this is crazy. I can't – I don't – where is she supposed to sleep?”

“I can answer that,” comes Alfred's clipped tone from the doorway. Jason turns to see the older man hauling an enormous, tall box into the room.

Jason says, “The hell?” at the same time that Dick rushes forward and says, “Here, let me help you,” and that about sums it up, he thinks.

“Her sleeping quarters,” Alfred says. He and Dick lay the box down, and Jason feels his stomach churn unpleasantly at the picture on the front of a smiling, drooling blonde-haired baby standing in a white wooden crib, fat little fists wrapped around the railing.

“You work fast, Alfie,” Dick comments, hauling another box into the room. This one says Changing Table on the side, and then Alfred pushes a rocking chair in, and Jason will be damned if it isn’t a whole fucking matching baby bedroom set.

“Where the hell did you even get this?” he asks, incredulous. He’s been at the manor two hours tops, hardly enough time for even Alfred to go out shopping for an entire room’s worth of furniture.

“Same-day delivery,” Alfred says smoothly. “I find that being a frequent, loyal customer expedites the process somewhat.”

“You don’t fucking say,” Jason mutters under his breath. Dick is now bringing in box after box of diapers, six huge shopping bags full of baby crap Jason would rather do just about anything than sort through, and some disassembled swing-looking contraption that promises “15 soothing melodies and nature sounds”. The room, suddenly, doesn’t seem so big anymore.

“Hmm,” Dick frowns, looking around. He must be noticing the same thing as Jason. “Honestly, I don’t see all this fitting in here. Alfie, what do you think?”

“You have the adjoining room, do you not, Master Richard?” Alfred replies. He surveys their haul, looking satisfied. Jason feels a tiny bit like he’s going to have a nervous breakdown, which is more or less where he’s been since Danielle was placed in his arms to begin with.

He’d been deadly serious when he’d told Bruce that he’d take her and protect her, but true to half-cocked form, he hadn’t even begun to parse out what that meant. Now that he’s standing in a room that looks like a Babies R’ Us blew up in it, with a human being the size of a loaf of bread snoozing and twitching in his arms, he doesn’t know what he could have possibly been thinking. What Bruce could possibly have been thinking, letting him walk away with her.

Well. Actually, Jason thinks, that about tracks for Bruce’s idea of fatherhood. In Jason’s experience, anyways.

“We’ll put the crib here, I think,” Dick says, leaning the box against the wall opposite the bed. “Changing table can go next to it, and I guess put the rocking chair in the other corner? Bottle stuff should go in the bathroom, and, hmm…” he trails off. “Yeah, we’ll just put the swing in my room. Don’t worry about it, Alfie, I’ll take care of it. You’ve done more than enough, seriously.”

“I’ll leave it to you boys, then,” Alfred says, picking up some of the discarded shopping bags and tucking them under his arm. He gives Jason a long look, like there’s something he wants to say, but seems to think better of it. Jason doesn’t know whether or not to be disappointed.

The silence that falls once Alfred leaves is awkward, bordering on oppressive. Dick doesn’t seem to notice, just keeps opening boxes and stuffing things in drawers and putting on a show of looking like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Jason knows better - can see how haphazardly he’s putting things away, how he’s moving around just to avoid being still. It’s a relief, in a way, to know that he’s not the only one completely out of his depth.

Still, he can’t deny Dick is being about a billion times more useful than him. What else is new.

“I’m just gonna stick this in the closet,” Dick says about a box containing a carseat. “We’ll figure it out later.”

Jason frowns. His car right now is a piece of crap Volvo that certainly shouldn't be hauling around anything as fragile as a baby. Not like he can take her on the bike, either. If they have to make a quick getaway, he’s looking at one-handed free running, or getting some new wheels posthaste.

Danielle grunts and yawns, stretching her tiny hands up and clawing at the material of his jacket. He pats her back, and she settles back into the crook of his arm. It tears at him, a little, watching her burrow into the leather, mouth occasionally opening and sucking, leaving little damp spots in her wake. She’s warm as hell now, practically a furnace, and he frankly wishes he had taken the damn jacket off before she got all comfortable, but he’d rather eat his own gun than put her down. It’s shocking to realize, but he wants her to be closer, wants to hold her right against his skin, against his heartbeat. He’s never felt this way about anything before, about anyone.

He clears his throat. “You seem bizarrely familiar with all this crap,” he says to Dick. “How do you - I mean, I don’t even have a clue what that thing is,” he gestures to the piece of fabric Dick is holding. It looks like the world’s longest scarf.

“It’s a wrap,” Dick says. “It’s for holding the baby. Or ‘wearing’, I think they call it. It’s nice for keeping your hands free. Roy had one for Lian, but it had a lot more buckles than this.”

Jason blinks. Roy, of course. Roy’s told him how much Dick has helped him out when he got full custody of Lian, back when she was still a baby. No wonder Dick is able to snap into action so easily. Jason’s spent a little time around Roy’s daughter, but she’s usually with her grandparents when they get together. For the best, since most of his team-ups with Roy have ended in shootouts and/or catastrophic explosions.

Just another reason he has absolutely no fucking business being anywhere near an infant.

“Hey,” Tim says from the doorway. “Um, here’s this pillow thing.” He holds out a box labeled Infant Lounger, and Jason is officially calling bullshit, there’s absolutely no way babies need this many goddamn surfaces to simply exist upon when, as far as he can tell from his one hour of baby experience, there’s no chance you’d ever want to put one down anyways. It’s all just one big racket - except for the diapers, probably.

“Thanks, Tim,” Dick sighs, opening the box and pulling out the lounger. It’s covered in a cutesy little whale pattern. “Well, that’s adorable, isn’t it?”

Tim looks skeptical. “If you say so.”

Jason narrows his eyes. “You didn’t come up here just to deliver a whale pillow, Replacement.” Dick shoots him a reproachful look, but screw him. “What’d you find out?”

Tim, to his credit, looks relieved to have an excuse to get to the real reason he’s there. “Well, we can officially rule out anyone from Intergang as a suspect. Their whole operation is a bust now. Word is Mannheim is pulling all the survivors out and regrouping, probably off-world.” He nods to Jason. “We’ve ruled the League of Assassins out, too.”

“So, who does that leave?” Dick asks. “Locals? Who are the major players in the East End?”

“There aren’t any,” Tim says. “The whole neighborhood’s been a power vacuum since...well.”

“Since me,” Jason snorts.

“It’s all small-time gangs, nobody with the firepower or the logistic capability to pull something like this off,” Tim goes on. “Which means we’re either looking at somebody new, or there’s a major territory grab that we somehow haven’t caught wind of.”

“Who patrols the East End now, anyways?” Jason asks.

“Nobody, unless Barbara sends the Birds out there. Used to be you,” Tim says mildly.

Jason works his jaw. “Last I checked, your boss is the one who wanted me out of there.”

“Last I checked, you didn’t take orders from him,” Tim replies, voice cool and even. Jason suddenly understands what an infant lounger is for - it’s a safe resting spot to hold your baby when you need both hands to throttle your aggravating family members.

“Oh, knock it off, both of you,” Dick says irritably. “Tim, are you running down leads for this?”

“I guess so,” Tim shrugs. “I was here on the Intergang expansion in the first place. Bruce and I are going to check out the bodies later this evening, get ballistics reports and see what else we can find. The paperwork is coming in pretty slow on the law enforcement side of things.”

Jason twists his mouth in disgust. “GCPD, dragging their heels? Shocking.”

“Pretty much,” Tim affirms. “They’re just happy the Intergang faction’s dealt with. I don’t think they want to look into it too closely.”

Even with a baby on the hit list, Jason thinks bitterly. It’s enough to make a person want to pick up and move altogether.

Danielle moves suddenly in his arms, stretching her tiny body and kicking one leg out against his ribs. She whines, twisting her head away, and when she turns back to look at him, her brown eyes are wide and watery.

“Shit,” he murmurs. “Dick, help. She doesn’t look happy to see me.”

Dick appears at his shoulder. Danielle whines again, flailing her limbs against Jason’s chest.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Dick coos, right in Jason’s ear. Oh, sweet Jesus, Jason did not think this one through at all. He feels his face flush, and has to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at Dick to back the fuck up.

“Look at you,” Dick goes on, oblivious. “You’re awake now, huh? You need some attention, sweetie?” His breath is warm against Jason’s neck. Jason is going to crawl out of his skin.

Danielle’s eyes flicker towards the sound of Dick’s voice. She grunts, then turns abruptly and mouths at Jason’s armpit. Jason feels like his heart is gonna jump out of his goddamn throat. It’s been - God, he doesn’t even know, months? The better part of a year? - since he was this close to another person without his helmet on. His brain is screaming at him, escape, fight, neutralize, but even louder, there’s a piece of him overriding everything, a fist deep in his chest clenched around something he thought he’d left back in the Pit.

Danielle whines louder, kicking, and the fist clenches tighter.

“I don’t - ” he starts to say. His voice comes out breathy and ragged, he stops. Swallows. Get a grip, for fuck’s sake. “Maybe you should take her, I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing.”

“Just rock her,” Dick suggests. His arm comes around to Jason’s elbow, and now Jason can’t help it, he jerks away violently. The little body in his arms goes stock still for a moment, hiccups, and then the sound of wailing fills the room.

Jason swears. “I’m sorry,” he tells her, like that means a damn thing to a baby. “Shit, I’m really sorry, Danielle.” He holds her upright against his shoulder, rubbing her back like he’s seen Roy do with Lian when she’s upset. “I’m an asshole, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She hiccups again, and makes a displeased noise that sounds vaguely chastising. Fair enough, he deserves it. Anything is better than crying.

Dick is looking at him, overbright, and Jason averts his eyes. Briefly, he makes eye contact with Tim, who looks incredibly uncomfortable. Good.

“I think we’ll leave the morgue investigation to you guys,” Dick says to Tim. He seems to have realized he overstepped. “There’s a lot to do here, and I still have my regular patrol. I’m guessing you’re going to the docks this evening,” he addresses Jason.

“I want to, but.” Jason rocks Danielle pointedly. “Kinda got my hands full here.”

“You don’t think we can leave her for a few hours?”

“What the fuck, no,” Jason says, incredulous. “Even if she wasn’t being targeted by some psycho, you can’t just leave a baby, what’s wrong with you.”

“Even I knew that,” Tim says, obnoxiously.

“She wouldn’t be alone, jeez,” Dick protests. “Alfred is here.”

“I’m protecting her,” Jason reminds him darkly. “Alfred has enough shit on his plate.”

“Okay,” Dick says, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “She’s pretty attached to you anyways, so you’re right, it’s probably best if we do that.”

Jason isn’t sure whether or not he’s being patronized, but flips Dick the bird just to be safe. Dick pretends not to notice.

“Drake, your input is being requested in the Cave,” Damian announces from the doorway. Christ, it’s a whole fucking family reunion, and he can’t escape. “Personally, I hadn’t even noticed your absence.”

Tim’s expression goes from vaguely aggrieved to fully constipated, which soothes some of Jason’s irritation. Bruce’s demon spawn is a complete and utter terror, but he’s so like his mother that Jason can’t help liking him. He’s not stupid enough to look down on him in a fight - he heard secondhand what Robin did to Victor Zsasz - but his heart’s just not in it when he spars with Damian. So sue him, he’s got a soft spot for kids, no matter how lethal they are.

“Keep me updated,” Jason says to Tim.

Tim nods, one hand on the doorframe as he exits. “Will do. Sure you don’t want to come along? Autopsy is daytime work.”

Jason grimaces. “Been there, done that. You guys can poke at dead people, I prefer to get my answers from ones that are breathing.”

Damian scoffs audibly. “Breathing until you finish with them, you mean?”

Jason ignores him. He turns his attention back to Danielle, who is starting to mouth at the collar of his jacket more aggressively. Shit, he probably shouldn’t let her do that. This jacket isn’t too old, at least, but he’s smoked his way through a dozen packs of cigarettes in it already, not to mention all the bad guy spatter it’s probably absorbed. Surface cleaners can only do so much.

“Perhaps you’d like to offer her this,” Damian says imperiously, holding out a bottle. “You know, children her age require feeding every three to four hours.”

“...Thanks,” Jason says, suspicious. He doesn’t think Damian would attack him when he’s holding a baby, but he looks like he’s considering it. Warily, he takes the bottle. It’s warm. “Did you make it?”

“It’s infant formula,” Damian replies bitingly. “It requires no scientific mastery.”

Alfred made it, then. Jason exchanges a look with Dick, who quirks an eyebrow almost imperceptibly.

“You don’t need to stay, Damian,” Dick says. “I’m just gonna be putting together furniture. You probably have homework to do, right?”

Damian looks affronted. “My studies aren’t so taxing, Grayson. What furniture?”

“Baby furniture, for Danielle. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “You’re dismissing me because you want me to argue, so that I’ll stay and help you.”

Dick is the picture of innocence. “I really don’t need help. I assembled all the furniture in my apartment, I know what I’m doing.”

“I also know what you’re doing.” Damian walks to the box holding the crib pieces, hands on his hips. “A simpleton could do this.”

“They make it pretty user friendly.”

“I’ll get my tools.”

Dick looks quite pleased with himself as Damian rushes off. Jason can’t help but laugh.

“Nice,” he says, shaking his head at Dick’s impish grin. “Hold her for a second, I’m gonna take my jacket off.”

Danielle whines more insistently when he passes her to Dick, and doesn’t stop when he takes her back. He cradles her upright in one arm, bouncing her a little to keep her distracted, and touches the nipple of the bottle to her mouth. She latches on eagerly, and he tries and fails not to smile at her enthusiasm, the delighted kicking of her legs as she eats, her eyes trained on his face like laser beams. He feels - full, almost, like a balloon in his chest is slowly filling up, a window he’d nailed and soldered shut is being pried open again.

There are holes in Jason’s memory, things the Pit couldn’t restore, fragments of his life that were beaten out of him, or left in the ground, or atrophied and rotted away during his lost year after waking up. When he first came back to Gotham, he’d filled all those empty spaces with rage and spite, but he’d burned through it all in a few months and found there wasn’t enough left over to keep filling them, to stop him from noticing the edges of remembering in his mind, the sensation of familiarity that would abruptly fade into nothing. He’s learned to navigate around them, but there’s never been a moment that he hasn’t known they are there. They’re a constant reminder that he died Jason Todd and came back Almost Jason Todd, the same person but without all the pieces.

The feeling he has, feeding Danielle - the warm smell of her, the force of her gaze, so human and yet so alien, the clutch-and-pull of her small hands against the fabric of his shirt and the scarred skin of his hand - it’s like she’s reached right into the center of him and dragged forth the memory of being whole. He isn’t, he won’t ever be, but he can remember it, and it absolutely takes his breath away.

“You good?” Dick asks, softly.

Jason swallows. “Uh-huh,” he manages. It’s a damn good question. Jason isn’t frequently good, he’s often satisfied, often pissed off, often (less often, now) steeped so deep in madness he’s out of his mind. This is something else, he thinks. Something close to shattered, but it’s also close to good, because even though he’s in a thousand goddam pieces, the pieces, for once, are all there.

“Wow, Jay,” Dick murmurs. “You’ve really got a way with her, you know.”

Jason waits to answer until he’s sure his voice won’t betray how shaken apart he is. “She just doesn’t know any better yet,” he says. “Probably at this stage, it’s all the same to them.”

“She didn’t eat this well for me,” Dick says, and Jason can’t tear his eyes away from Danielle to look, but he can hear Dick smiling. “Face it, Jaybird, she chose you.”

“Shut up,” Jason replies, but it’s so subdued it’s practically a whisper. He can’t even deny it - she did choose him, and even if he can’t fathom why, even if it terrifies him, he can feel it all the way down to his bones. He’ll do anything for this little girl. Shit, she’s already got him shacking up in the last place he’d ever want to be. She’s got him thinking about sensible family cars, for Christ’s sake. He hasn’t even known her a full day, but she chose him, and he knows he’d die for her as instinctively as breathing.

“This had better not take long,” Damian says, reentering the room with his toolbox in hand. “I have training to finish.”

Dick laughs, but it’s a little off, somehow. Jason still doesn’t look - if he had to guess, he would say that Damian managed to surprise Dick, but that doesn’t seem very likely.

“Sure thing, Dami. The changing table is probably the easiest, if you have things to do.” Whatever Jason thought he heard, it’s not there anymore. Dick’s voice is back to being smooth and casual, pointedly so, which probably means Damian’s about to -

“In other words, you want me to assemble the crib,” Damian says flatly.

“Pretty sure I said changing table,” Dick repeats, exasperated.

“Enough with your mind games Grayson. They aren’t subtle, you’re embarrassing yourself. I’ll assemble the crib, since you seem to think it’s too challenging for you.”

“If that’s what you want,” Dick says evenly. Jason finally catches his eye, and he winks. “I’ll start working on the changing table - the way she’s eating, we’re gonna need it soon.”

Anxiety flits across Damian’s face, and he scowls hard at Jason a split second later. Jason shrugs one shoulder at him peaceably. He’d be lying if he said he had no reservations about changing diapers either, but hell, he signed up for this, didn’t he? People even more dysfunctional than him must have figured it out over the years. And considering his extracurricular activities, he can hardly be getting squeamish over a little baby poop.

Danielle, having paused her eating to look around, makes a short fussing sound and then latches onto the bottle again. Jason adjusts his hold and brings her up a little higher. She curls into him automatically, the fingers of her little hand splaying against his shirt, right over the intersection of scar tissue fanning across his chest. He’s never let anyone touch him there before. It doesn’t feel….bad. At all.

It feels like waking up after a long, disorienting dream. Like climbing down a mountain and taking the first breath of oxygen-rich air.

It feels like being home.

***

(tim)

“Here’s what we know,” Bruce says, pulling up the footage from Oracle. “One month ago, Cy Reynolds and a couple dozen henchmen took over the Eastern port for Intergang. They demo’d the warehouses the Dragons were operating out of, and the old Falcone hotel. They brought in tech, weapons, and what appears to be equipment from Apokolips to construct a boom tube.”

“Just what we need,” Tim mutters.

“Two days ago, Cy Reynolds, his wife, and their adult son all turned up dead. Each was shot twice in the head, execution style. Oracle, any update on ballistics?”

“Negative,” Barbara’s voice comes through the computer speakers. “Forensics are taking their sweet time.”

“We have sixteen other bodies, identified as Reynolds’ second tier of command within Intergang and their respective families.” Bruce pauses. “This includes three children. A fourth was targeted, identified as the child of Mitchell Howard and Linda Torres, but she somehow survived.”

“And made it all the way to St. Aden’s in Coventry,” Tim finishes. “Records say Torres lived on the edge of Little Italy.”

“Has your group seen any signs of new groups operating on the East End?” Bruce asks. “There’s a short list of suspects who could have pulled this off in two days.”

“If there are, they’re way underground,” Barbara says. “You can rule out the Golden Dragons, most of the ones left in that area joined up with Intergang. They’re focused on turf wars in Chinatown, they wouldn’t bother defending the Eastern port.”

“That fits with our intel,” Tim says, trying not to sound annoyed. This started as his op, and he’d ruled out the Dragons from the very beginning. Bruce’d had barely a passing interest until Jason got involved, and now Tim has been demoted to pinch-hitter on his own case. He’ll deal, but after the year he’s had, it’s a little hard not to take it personally.

“The killers’ modus operandi ranges from shooting to stabbing, which suggests human suspects,” Bruce says. “Targeting families suggests the mob.”

“The Falcones used to control the whole east side,” Tim says thoughtfully. He’s surprised it never occurred to him. He’d been so focused on new territory feuds, he hadn’t stopped to think that it might be an old territory feud. Maybe he deserves to be a pinch-hitter. “Any chance they’re making a comeback?”

There’s a flurry of typing on Barbara’s end. “Funny you should mention them. We had five bodies from the Falcone family turn up over the past six months. Some of these could be accidental, but I tagged it as suspicious after the third one.”

“So, a rival family,” Tim says, slowly. He racks his brain for a list of crime families in Gotham’s history. Who’d even bother going after the Falcones these days? They haven’t been truly active in Gotham for over two decades, but, Tim supposes, some rivalries never die. “The Maronis are locked up….maybe the Odessa Mob? Could they be making moves?”

“Nightwing would know if they were expanding past Bludhaven,” Bruce says. Fair enough. Wouldn’t make sense for the Russians to stage a hostile takeover when they’re barely holding ground across the harbor, anyways. “Who are the victims from the Falcones?”

“That’s the weird part. They were all straight, as far as I can tell. One shoe store manager, two housewives, a scuba instructor, a graduate student, and an entrepreneur. Barely a drug charge between them.”

“Could they be unrelated?” Tim asks, glancing through the reports..

“No,” Bruce says decisively. “It’s too much of a coincidence. These murders are all connected.”

“I agree,” Barbara says. “Based on proximity alone, but combined with the destruction of the old hotel, it’s all adding up to something.”

Tim doesn’t argue. They’re right - if there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that coincidences are never just that in Gotham. The connection is there, they just need to find it.

“That hotel was Carmine Falcone’s crown jewel, back when he was in power,” Bruce says. “If the Falcone family is behind this, they could have been retaliating.”

“That’s a hell of a lot of bodies to drop just in retaliation,” Tim says doubtfully. “And to what end? If it is them, it has to be more than that.”

Barbara puts new footage on their screen. “Here’s what I pulled from last night’s traffic cams. Looks like the person who killed the baby’s parents is the same one who dropped her at the orphanage.”

Tim studies the grainy figure on the screen. They’re wearing a hood and limping slightly, but from the approximate size and shape, they appear to be -

“A female assailant,” Bruce says. “Not a pro. This person couldn’t have taken down a man like Reynolds.”

Tim stretches his arms over his head. “So, multiple killers.”

“Fits the mob angle. Give me an hour or two, and I’ll have an ID,” Barbara says. “Oracle out.”

Tim watches Bruce pull stills from the footage and run them against his video backlogs. On a separate screen, he watches Colin draw baby Danielle out of the Safe Surrender box, look around at the camera, and then hurry out of view.

“Red Robin, what exactly is going on over there?” Barbara asks quietly over the comm in his ear. She must have opened a private channel, because Bruce doesn’t show any indication he’s hearing her too.

“I’m gonna hit the training mat,” he says to Bruce. He gets no acknowledgement, which is more or less what he’s learned to expect.

“It’s been kind of a shitshow here,” he replies, once he’s out of earshot of Bruce. “What have you heard?”

“That Robin brought home a baby, and Red Hood adopted it, and now he’s moving back in to take care of it.”

“You’re pretty much caught up, then,” he says, stifling a laugh. “And Nightwing is helping, which is even weirder.”

“No shit,” she muses. “He’s helping Red Hood?”

“I guess? I was just with them, they’re kind of getting along, actually.”

“They had a decent rapport going when Nightwing took over as Big B,” Barbara says. “Robin wasn’t crazy about it. I think he wanted N all to himself.”

Tim considers this. “I always thought Robin didn’t like Hood because of his methods.”

“I’m not about to psychoanalyze Robin on a line I know he could hack if he wanted to,” Barbara says dryly. “But I’m sure that’s part of it. Hang on, B is lighting up the family line.”

Tim switches over. Bruce says, “We’re going to have to make some adjustments to patrols, while Danielle is in our care.”

“Black Bat and Batgirl are still in Florida,” Barbara says. “They should be wrapping up their case in the next day or two. I’ll put them on the South End when they get back.”

“Good,” Bruce says. “Signal should also be back in Gotham by then. Red Robin, you’ll need to put activities with the Titans on hold. I’ll have you covering the Northeast corner, including Crime Alley and the Bowery.”

“That’s my turf,” Jason snarls over the comm. “You can’t just go giving away my patrol. I gave you the East End, and look how that fucking turned out.”

“I wasn’t finished. Red Robin will cover those areas when Red Hood is otherwise occupied.”

Tim closes his eyes for a long second. Great. Now Jason will be gunning for him, again.

“Nightwing, your coverage of Bludhaven is non-negotiable. Robin will join you, temporarily, and fill in for you on the nights you need to be absent.”

“Really?” Dick sounds pleased. “Hey, Robin, did you hear that?”

“Of course I did,” Damian says. “Father, I accept this assignment.”

Unfair, Tim thinks, petulantly. He thinks Barbara’s probably right about Damian wanting Dick all to himself, but they all want Dick all to themselves. It’s complete bullshit that Jason and Damian, by far the least deserving, are the ones getting him.

“Oracle, we’ll need the Birds to fill in the gaps.”

Tim can almost hear Barbara rolling her eyes. “That’s what we’ve been doing, Batman. I’ll ask Huntress to keep her eyes on the Narrows. I’ve already got half my monitors dialed in to the East End. If anything happens there, I’ll be first to know.”

“Good,” Bruce says. “We’ll debrief again after tonight.”

There’s a long pause, and then Jason says, “Replace - Red Robin, we better talk if you’re taking my patrol tonight.”

Tim swallows. “Just so you know, I didn’t ask B to assign me.”

“No shit you didn’t. No one in their right mind would. No idea why he’s gone off the fucking deep end about this, like we haven’t dealt with way worse.” Jason sounds aggrieved. Tim can hear baby squealing noises in the background.

“Twenty bodies in one weekend isn’t nothing,” Barbara says. “This only happened because we were lax on patrol. No one was covering that area while Red Robin was gone.”

“I had informants on the ground,” Tim protests. “We were in touch.”

“It’s not your fault, Red,” Dick says immediately. “Oracle didn’t mean that. We should have been covering. It’s our bad, not yours.”

“I could have been covering,” Jason grumbles.

“Last time there were this many dead gangsters on the docks, you were covering.”

“Oh, fuck you, Boy Wonder.”

“Boys,” Oracle says, none too pleasantly. “I’m muting the family line now, so you’ll have to bicker like schoolgirls in person. Oracle out.”

Well, if he’s on the training mat anyways, he might as well get a workout in. Tim grabs his bo staff and scrolls through the training menus on his phone until he finds one that’ll thoroughly kick his ass. It’s stressful, having this many people in the manor. Tim doesn’t have a single clue how to act around a baby, much less how to act around Jason Todd with a baby.

Conner will find this hilarious, he thinks, whenever he gets back to Earth. Not the murders, obviously, but he’s always taken particular delight in Tim’s family drama. He’ll have to tell him about it next time they see each other - if they ever see each other - if Conner is even talking to him -

Tim shakes his head roughly. He’s been doing so well at not thinking about Conner, and truth be told, a hiatus from the Titans will probably do him a world of good on that front. He can’t take any more of Bart’s overcompensating, or Gar and Cassie’s whispering when they think he isn’t paying attention. At least when Bruce and Damian second-guess him, it’s not because they think he’s heartbroken, or whatever.

Because he’s not.

Probably.

The program starts, and then immediately ends when Tim takes a holographic missile to the chest. Crap. He hits the restart button, pushes everything else out of his mind. Dealing with his encyclopedia of dysfunctional relationships can wait. This, at least, he knows how to do.

***

#jaydick #haven’t posted fic on this website in many years and the text editor has really tanked i gotta say #what do you have against center alignment tumblr #where did the nice word processor go #Ugh #anyways here’s this #fell face first back into bats so i’m finishing this wip from 2013 #my fics #heartlandverse

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bluegarners · 3 years

Note

4. Never Disappointed Me

heyyy aster!! nice to see you!!

4. what would this fic be about, based on the title? (asker provides fake fic title)

i feel like you already knew what i was thinking when you sent this in, but who knows? maybe not? but for me and my lizard brain, of course i thought of a convo between bruce and dick because, let's face it, i am a total sucker for mushy conversations about the past and expectations created because of it

(i got carried away with this a bit so)

so maybe it starts off with a rough night on patrol. dick is in gotham for a change, taking a brief break away from blud, and he's just trying his best to get back into the rhythm of working with people of similar skill-sets and mind-sets as he. after years of first working on a team as a leader, learning to use his teammates very different but still useful skills to the team's advantage, and then leaving teams all together to go solo, has more or less thrown him out of sorts with knowing how to work with people that are thinking the same things he's thinking and gathering/learning the same things when faced with a crime scene/problem.

which leads to problems in and of itself as dick becomes a little over-bearing when working alongside the likes of red robin, robin, and batman. it's not that he under-estimates or under-values any of their work. really, they are all way-too-highly capable individuals and none of them really need his help, but he wants to give it anyway. so him invading on projects, leaning over the others shoulders, giving input that is obvious to them, and in general trying to point out things that they already know leads to someone blowing up at him; yelling and raging a bit at dick and claiming that he think they're incapable/incompetent at their job when, really, dick is just so used to having to take leadership, having to painstakingly point out things that are obvious to him but not others, and explaining concepts that are commonplace to him but unheard of to others that aren't affiliated with batman.

and that progresses into dick doing a complete 180, backing off and away and making himself scarce both in the cave and in the manor as he realizes that no one really needs him anymore and that his role in the family is very easy to replace as he can only contribute so much compared to what everyone else has already gathered. and of course everyone notices, feels a little bad for his recluses, and bruce takes it upon himself to reassure dick that he is still a very much needed part of their family, no matter the fact that the way they operate is just a little different from the way everyone else does and that that doesn't make his thoughts and input any less important.

which then leads to dick confessing something along the lines of this:

"I... I think I'm stuck, Bruce."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like this, right? All my life, I've been surrounded by capable, hard working people. People who have powers, god-like abilities, can talk to animals, turn into them, and produce radiation bursts out of their fingers. And then there's people like us. No powers. No special abilities. No mutations. Nothing. We're just... people."

Bruce says nothing but nods his head in encouragement. Dick wipes at his mouth, a nervous gesture of his.

"We're just people," he repeats, "and so that means that we have to better. We have to- to overcompensate and do all sorts of things that they don't have to think about. You raised me to be better, to overthink, to over-do everything so that we could somehow stand on equal footing with these super-powered people. And that's led to us leading them sometimes, somehow, because even with their powers, they can't do the things we do. Can't think of the things we think about. And that's fine. I'm cool with that. I don't mind being the leader, the planner, the one that gives explanations and back-up plans and assessments. It's great that I can be that person for them."

"But?"

"But it's... different here. With you guys. I... We're all the same here. I have nothing to bring to the table in terms of what makes us so different from all the super-people. Sure, I can be part of the patrol sectors, I can do surveillance, I can read over a plan or a map and go from there, but that's all.. it's all par for the course here. That's normal."

"And that makes you stuck?"

Dick scrubs harder at his mouth. "See, that- that's the thing. I don't mind not being the 'special' one or the 'normal human' aspect of the team. It's actually welcomed now that there are people who know I won't crumble into pieces if I break a bone or something. But the problem- I can't say there's an actual problem, there isn't one, but it's just... it's just..."

"You worry that there's nothing left for you to do."

"Yeah. Yeah, that. I have nothing new to contribute. So, now, I'm just here. I don't have a real purpose, a real ability to bring to the team, I'm just.. stuck. And I just, well, worry sometimes that I'm not enough."

"Not enough?"

"For Tim. Damian. Anyone. You."

"Me? You worry that you're not enough for me?"

Dick jerks his head in what might be the start of a 'yes' but stops half-way, mouth thinning into a red line and stress points.

"Dick," Bruce sighs, carefully raising a hand to place on his son's shoulder. "Will you please look at me?"

He does so, slowly.

"You will always be enough," Bruce says, squeezing his eldest's son. "You have been enough."

"I just don't want to disappoint you," Dick rushes out, surprising himself with the admission. "I want to be the person you think I can be, but sometimes it feels like I fail at that. Constantly."

Bruce inhales and exhales with the weight of years and years of regret and immense patience and love. He's not really one to shove physical affection onto others, it's not his department, but he deliberately wraps both of his arms around his son's shoulders, who readily returns the gesture.

"I know I don't say it enough," Bruce begins, "but you have never disappointed me. Ever. You have become someone far greater than I could have ever hoped for you to be, and I am so, so proud of you. Everyday. All the time."

Dick doesn't say anything, just smashes his forehead into the collar of Bruce's worn sweat-shirt and hugs a little harder.

"Richard Grayson, you have made me nothing but proud and I am so grateful to call you my son."

#cereralwithaster #fanfic writer ask game #so yeah i got carried away with this one #i was in a *mood* tonight so it produced this #so take it as you will #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson

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hoodedwing · 4 years

Text

Loyalty Killed Me

Summary: The Joker could finally do what he wanted to do, traumatize Nightwing

Characters: Nightwing. Harley Quinn. Joker. Mentions of Red Hood

Warnings: Just really sick ways of stitching people up. Blood. Depressive. Major character/s death mentions. Batman. Doctor Leslie Thompkins

Additional Notes: I know Joker cannot traumatize Grayson canon-wise? Please correct me if I’m wrong.

Word Count: 2,242 words

***

Time doesn't stop.

Time knows, in its hands. It plays around with the seconds. These seconds matter, someone dying, someone on the communicator whispering, ____ come get me. come get me, I can't go back.

Time doesn't freeze. Time does not have a cloak drapes around it in a timeless manner. Time does not walk in a regal manner and stroke your gaping wounds to cauterize them. Apply pressure because really, when did Time wait for you to stop the damned arterial spray? Have you seen first hand how much blood can spew, almost like a fountain from that serrated dagger?

Time has caught up with Dick Grayson, the Wonder Boy. The Nightwing Blüdhaven didn't deserve. The loving boyfriend/husband of Barbara Gordon. The first son of Bruce Wayne, Batman.

Batman. He doesn't know who's Batman. Not anymore.

3200..6400..12800..

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Remember, inhale slowly, inflate lungs. Let it circulate through. Let. Let it work.

Richard. That's your name. Your mother was beautiful and your father was handsome. You are a Grayson. You have brothers and sisters.

Pain.

Pain is relative. If you fuck with pain long enough, it won't fuck back with you. Pain spreads through him and he inhales deep, bigger breaths. Trying to drown out the searing ache. He succeeds, deceives his brain.

Dick Grayson is such a liar.

He knows how to lie, how to smile widely at the Blüdhaven precinct when shit goes down or still tell a joke or two when Damian is there.

Dick Grayson is such a liar.

He's a good man. Honest to goodness. He's fooled himself into thinking his left leg didn't feel on fire, he's successfully managed to stop gasping against the rattle of his chest, a rub or two might be the cause. Who knows?

BOY WONDER! SAD YOUR DEAREST BATMAN HASN'T COME TO SAVE YOU YET? WHY LOOK AT THAT.

Mistah J checks his watch and smiles, his crooked smile stares back at Richard.

Dick only looks away as the Joker's cold fingers run his slimy, skinny fingers along his body. He used to shiver under his touch in a bad way, he would gulp and squeeze his eyes shut, hunting for memories to dive into.

When he got Zitka. When his mother named him her Robin. When he went on patrol for the first time with the all mighty Batman. When he first met Jason. Then Tim. Then Damian. Then the nights they spent healing wounds, fighting together or just sleeping or Netflix.

Dick doesn't move, doesn't say a word. He doesn't even let out a humourless laugh or a quip. Dick clings onto a hope.

Batman. Come get me.

BOY WONDER IS STILL LIVING. WHY, THAT'S A JOY. COME OUT THERE LITTLE BLUE BIRD. YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN STAY IN THAT LITTLE BRAIN OF YOURS? WHEN YOU WAKE UP. THAT LEG WILL HURT. YOUR BLOOD WILL SPILL AGAIN ON THAT DARNED LITTLE CREST.

He doesn't care. The glorious speech does not make him flinch. He looks at the window, one thought crosses his cloudy vision.

Bruce (Dad), come get me.

LET'S HAVE SOME MORE FUN, SHALL WE. EVEN JAYBIRD PLAYED THIS GAME TOO. COME ON, HE HAD FUN. LET'S PLAY BLUE BIRD. BLUE JAY. HMM. I LIKE THAT.

Playtime.

Its always target practice. He would lie there and watch Harley swing her mallet here and there, sometimes too close to Dick and she would talk to him, so sweetly.

Aww, you wanna play too? Let's play together, shall we?

His face will clench up, his head will scream and suddenly everything is loud as Harley fires guns at targets and maybe shoot some arrows at Dick.

On lucky days, he's used as her gymnast prop.

I want to fly again. Batman I'm falling, please I'd like to fly again. My wings are clipping and I will rip. -

He falls asleep.

You can't call it sleeping. Dozing in and out of consciousness, he was neither awake or sleeping. A grey haze flittered across his vision. No sign of clarity. He still heard the rattle of his breath, the fire in his leg. The now warm abdomen.

He feels someone at his leg.

Harley Quinn was there, a sly smile as he feels a needle go in and out.

In and out. In and out.

In and out, in and out. You need to breathe Dick. In and out. In and out.

When he hears the door shut and a ricocheting silence, he peeks at his leg.

A sick suturing of his leg stabs with dental floss, a handiwork Harley was sure to boast later on. He doesn't care if it gets infected. What's the big deal? Batman will take care of it.

He turns over on his side to his communicator lay. The Nightwing emblem was shattered beyond measure. No matter, I can get a new one. The communication mattered.

He presses the distress signal again, again. Again. Bruce better get that flashing orange light and he should feel his bipolar touch in no time.

He tries to talk, voice hoarse from decreased usage and a rough sandpaper-like quality stuck to it.

"H..hello? Bruce. Dad. Please get me. I'm.. I'm waiting. Please."

He turns back in his side, curled up like an invited animal.

The rain pours, shadows keep coming in and out but none belong to his dad.

The boy asks the moon if Batman had lost his way. Asked if the moon could shine the light brighter at him so Dad can find him faster. He'll be okay, he'll be okay. Bruce might be lost, after all. There's a lot of streets and time isn't on anyone's side.

Two weeks go by.

Dick still finds himself bound by the ties and definitely no sign of the caped crusader.

Batman is surely coming.

That thought fades slowly, over the weeks. He's gotten more used to the Joker and the crowbar.

Is this how Jason felt, when he was in Hell?

Dick cannot remember. Dick only knows how the sound of metal and bones work, how the bullet will hit skin, pierce it through with frightening velocity and dull ache afterwards. The pool of blood will remind him that yes, I was shot.

A sick game of Russian Roulette. Instead of one bullet, there's multiple. A .44 magnum shouldn't hurt anymore. The revolver keeps spinning in his mind where acrobats should be. Where's Bruce. Where's dad. Am I forgotten?

Dick tried to remember how to breathe. Is it that hard? Just pulling in oxygen and letting the respiration mechanism do its work?

Distract thine self.

He tries to remember. Tries. He's trying. Nightwing has to do this. You need to at least remember your name. Your mother, your father. Dick. Dick.

Richard. That's your name. Your mother was beautiful but I don't know what her hair colour is, sometimes it's blonde or chestnut and your father was handsome. You are a Grayson. You have brothers and sisters. Are they Jason? Tim? Da- I don't remember, I don't remember the tiny one. Is he even real? Your sisters too. Stephanie, Stephanie. I have one more, the sneaky one. She's fast but I don't know her name. I'd like to know her well too. Pity I. I don't know her name. I hope she knows my name. That way I can hear her voice and maybe figure out who is the charming one. I know she does ballet. I know she made brownies once with.. Who? I don't remember his name. The old man with cheery wrinkles and deep eyes. I don't know who he is too. Oh. Oh oh. Dick.

[DANGEROUS TO FALL ASLEEP, RICHARD JOHN 'DICK' GRAYSON. EYES. OPEN. EYES. OPEN. BREATHE. (MY LUNGS DON'T WORK)]

I'm begging someone, please. It doesn't have to be Bruce. Get the ballet girl to help me please, she fast and maybe I can ask her name while she gets me out of here.

Bruce never gives up.

You know that too, do you? He's spent 3 weeks finding his son. His beloved child.

Do you ever think how much Bruce's heart breaks over and over everyday?

"ALFRED?! CAN YOU GET JASON NOW, NOW, NOW?! I FIGURED HIS COORDINATES."

Bruce flips from the Batcomputer and grabs everything. A blind haste, he's never dressed so fast. His son. Oh my god, his son.

Jason is down there getting the Batmobile to rev up and they speed.

They speed.

Are they fast?

I guess. If you call 290 in 85 fast.

They run, Jason dashing first and his breath catches in his throat. A cold draught erupts inside of him. He snarls, Bruce turns as he digs through the alleyways. He finds what he knows lurks.

"The sick fucker is going to end Dick in the same fucking warehouse he ended me in. That big bitch.

Bruce puts one hand on his shoulder and squeezes. No time to panic, Dick is the one. is the unsaid message as Jason crashes through the window.

And even him, Red Hood. The one who sees and commits murder everyday, stops and hot anger sears through him.

Dick lies, barely 15 feet away, bound up and covered in his own blood, the ripped Nightwing suit from his recon mission. Bruce picks him up while Jason gladly punched (and secretly plugged a bullet) the fuck out of Mistah J and Harley.

They lie on unconscious, Jason evaluates the scenes, trying to suppress his screams at what they've done to Grayson.

Bruce picks up Dick like he's glass, he hurries to the Batmobile with Jason telling to prepare the Medbay.

"The Medbay.. I.. I don't think. Leslie. Leslie can."

Is all Bruce says and Jason revs up, driving the Batmobile way beyond the legal limit. Bruce doesn't give a flying banana about it. He'll pay the fine later.

Bruce looks down at his son, hoping he hasn't fallen asleep yet. Finally, finally Dick is in the arms of the crusader. Half his domino mask is ripped and Bruce tries to not break at the baby blues staring without any light-hearted gaze.

His heart still beats (A reminder he's alive and could've been more alive. Bruce failed him)

"LESLIE. DR THOMPKINS!"

Jason screeches across and marching in, earning angry stares from the other patients but it turns into gasps and horror when they see Batman carry a limp Nightwing barely clad in spandex anymore. Everyone bows out, knowing they were priority.

Something inside Dick broke.

He doesn't know what it is.

He'll live with it.

"Bruce, he's fallen into a coma."

Leslie says, solemn. Angry tears form in Jason's eye and he was about to fight Bruce, give him the tirade. Compare him to Nightwing.

The unspoken message rings loudly in Bruce's mind. He doesn't need Jason to say it.

You failed him too.

Jason is seething, anger. Sadness a d everything is violating him from inside.

If you were a minute later, he would've died. We would've been carrying his body to the grave. The Joker would still live. You see the problem? DO YOU NOT SEE THE FUCKING PROBLEM?

Bruce sits beside Dick, his pulse like a fluttering butterfly. He grasps his hand in Duck's fragile one and prays.

Prays that he wakes up.

Dick is on a life support machine now.

I guess the ventilator couldn't keep him up. All good boys do die. If not, maybe a part of them broke.

Dick is no exception.

Alfred squeezes Bruce's hand. Jason sits so quietly beside him alongside the rest of the family.

Its April 27th. Jason was taken this day.

They don't say a word, neither does Red Hood, he just wants the baby blue eyes to open again.

He cries.

Five months have gone by and he stirs slowly.

He's barely moving and Jason shoots up and looks, squeezes Dick's hand again.

Baby blues meet emerald green.

Jason dashes for Leslie. She comes and shoos everyone out.

Jason is fucking glad. Dick is alive.

Bruce is disappointed.

He cannot bring himself to meet Dick who's currently in the ward under observation. He's failed Dick. He knows it.

He enters, heavy hearted. Dick is smiling at everyone but Bruce can see it, the hard lines. The sunshine doesn't reach the baby blues. He thinks they've turned into aquamarine, a shade tad too dark. I guess, that's what trauma does to people.

Dick smiles at Bruce, he feels the tension and Dick pats the chair beside him where Jason was sleeping. Bruce softly sits, he has no heart to wake Jason up.

Dick is alive. Dick is alive.

Bruce places one hand on Grayson's one, it feels much more warmer and his pulse is beating normally.

And he breaks.

He cries, tears steaming down his cheeks. An ugly sound escapes his throat. Bruce gasps in air and exhales shakily. Dick watches, silent.

Is this how you felt when I was in Hell?

Dick doesn't touch Bruce, doesn't say its okay and I'm alive. He stares dead into Bruce.

I cannot forgive.

Dick sits quietly, he doesn't have to say it. Loyalty does kill you in the end if you step on all the wrong pieces of glass.

That's when you find yourself falling from the trapeze line, you find yourself swirling again in the memories you wish you could lock.

Loyalty in the end, is your demise.

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heyitsani · 4 years

Text

We Don’t Share the Same Blood

Batman Bingo 2020: Ice Cream/”You are my dad, right?”

Word Count: 2026

Rating: General

Warnings: Dick’s low self-worth, is that a warning? This is fluff peeps, not much to warn about.

Pairing: None

Summary: When Bruce is unable to attend parent/teacher conferences at Gotham Academy with Damian, Dick steps up and takes his place. The evening ends with ice cream and a revelation that puts to rest a lot of questions Dick has been asking himself.

Notes: Dick get a little stuck in his head here, but it’s mostly fluff. These brothers give me life and this makes me happy after such an awful Damian day yesterday.

I also put it all under the cut because there wasn’t a really good “preview” cut off point. Not because it’s NSFW or anything. Good, clean fun here.

You can also read this on AO3 here

While the idea of having kids and a family one day had always been one that Dick had subscribed to, he had never thought he would take the less traditional path. He always expected to settle down with a partner, maybe marry them, and then have children through conception or surrogacy. Yes, adoption had been an option to consider, but he had always wanted to make sure that his family genes continued through at least one biological child. Not because he wanted his kids to look like him, but because he wanted a piece of his parents to continue on, even when they couldn’t.

He wanted a Grayson to be in the world after he had gone from it. He wanted to be selfish on one thing.

What he hadn’t thought would happen was that at the age of 27, he would be taking custody of the son of the man who had taken him in after his parents had fallen to their deaths. He hadn’t expected to be doing it alone with no one but the man he thought of as a grandfather to guide him. Sure, Bruce hadn’t always been the best father, but Dick had always thought he had done the best he knew how. Mostly. And Dick had always expected to have Bruce to fall back on when he felt like he was drowning in the ocean of parenthood.

But he hadn’t had Bruce.

It had been him and a child who hadn’t wanted Dick. Damian had wanted Bruce, not a poor substitute in the shape of Dick. And the young Wayne had made it clear from the very beginning that Dick was nothing but an inconvenience. That he wasn’t Bruce and he never would be.

Then things had started to change. Jason stopped trying to kill them and Tim was off trying to find the man they all loved like a father. And Damian stopped fighting Dick every step of the way. He still fought, but he slowly started opening up to the older man and things started to fall into place.

They were good. Dick was happy and Damian was flourishing. He watched the kid go from an angry murderous brat to a haughty self-entitled brat. And then, eventually, Dick started seeing an actual child emerge. And he did everything he could to foster that in Damian. He tried to give him back the childhood that had been stolen from him.

And Damian slowly became a son.

And then Bruce came back.

And Dick felt like his entire world was torn away from him and there was nothing he could do about it. It had hurt. It had burned. And he had punished himself instead of taking it out on Bruce. Because it wasn’t his fault. And it certainly wasn’t Damian’s fault.

So, Dick had done the only thing he could do. He went back to his apartment and kept his distance so Bruce had the opportunity to become a real father to Damian.

At least until Gotham Academy was calling him stating Damian needed someone to pick him up because he was ill, and Bruce was not answering his phone. Dick had still been listed as a secondary contact and Damian had asked for him over Alfred. And, of course, Dick had dropped everything and gone straight to the school he had once graduated from to pick his brother up from school.

He hadn’t even considered saying he wasn’t able to. Not for Damian. Never for Damian.

And though the kid looked green around the gills, he looked far too grateful when Dick appeared in the doorway of the nurse’s room.

That day Dick had moved himself back to the primary contact for the school and promised Damian that he would always come when his brother called. Always. It didn’t matter what he was doing, if Damian needed him then he would be there. Like he had always tried to be for all of his siblings since he had failed Jason so spectacularly when he had first come to the family.

Damian was different, though.

Outside of the fact that Dick had blurred the lines of brother and parent in his own heart, sometimes he felt like Damian did the same. Like Dick was something more than just another brother. And a part of Dick hoped that was true. Even if the other part of him felt beyond guilty for taking that from Bruce. It wasn’t like his father figure had meant to be taken away from them for a whole year, forcing Dick to step into far too many roles that he had never wanted. Including, “father” for a kid who would have rather been anywhere else.

“Are you even listening to me, Richard?” Damian’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, reminding him where they were and why.

Right. Parent/teacher conferences that Bruce couldn’t be bothered to attend because the League had called on him.

“Sorry, Dami. Got stuck in my head.”

Dick wasn’t surprised to see the teen heave a heavy sigh. “I was explaining that these meetings are droll and pointless. I am performing excellently in all of my courses and I don’t understand why we have to bother.” Snorting out a laugh, Dick reached out and ruffled Damian’s hair.

“It’s so I can hear teacher’s gush about what an amazing student you are.” His words were met with an eye roll before they continued their path to the first classroom. And though Dick knew the teachers would all tell Dick that Damian was a bright kid and was very diligent, he knew they would also tell him that he was not the average middle schooler.

And Dick was well aware of that.

“Well, if it isn’t Richie Grayson,” a familiar voice called out. Glancing over his shoulder, Dick smiled the familiar face of one of his old school friends.

“Hunter Blake, how are you?” Dick held out his hand to shake the other man’s but was surprised when the other man ignored it and found himself pulled into a hug instead. It was quick, gentle, and over before Dick could really react but it still caught him off guard.

“I’m good! What are you doing gracing the halls of Gotham Academy on PT night?”

Glancing down at Damian, Dick was surprised to find the kid smiling brightly. “Uh, I’m here with Damian. Bruce couldn’t make it, so I’m filling in.” Dick shook off the surprise at Damian’s expression just as he had the hug and looked back to Hunter.

“I don’t know why I never put that together. I’m guessing you two are heading to my classroom now?” Hunter looked down to Damian and Dick saw the teen nodding out of the corner of his eyes. “I’m Damian’s art teacher. Come on, I was just dropping off a forgotten purse in the office so I’m heading back that way too.”

“I didn’t realize you ended up teaching here.”

“Well, they certainly love to hire their graduates when they can,” Hunter laughed, and Dick nodded. The trio walked in silence for a few more feet before Hunter was waving an arm toward a room. “This is us. Why don’t you go get your portfolio, Damian, while I talk to Dick?” The teen wasted no time in hurrying off to grab something.

“So art?”

“I enjoyed it as a kid, turns out I’m pretty good at it but not good enough to make a living.” Dick glanced around the room and took in all the art on display and shrugged.

“You must be good with kids? Damian always talks about his art projects. It’s obviously his favorite class.”

“No one has talent like him. He’s by far my most talented student. Probably the most talented student I’ll ever have.” Dick followed Hunter to a wall of landscapes and immediately he could point out which one was his brothers. The forest behind Wayne Manor was unmistakable but the style was one Dick had framed around his own apartment. “He’s quiet and he’s reserved, but he is an artistic genius. I hope he is encouraged at home to cultivate it?”

“I have numerous pieces framed around my own apartment. I know Bruce has a few in his various offices as well.” If anything, Dick had always worried that they had pushed it too much. But Damian was stubborn and if he didn’t want to do something then he didn’t do it. So if he hadn’t wanted to draw, then he wouldn’t.

Hunter smiled brightly and clapped a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “I’m glad to hear it. I would love to be able to say I have a Damian Wayne original hanging in my classroom one day. I’ll let him show you his portfolio. I’ve got other parents to mingle with.”

“Thanks, Hunter. Good to see you.” Hunter said a you too before turning to approach a mother cooing over her daughter’s work. Looking down to see Damian holding a book in his hands, Dick smiled and moved to sit at one of the desks so his brother could show off. And Dick couldn’t stop the swell of pride in his chest as his brother showed him piece after beautiful piece.

When they had gone through the entire book, Dick smiled at Damian and told him just how amazing everything was and he watched the teen glow under the compliment. As if it meant something coming from Dick. Something more than it would had it come from someone else.

“What do you say to some ice cream?”

“That would be an acceptable end to this evening,” Damian agreed after he had returned from putting his portfolio back in it’s place. And Dick couldn’t agree more because ice cream was an acceptable end to just about any evening.

“Richard,” Damian called softly as they walked the street with their individual cones. Dick hummed in response as he watched the other people on the street, enjoying the cool but not cold night air. “Thank you for attending tonight.”

Looking down, Dick smiled. “Of course, Little D. I know I’m not Bruce, but I’ll always be where you need me to be.”

“Yes, you are not Father,” Damian agreed. And though Dick knew that, the words did sting a little. “But in full disclosure, you may not be Father, but you know you are my dad, right?” Freezing in place, Dick stared at Damian as he processed his words. He wasn’t Damian’s father but he was his dad. That is what the teen had said.

“Dames…” Dick wasn’t sure what to say. Did he tell him that he couldn’t do that to Bruce? Did he thank him? Did he hug him?

“I apologize if I have overstepped, but I thought you should know.” There was an awkwardness to Damian and a slight blush on his cheeks, like he was embarrassed to admit such emotion. It made Dick melt. “I have spoke with Father about this regard and he told me that it was completely understandable, given the time you and I have spent together.” Bruce knew? And he apparently didn’t care. “But I just wanted you to know that you may be my brother on paper, but to me you are more.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Dick finally responded, voice thick with emotion. He wanted to say more, he wanted to gush all of his emotions onto Damian and make sure he knew that Dick felt the same. That no matter what happened, Damian would always be his son. “It means more than you know.”

Nodding his head, Damian looked from Dick to his ice cream cone and then started walking again. “Come, Baba. Jon’s birthday is approaching, and I must find a gift to give him or I will never hear the end of it. You shall aide me on this mission.”

Baba. Dad.

“Of course, Dames. We wouldn’t want to disappoint a Kent. You’d never survive the puppy dog eyes.” Dick spoke through the happy tears that built in his eyes at the name, following his son down the street to see what the shops could offer.

#Batmanbingo2020 #batman bingo 2020 #batman #dick grayson #damian wayne #nightwing #Robin #dick is damian's real dad #fight me #fiction #anikah writes

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watchtower-feed · 4 years

Text

Waynesitter and Favorites

Notes: Oh hey an actual fic this time. I’ve been feeling under the weather for the past few days and DDWP part 11 is heavy on the heart so I can’t do it in one sitting. Is that a spoiler or a teaser? Anyway, here’s something light for now. Words: 2,085

“Okay, but who’s your favorite?”

They've been asking you this for a long time now. You’ve been expertly dodging their questions but even Damian has started to be persistent that you’re finding it harder and harder to just say, “I hate all of you, let’s start there.”

“Jason.”

Cass answers suddenly which catches the attention of the whole room. Jason stares at her as a growing blush slowly covers his whole face.

“Wait.” Dick is visibly flabbergasted but more upset. He points a finger at Cass, “Is that Y/N’s answer or-“

“Mine,” she answers with a smile.

“Why?” Tim asks, sounding skeptical and a little outraged.

Cass places a finger below her lips and looks up, listing things in her head for a moment. Jason is the easy choice for her. She knows that when death comes knocking for one of them, he won’t bat an eyelid to kill the harbinger. Cass needs that. She needs someone to do what she can’t do.

There are other reasons, too, smaller ones. Like how Jason is a brute but he’s tender when he’s applying first aid on her wounds. How he quotes books she’s never read. How he sings while he cooks.

“Because he’s the most handsome,” she teases and you’re already hating her for the chaos that ensues.

If you think Dick was offended before, now he looks like Cass just stepped on his grave. “Lies,” he hisses.

Cass snickers which eggs him even more. Tim’s frowning when looks to you, “I always thought I was her favorite…” he says trying to sound nonchalant but failing.

“Tim,” you look at him with a straight gaze, “If I had a daughter, you’re the only one I would introduce her to.” Tim practically straightens his body in joy. You point your finger at him and wink, “So you better make sure you get her into an Ivy League.”

Tim rolls his eyes and groans.

You chuckle. You weren’t lying though. Tim is the most dependable and responsible out of everyone in the manor. He’s not great at taking care of himself, God knows he goes days without sleeping and won’t notice until he passes out, but whenever he sees someone injured or just plain exhausted, he goes into full big brother mode.

“I knew it! You just want me for my brains.”

“At least you get Y/N’s daughter! Cass won’t even acknowledge that I’m the most fun and loving brother!” Dick quickly turns to Jason with the distaste of a childhood rival, “You’ve been quiet. You must feel so smug right now.”

Jason pretends to inspect his cuticles, “What was that? I can’t hear you over all the handsomeness I’m emitting.”

Someone tugs on your sleeve and you see Damian sitting next to you now. He half covers his mouth to whisper something to you, “I know I’m your favorite.”

You twitch a little, “Really? How so?”

“You always see me last before you leave.”

Half true. Damian is the only one living at the manor full time so you always see him. He’s also still a child so you always have to check on him before you leave, making sure he’s still on the property and not out of the country without Bruce’s knowledge like that one time—

“I also overheard you talking to Alfred.”

Okay. Guilty. Whenever Alfred comes back early, he asks you how you are and you would always go into these rants about everything they did. You love them as much as you hate them but ever since you first met Damian, you’ve always had a soft spot for him, so everything he does is almost endearing to you.

He was in the garden with the dog when Lucius first dropped you off at the manor. You watched this stern little kid try to talk the dog into sitting down, gesturing the proper movement for the action, and staring Titus down like a boarding school principal.

But Titus did sit down and the wide and bright smile on Damian was too precious. He was beaming so hard that for a second there he lost his composure. You knew right then and there that this kid deserves more love than he can handle.

You place your finger on your lips and whisper, “Don’t tell them.”

“What’s this?” Jason calls out loudly, “Damian and Y/N are conspiring with each other.”

“It’s none of your business, Todd.”

“You’re bribing her, aren’t you?”

“Jason, you already have Cass. Stop being so greedy,” Dick replies, obviously still wounded.

“Who’s your favorite?” Cass suddenly asks him. You almost want to hug her. Of course, the best way to nurse an emotionally hurting Dick Grayson is by giving him the upperhand.

Dick is already grinning as his eyes sweep around the room. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“That’s why she asked, Dick,” Tim answers, almost bored of this topic.

“We don’t wanna know,” Jason adds.

“No. No. I’ll tell you.” He looks around, taking in the suspense that was slowly building. “It’s…” Dick takes his time looking at all of you.

“Any day, Richard,” you mock.

“You know what?” Dick crosses his arms and pretends to be hurt but the grin on his face is giving him away. “I don’t want to tell you.”

Jason groans and Tim just rests his head on the back of the sofa. You and Cass smile because it’s such a typical Dick thing to do, and it finally got everyone off your back.

“Have you all gone deaf?” Alfred pokes his head under the living room doorway. “I’ve been calling the lot of you for dinner for 5 minutes. Even master Bruce is already at the table.”

“Bruce!” everyone simultaneously yells out. Cass and the boys leap over the couch to get to the dining room, surprising and angering Alfred as they pass him.

“Goodness-- It’s like living with wild animals.”

“I’ve been telling you that since my first day!” you whine as you walk to the dining room.

Alfred grins at you, “We both know you’ve grown fond of them.”

As you get closer, their riotous goating of Bruce got louder.

“Come on, Bruce! You can’t not have a favorite!”

“The moment you tell us it’s not Dick, then we’ll be happy.”

“Stuff you, Jason. Just because you’re definitely not in the running doesn’t mean you can drag me down.”

“You’re all wasting your breath. Of course, I’m his favorite. I’m his real son.”

The room suddenly goes quiet. This was the worst time to enter. Cass, Tim, Jason, and Dick are staring at Damian, and then they roll their eyes and fill the room with a collective ‘oooh’.

“Look at me! I’m Damian! I’m his son!” Jason sways his hips as he mocks.

“Look, I have my father’s eyebrows,” teases Dick.

“Being his son means he’s obligated to love you, you know.”

“Shut up, Drake!”

Bruce turns to you and you’ve never seen so many worry lines on the cool and collected millionaire until this moment. He’s practically begging you to help him. “Um,” you say out loud, trying to drown their voices, “Cass is definitely the best girl here!”

They all turn to you. Alfred leaves you to sit at the table with the rest of them. Traitor you almost want to mutter. He gives you a look saying good luck because you’re digging your own grave.

“I mean, isn’t she though?” You walk over to Cass and hug her from behind. “If you guys ever got caught, like really caught, and I mean like you can’t fight your way out, or your talk your way out, who would you call first?”

The boys look at each other and think for a moment. Some of them nod and purse their lips. Cass holds onto your arms and turns to her side to kiss you on the cheek. You immediately smile and feel giddy that you lean your cheeks against each other. That was enough to calm everyone down because if anyone would dare ruin the moment none of them would be leaving the table alive.

Dinner lasted longer than usual. You yawn as you walk to the door with Dick.

“Want me to drop you off on my way to Bludhaven?”

You nod quickly, “You’re an angel.” He chuckles but you quickly remember something. “One sec.”

As soon as you go back into the house, Damian’s standing there. “You almost forgot me.”

“I could never.” You lift Damian in your arms and carry him off to his room, an extraordinary milestone that took you a month to reach.

“You tired, Dami?” He’s nodding off against your shoulders but still manages to suppress a yawn. You enter his room and lay him down on his bed. “What are you doing tomorrow?” You always ask him. When Damian thinks about his plans for the next day, it seems to put him to sleep faster.

He finally yawns, “I’m patrolling with father.”

“And during the day?”

“Training Goliath.”

You flinch. You’ve seen Goliath and you vow to yourself to never go exploring in the caves again. “H-how fun…” you mutter. You brush his hair until he closes his eyes. “I’ll be back in two days, okay? Tell me about it then?”

Damian lazily nods with his brows and turns to his side. You tuck in his blanket before you leave and head home.

Eerily, the drive back to your apartment is quiet. You sneak a look at Dick and see a more serious expression on his face. You nudge him.

“Hey! Driving here--”

“Wanna know who Bruce’s favorite is?” you tease with half-lidded eyes.

“Who is it?” you don’t answer so he takes a quick look at you and finds you raising your brows and smiling. He laughs, “No way!” then he stops, “Yes way? Are you serious?” You just smile at him and nod once. “I don’t believe you. How could you obtain such valuable information?”

“When you take your suits off, you guys are a lot easier to read than you think.”

“Gosh, Y/N. If you ever become a villain, you might just take over this town.”

You shake your head at such a ridiculous notion. You hate crime-fighting and you hate crime even more. You suddenly punch Dick in the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“You better not tell your brothers!”

He rubs his shoulders and looks at you, “Why would I? Is it true? Am I really Bruce’s favorite?” His grip on the wheels suddenly tightens and he looks like he’s ready to speed into the distance, “Jason is going to be so mad!” You shake your head and wonder how many hours you have to wait before you’re bombarded with group messages about this.

“Oh hey, Y/N,” Dick pulls over outside your apartment building. “Guess who’s Alfred’s favorite?”

Your attention is definitely piqued, “Who?”

“I said guess.”

“It’s not you, is it?” you narrow your eyes, suddenly feeling like this is just a narcissistic trap Dick has set up.

He chuckles, “It used to be. But have you noticed how you get called to the manor even when he’s there?”

You roll your eyes, “Have you met you? You guys are a serious handful!”

Dick shakes his head, “No no. Listen. Alfred can handle us. He can handle us better than Bruce, let me tell you--” Dick pauses a little, “Alfred actually saw you at the office. You were scolding Lucius and when Bruce came to check on him as a backup, you scolded him, too.” Dick laughs.

“Wait. What? What’s this? I don’t remember that. Come on, Dick. Stop laughing and tell the story properly!”

“I don’t know,” he’s still laughing, “I forgot what it was about but Alfred was just impressed by how immune you were to their charms and how scared you made Bruce in a matter of seconds. Not an easy feat and you know that.”

You narrow your eyes at Dick, “You’re the worst storyteller.” You unclasp your seatbelt and step out of the car. After walking around, you knock on the driver’s window and wait until he rolls down the window. “Thanks for the ride by the way.”

He salutes you. “Want me to pick you up in two days?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Okay. I’ll pick you up.”

Dick drives off before you can add another word. You glare at his sports car before you walk up to your building door. Before you even get the chance to slip your keys in, your phone vibrates in your pocket. “That little-”

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#waynesitter #DC imagines #DC fanfiction #DC reader insert #batfamily fanfiction #batfamily imagine #batfamily x reader #batfam imagine #batfam fanfiction #watchtower-feed #acropen #lexyartem

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sweet-sammy-kisses · 3 years

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Fallen Bird

Make the World Bleed Chapter 1: Fallen Bird Fandom: DC Comics/Red Robin/Batman/Young Justice Pairings/Characters: Conner/Tim/Jason, Bruce/Clark/Diana, Core Four, Cassandra & Tim, Dick & Tim, Dick & Damian, Bruce & Tim, Tim & his Assassin Trio Summary: The Core Four have a bond that will never break, will never fade. When one of their own is hurt by someone who should be family to them the other three respond in force. When Tim's line is cut and he is seriously injured Conner, Bart and Cassie are ready to declare war against anyone who stands in their way of helping Tim, even if that means making a devil with the Devil himself, Ra's Al Ghul. Author Notes: Written for the @badthingshappenbingo my prompt: falling from great heights. I love stories that deal with Damian cutting Tim’s grappling line and the fallout and aftermath that and my love of the Core Four turning into their dark selves this because one of their own is injured by someone is supposed to be family. You can also read it on AO3

There were few things Tim Drake loved more than flying through the Gotham night sky as Robin and even though he was no longer Robin, something that still left a deep ache he refused to let the loss of Robin take away his wings and he was finally finding his place soaring as Red Robin.

Gotham was once a place that Tim called home. Once he thought he had found a family but the feeling of home and family were nothing but seemed in the distant past.

No longer could he call Wayne Manor or the Penthouse home. Nor could he call the other Bat's family.

He had realized that the hard way that he no longer belonged or he had never really been a part of the Wayne family.

Tim could feel himself on the edge there was only so much more he could take from Damian, only his team, Cassandra and surprisingly Helena saw how much the abuse was getting to him and the fact that he was just to turn the other cheek was slowly breaking him.

None of them could understand why the adults in Damian's life never once thought to take him aside and explain why he can't treat Tim the way he does. Not one of them set bounders for him. They reprimanded Tim because as the older of the two he should know better. And it was getting to the point that even Raven and Gar, who Tim didn't want them to get involved due to their strong bond with Dick, were reaching their breaking point. Several times they had to stop Raven from tossing the Bat-family into a hell dimension in their underwear.

Helena, Conner and Bart had been all for that idea and it was only because Tim begged her not to did Raven back down.

"If they keep placing the blame on you for Damian's actions I will do it," Raven warned, her normally warm eyes blazing with rage. Raven's vow whispered through Tim's mind.

No, shoving those thoughts to the back of his head Tim lost himself in something he loved.

Tim loved flying between the buildings it was one of his favourite things as a hero. His grapple line gave him a sense of freedom.

Freedom from the tension in the cave.

Freedom from the feeling that he didn't belong in the cave.

Freedom that he had lost a second family.

Then he heard it, something that shouldn't be happening not with a Bat-approved grapple the snapping of his line.

Tim only had seconds to hear the snap before he was falling. "Conner!" He knew that he could count on him, his best friend who kept his promise that he would always be listening to his heartbeat.

But deep in his heart, he knew that it was going to be too late. 'Please Conner don't blame yourself.' Tim pleaded before darkness claimed him.

The pure terror in Tim's voice will haunt Conner 'Kon' Kent for the rest of his days as will his guilt for being a second too late in catching Tim. Looking at the broken boy of his best friend Conner felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

Pressing his comm to the rest of the Titans, "Guys you need to get to Gotham." Conner didn't care that his voice wobbled there was no way that he could stay strong or even pretend that everything was alright, nothing would be alright after this.

"Dude, what is wrong Conner? You are scaring me here." Bart's worried voice came over the line. It wasn't often that Conner would suggest that they break Batman's no meta in Gotham's rule. There was only one reason he would do so.

Bart's worse fears were confirmed when Conner whispered, "It's Tim, he's hurt badly."

Only the movement of his hair alerted Conner to Bart's arrival.

"Oh god." Bart felt like he was going to be sick at the sight he arrived at, he and the others had always been protective over Tim as he was the only human on their team but the one time he truly needed them and they failed him.

"I'm going to kill whoever did this." Bart snarled out, Tim was family and he would do everything in his power to keep those he loves safe.

"First we need to get Tim's help." Whoever did this will pay but getting Tim's aid comes first.

+******+

It was no secret among the Bat-family that there was a rivalry between the two youngest sons Timothy Drake-Wayne and Damian Wayne.

Richard "Dick" Grayson had hoped that they would grow out of it, he couldn't understand why Tim couldn't see that as being Damian's older brother he was to not let Damian's words get to him. Damian had come from the League of Assassins and his abusive upbringing was all he knew. Of course, he was going to lash out and Tim to Damian was an easy target.

Tonight Tim had let Damian get to him once again and stormed out of the cave, Dick only hoped that when he returned he was willing to apologize to Damian.

Jason Todd was fighting the urge to slam some heads together and at the top of his list is Dickie and the smug brat Damian. He had heard from Cass and Helena that things were pretty bad when it came to Tim and Damian and how Damian was allowed to get away with everything while Tim took the blame.

Yeah, he had tried to kill the kid, something that Jason hasn't forgiven himself for. He had allowed Talia to twist him up and he took it out on the one person who didn't deserve his rage. Tim might have forgiven him but he did and Dick sure as hell didn't. So he couldn't understand why Dick was allowing the demon brat to emotionally, verbally and physically abuse Tim and stay silent when he saw it first hand or got angry when Tim defended himself.

'For someone who claims to love family, he sure has proven that he can only love one brother at a time.' Jason felt for Tim. He was trying to be there for Tim but it was a work in progress.

It just baffled him and pissed him off that Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Stephanie and Barbara never once questioned why they allowed Damian to get away with treating Tim like he was trash. Why they never spoke up when Damian time after time told Tim that he wasn't wanted, that he wasn't part of the family. Why Damian sought to kill Tim and only Tim. Jason just hoped that they would wake up before it was too late.

It turned out it was too late.

For all of his skills, Damian found he couldn't move as the speedster kept him pinned to the wall, one hand wrapped around his throat the other vibrating right above his heart, "One wrong move and I vibrate my hand through your chest and into your heart." Bart Allen hissed, his happy-go-lucky personality replaced by a hardened man with no mercy left.

Damian refused to show any fear for that was a sign of weakness and he was anything but weak.

No help was coming as Cassie Sandsmark had Stephanie wrapped up in her lasso, she looked every inch of the Amazonian warrior she is.

Richard had his hands full with an enraged Superboy who was out for pure blood and Raven along with Huntress were keeping his father and Todd busy.

'I always knew that she was not to be trusted.' Damian thought bitterly at the betrayal from someone that was supposed to be one of their own. "I have no idea what you want but I suggest that you let me go and vacate the cave as well as Gotham and I might not seek revenge."

Bart's eyes burned with untamed rage, "Of course you would threaten violence for all the claims that you have changed you still fall back on old habits and isn't hurting Tim tonight enough for you? Or do you wish to stain your hands with blood some more?" Bart hissed at him.

Dick who was close enough to hear was confused, "What happened to Timmy?"

"Don't act like you don't know! You let this happen!" Conner snarled as he felt his eyes heating up and oh how he wanted nothing more than to unleash his heat beam on those who had harmed his Tim.

"Conner, I need you to calm down. I'm sure that Damian didn't mean for this to happen." Dick pleaded he needed to make Conner as well as himself believe that was true that Damian hadn't meant to hurt Tim. "I'm sure if we could talk to Tim we can clear this all up."

"Lies!" Conner hissed out, "This isn't the first time that little demon has tried to kill Tim and because he was never told by you Bruce or Alfred that killing Tim was wrong he found it acceptable and kept trying and now he has succeeded in seriously harming Tim. You are to blame as much as he is because you never took the time to explain that Tim is very much as a family as he is and Tim has the right to feel safe in his own home! Tim is fighting for his life right now because none of you had the balls to tell that demon spawn that killing is wrong!"

Damian froze a flicker of fear as Conner's words vibrated around the cave and all moment stopped.

Dick was sure that for a second his heart had stopped beating, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Tim screamed my name as he fell knowing that I would always be listening for him if he needed me. I found my best friend's broken body laying on the ground. Bart found the cut zip line and Helena got Vic to look at the footage and what he found proved all of our fears Damian cut Tim's line, he fell because of him!"

Cassandra Cain was torn, she loved her family but Tim, Tim was special he was her little brother, her little bird, the one who never gave up on her and the first one to trust her.

"Hurt brother. Cannot forgive. Cannot trust. " It hurt Cass to say those words but she knew deep in her heart it was true.

Nodding his head Jason crossed his arms over his chest, "I agree with princess here. I knew this family was messed up but hell letting me then the demon spawn tries and kill replacement without consciences is a new low. At least I did my best to make amends with Timmy, and for some reason, he found it in his heart to forgive me."

"You were his big brother, the first one to believe in him and you turned your back on him." It was Helena's words that cut Dick to the core.

"Don't bother looking for Tim, he is somewhere safe and you will never see him again," Conner growled. Bart and Cassie stood united with him. They had once seen a future where they turned dark, where they crossed lines and for Tim, they were willing to do that now.

If it meant taking on Batman, his family and the whole Justice League they would do so in a heartbeat to keep Tim safe.

#badthingshappenbingo #sherri writes #my fics #conner/tim/jason #hurt tim #tim centered

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