#i think that if anyone calls me Damian instead of Zero i will switch to full paranoia mode | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fightabear · 3 years

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so some time ago, someone asked me to do meta about a scene in Injustice and i wanted to revisit that scene with the scene from Year Zero in mind. and then i ended up getting deeply into injustice damian, his relationship with his two awful dads, and it’s kind of a mini character essay?

so! here’s a warning for: tyrannical totalitariam regimes, child abuse, abusive fathers, emotional manipulation, evil superman, character death & also random he-man. please note that this is entirely about injustice and its characters, which are not a reflection on their mainstream counterparts.

there’s tension between damian and bruce from the get-go in injustice, and we’re never really told why. if we take cues from the game (though that entire scene doesn’t make sense) then it’s because bruce didn’t save jason, which fits in with my reordered robin theory in which tim and jason were switched, and jason has only recently died.

now, we don’t know whether jason is running around as red hood right now or not. but i’m inclined to say he isn’t, as his injustice 2 ending makes a big deal of him becoming red hood. and damian is close with jason in injustice 2, close enough that jason listens when damian tells him that he’s a lot more than bruce thinks he is and drops the shitty batman costume. close enough that during the (extremely weird, extremely out of alignment with the comic) scene in injustice 2 where damian betrays bruce for clark, jason is the name damian throws at him with the most vehemence. regardless of the robin ordeer, bruce’s failure to save jason is seems to be an incredibly sore point between them.

so it’s interesting that bruce is already counting damian out before injustice even starts. he’s comparing damian to jason - someone who he apparently no longer considers part of his legacy.

the kicker is: damian in injustice is actually probably the most morally centered version of himself. he shows open compassion and care for other people more often than he does in most of the mainstream runs. damian’s sense of right and wrong is solid, but what he wants is to break the cycle that gotham is trapped in. which from his perspective, is something bruce doesn’t seem to want to do.

injustice’s version of bruce is someone who truly believes that the ends justify the means - which means he’s apt to do some heinous things to people until they see his side of things. he seems to view people questioning as an act of betrayal, so instead of ever explaining himself he resorts to things like installing viruses in cyborg, kidnapping hawkgirl and replacing her, beating allies within an inch of their life - all of it is fine to him so long as they’re not dead.

but it’s not fine to damian. damian is constantly horrified at the lengths bruce will go to.

damian is afraid of his father.

so, this is about a specific scene. let’s get to that scene. its just important to note the difference between them, and emphasize that he’s not going with any intent to fight. if he was going to do that, he wouldn’t be doing this:

or respond like this:

or this:

he’s there to make amends, or at least try to. he still loves his father and he wants to be forgiven, and this is something that will carry on ten years later in injustice 2. damian made the choice to oppose bruce’s controlling nature but damian didn’t choose to abandon him and the bat family permanently. that choice was made for him. damian wants to come home.

and he’s terrified of his father. i cannot stress that enough. bruce at this point has already shown that he knows how to hurt his closest friends if they oppose him.

damian is a highly trained fighter, but he’s also a thirteen year old boy who knows he can’t overpower a man twice his size and weight.

and bruce?

bruce’s entire argument really hinges on ‘you, my thirteen year old son, didn’t take my side in this argument’. because, i have to put this in bold, the league was not executing the criminals they were removing from arkham. they were just transferring them to a more secure facility. something which is actually sorely needed, especially given what has just happened to metropolis. arkham isn’t fit to house them. and as far as damian sees it, bruce doesn’t like it because it’s removing an element of his control.

now, bruce isn’t wrong about how things will escalate.

but damian’s not wrong about his motivation here. i think there’s a conversation to be had about how bruce’s methods in trying to stop the regime actually drove it to further and further extremes. bruce never tries to talk to clark - or anyone, really. he just starts playing mind games to make them do what he wants.

it harkens back to the conversation bruce and dick have in the batplane. that bruce doesn’t talk to people, he doesn’t explain himself. he’s either right or you’re wrong and he won’t explain his stance. there is never room for debate. he’ll just stop talking and leave until you agree. there is no option where he sits and listens to an open and honest dialogue, no scenario where he entertains that he might be in the wrong or maybe things aren’t black and white.

and that’s why injustice bruce is not a good guy.

even on prime earth, damian had to bend over backwards to prove to bruce that he wasn’t a monster. it was damian who spent months digging through the sewers for martha’s pearls. damian who had to prove he was capable of loving titus. damian who constantly had to show that he was capable of empathy and thinking of others - bruce did none of the heavy lifting in that father-son relationship, he made damian climb the entire hill and still continues to put little effort into it.

and injustice bruce is even less empathetic and expressive than prime bruce.

which is why you get a confrontation like this:

this goes beyond dick’s accident and ties back into what clark said about bruce not tending to his son’s who are grieving because they lost friends in metropolis. damian’s fed up with never meeting bruce’s expectations. but more than that, he’s fed up with his feelings coming second to bruce’s.

bruce has already made a judgement on who and what damian is. damian has the potential to be dangerous and requires work to fix, and so he’s not interested in getting to know him beyond that. he tells dick that he’s “worried about damian being seduced by darkness” but never talks to damian himself with him about it.

but clark has looked at damian and and decided that damian is good. damian has problems, clark can admit that and does, but damian is good. like bruce himself.

and ultimately why when dick dies, clark is the one that reaches out to him because he sees damian for what he is: grieving child who just made a terrible mistake. it was an accident. damian didn’t mean for this to happen. meanwhile, bruce feels as though he was proven right. damian was dangerous and now his real son is dead. bruce will later admit, once he stops trying to manipulate damian, that damian was dead to him the moment dick died.

going back to year zero for a minute, they subtly show that damian is doing his best to be like bruce. baby damian idolizes his father. so i imagine a lot of bruce’s own feelings towards damian stem from self-hatred. from bruce seeing himself in his son and not liking the reflection it forces him to confront. injustice bruce projects a great deal of his own insecurities and shortcomings onto his youngest. damian is his worst what-if.

even though damian doesn’t deal with his grief the way bruce does. there are similarities, he puts his feelings into his fists and hits. just like bruce. but unlike bruce, and most likely because of dick, he does try to communicate. come injustice 2 he even talks about his feelings.

that doesn’t justify any of the violent outbursts. and he has a lot of them. he has significant issues with controlling his anger and struggles with lashing out, verbally and physically. it both worsens and improves as he gets older.

damian knows that he’s more than his grief, his loss, his anger. he’s also compassionate and capable of incredible feats of kindness. we see that in the flashback chapter in injustice 2. people aren’t pawns for damian, they aren’t a means to assuage his own guilt and validate himself as a good person. he wants to be good for those people.

damian’s relationship with heroism isn’t built on an intrinsic need for control or power, nor is it a means of validating his self worth.

people just need him. they’re suffering. and he wants to be there for them.

but again, we’re not there yet.

so, alfred reaches out to touch damian. damian asks him repeatedly to let go. when alfred doesn’t, damian tries throwing him off, not realizing how much strength he now possesses.

damian has a thing about being touched when he’s wound up tightly. it almost always ends with him lashing out at someone. which, tying back into why he felt comfortable coming back here, probably goes into his expectation that he’s going to get the lights knocked out of him. because again, damian did not go to the cave to fight or hurt anyone. the pill is entirely for his own defense.

from what we know of damian’s childhood in both prime and injustice, violence is the expected retaliation for misbehavior. toeing out of line is grounds for getting the shit beaten out of you, and while things should be different here....

from how bruce reacts he’s not wrong to expect it. note that bruce dodesn’t run to alfred to see if he’s okay, he goes after damian for hurting him. it’s damian who runs to alfred after he’s thrown bruce away from him.

( granted, yes, he threw bruce into the penny and it almost crushes alfred )

damian apologizes and he means it. alfred’s first question is to ask for bruce.

“”hawkgirl”” intervenes to try to end this fight before it can escalate further.

damian deduces that this isn’t hawkgirl and blows some stuff up. bruce calls after him probably - not to have a serious heart to heart with him about what just happened, or what happened in arkham, but to try to manipulate him into taking bruce’s side or in the very least stop his ruse from being uncovered.

this is a theme moving forward. bruce will dangle forgiveness in front of damian, but only when it benefits him and can be used to control him. eventually he’ll stop and will use the guilt he knows damian feels to wound him.

and here’s the second theme it introduces: damian is scared shitless of his father. he’s not afraid of bruce’s violence, as after this he charges straight for him time and time again, but he is utterly terrified of the lengths bruce will go to get his way.

this is also where he takes dick’s suit. i think this was his way of telling bruce that he didn’t deserve to use dick’s memory the way he uses his parent’s death - as justification for what he does. this comes up in injustice 2 later down the road, damian will bring up that bruce uses his pain to justify how he brutalizes the people around him. damian does the same thing -- but we also see damian grappling with his conscience about it. he wants to be better. he doesn’t want to be all his violence and loss.

back to the topic at hand, damian doesn’t do anything with dick’s suit. unlike bruce, damian doesn’t wear his grief and guilt in plain sight. he puts it in a box and doesn’t look at it, he covers the wounds with anger and as he gets older, develops a death wish and basically begins seeking a noble death in order to make up for what he’s done. it isn’t until dick passes the mantle to him in an attempt to steer him back on the right path that he even looks at it again.

damian isn’t the one that ended his relationship with bruce. bruce did. damian is very willing to reconcile if bruce genuinely wants it, but bruce doesn’t bother with damian outside of combat or when he needs something. damian actually keeps up visits with alfred, he gets him birthday presents, they meet up often and despite their opposing viewpoints, they get along just fine. damian even listens to what alfred says. he still loves his family.

damian himself is a mess. this line resonates because damian, too, is afraid. afraid of bruce, afraid of being what bruce thinks he is. there’s only so far he can bury it under the anger.

by the next issue of year one, after the confrontation at the manor, damian’s discarded any notion that bruce is a good person or justified in anything he does. everything he says on this page is true.

he’s not wrong. he’s more than bruce has even given him credit for being. injustice bruce sorts people into boxes impossible to climb out. damian made his attempt at reconciliation and instead, found out that bruce has kidnapped and replaced one of his friends to spy on all the rest. in that split second when bruce came at at him, he saw the disgust and anger in his eyes. he’s seen how bruce sees him and wholeheartedly rejects it.

he doesn’t want to be bruce. he will not be bruce.

batman was supposed to be better than the league. it was supposed to be a new way. instead he just found a new, different means to brutalize and control, and a new way someone justifies causing harm. and he doesn’t want it.

this isn’t to say that damian is a saint. he’s a very flawed, very broken person. he went from one abusive parental situation, to another, to another, and has the damage to show for it. he’s got bad habits from all of them, many of which he isn’t aware of or doesn’t think are a problem.

but unlike his two dads, damian doesn’t close himself off to what he’s feeling completely, nor does he decide to rush towards external solutions for his pain. he’s, again, very aware��that something is wrong. he doesn’t hold to his convictions the same way bruce or clark do, he questions. he’s deeply unhappy with who he is and what he’s doing.

but damian is seeking answers using a very limited toolset, and there’s a very limited pool of people he can ask that won’t give him a biased answer or try to manipulate him for their own means. one of the people he confides in does just that.

the other gives him the honest truth.

his relationship with selina is fraught and she’s often one of the very nastiest people towards him, but it’s because of that he ends up opening up to her. she isn’t going to bullshit him and just say what he wants to hear.

and this is what makes damian different from them. both of them.

because he stops, because he questions, he’s still connected to reality. to his own humanity.

injustice’s bruce is a bruce that has quietly let his humanity die. he’s completely given over to the cold logic of batman and the idea that whatever he does to the people around him, no matter how morally dubious, is justified so long as it means protecting lives. he might not kill, but he really stops just short of that. he just doubles down on his beliefs and takes anyone who doesn’t agree with him as a traitor. he will go out of his way to rationalize how a largely guilty person is innocent (harleen) and how a largely innocent person is guilty (damian). and so he uses damian’s “betrayal” - ie, damian standing with clark instead of him - as justification for icing him out. that way he can ignore all the people who have reminded him time and time again that it was an accident.

bruce also can’t stand that damian won’t do what he says. bruce will ignore damian unless it benefits him. bruce will go on to frequently weaponize how badly damian wants forgiveness against him. there are multiple instances where he says “just do as i say and i’ll forgive you, son.”

and then in the next breath, he’ll tell damian that he “can’t forgive the deaths”, all the while he has harleen as his new sidekick. it’s fine that harleen helped with the scheme to blow up metropolis, killed jimmy olsen, and countless others. it’s not fine that damian did something he did all the time to dick - something dick himself shrugged off, because the expectation for this behavior was that dick would catch the baton - and it ended in tragedy.

because harleen listens to him and damian doesn’t. bruce cuts damian neatly out of his life and only really cares about him again when he’s a corpse.

damian, meanwhile, never stops trying to earn bruce’s forgiveness. in the canonical bad end (or well a comic offshoot of the canon ending) damian essentially dies begging bruce to forgive him, admitting that he always cared. he launches an absolutely insane rescue mission to save his father from clark’s torture and it costs him his life.

( but it’s worth mentioning - it takes damian showing bruce an image of kara for bruce to acknowledge him. )

even before this, damian was looking out for bruce in other ways. he was the reason selina got involved with the regime. because he offered her the chance to join and save bruce. damian’s anger towards bruce is less that he wants him dead, and more that bruce won’t stop unless he’s killed.

and damian is willing to kill him if bruce poses a threat to his ‘new’ family. he’s not going to watch bruce hurt the people he loves.

but his new father sucks just as much as his old one.

talia and bruce were more obviously abusive parents. they were controlling and sometimes asserted that control and obedience using physical violence and intimidation. in obvious ways you can point to and see abuse.

damian doesn’t recognize clark is using him until he sees clark discard kara, who should be everything to clark and is someone important to damian. before that, he has inklings that they’ve gone too far, but clark has been such a paragon of good that when he tells damian not to worry about it, he doesn’t. he hides all his darkness behind that smile and tells damian he’s good and worthy of people loving him, that they’re saving people and they won’t let another metropolis happen. clark talks to him and still (seems to) accept him even when they disagree.

damian misses clark’s equally as abusive tendencies because they hidden under the guise of a fatherly concern.

clark is manipulating him into divulging more than he wants to. a boundary damian set is being broken without damian even realizing it. damian’s uneasy. his body language goes from very easy and relaxed to overtly uncomfortable and almost submissive. it’s also very subtle but clark actually rises higher off the ground to intimidate and loom over him.

damian, who has only known bruce’s stormy silences in moments of disagreement, doesn’t recognize this for what it is. clark doesn’t take the slight out on him. clark doesn’t stop talking to him because he dared to question.

instead, he loops an arm around damian and praises him, rewards him for being honest and makes it seem like this is an open dialogue and not an interrogation. which it is. i wouldn’t call it gaslighting, but i would call it lovebombing. damian doesn’t realize that there was anything off about the encounter, or if he does, he’ll tell himself he’s just being paranoid.

after all. this ended amicably, not with him standing alone wondering what he did wrong, or being thrown across the room. clark basically stops just shy of ruffling his hair and calling him sport.

he was rewarded for honesty. and so any discomfort he felt was imagined.

i think a thing that a lot of fans miss is that injustice’s damian is a forthright person. he doesn’t lie or deceive much, and later on it will bother him that he’s keeping secrets from kara for ‘the greater good’. he loathes that bruce does it and works hard to not fall into that trap. he wants to be honest. he’s glad when he’s rewarded for that honesty.

because injustice’s damian doesn’t want to be batman. he wants to be superman. he wants to be good.

but injustice’s superman is not a good man.

clark keep secrets, many terrible secrets, and often hurts people and justifies it to himself. he just hides it far better than bruce does. clark is even more controlling and cruel, but he leans harder into his humanity and emotions to hide it. it’s easier to see bruce being cold and calculating and miss the way clark subtly uses what you want to get what he wants out of you. and you never really see it coming when he lashes out. he’ll apologize for it, of course, and if you’re not dead you’ll forgive him, because it’s clark. he didn’t mean it. right?

bruce manipulates overtly and grandly using intimidation, clark manipulates subtly using emotion. damian only recognizes one of these things when they happen.

so clark gives damian what he wants - a parent who loves him, someone he can talk to and even show a little vulnerability with - and then uses that against him.

the worst thing - the very worst thing - is that bruce and clark love damian. he knows this. both seem to genuinely consider him their son. and he knows this.

in injustice vs motu, bruce snaps fully into awareness just as diana snaps damian’s neck. he’s awake just in time to watch his son die. and when clark is brought onto the scene, clark falls to his knees and mourns damian and laments his role in driving him to this.

but they weaponize this parent-child bond he wants against him and each other. frankly, neither of them were very interested in him for who he was. nor for helping him be better and master his anger. damian’s body isn’t even cold before bruce uses it against clark, failing to acknowledge his own part in damian’s all too early demise.

he’s another chess piece on their board. one clark can use to wound bruce. one bruce can use to wound clark.

the person damian is when away from both of their influence is a more complete damian. he’s the very best of both of them.

the damian here is still curt and sometimes rude, but he laughs and bonds with the people around him. he values people’s freedom and seems to strive for honesty and communication. meaning no one is in his war to reclaim the world doesn’t want to be, and he makes no move without everyone knowing.

when he recruits adam, he tells them their story and what they’ve gone through and gives adam the choice to join them or stay in eternia.

anyway, all of this is to say that even all these years later, i continue to be so sad about injustice damian wayne.

edit:

now, there’s actually one other thing i want to bring up because i totally forgot about it.

so. issue 8 of injustice 2.

if we’re going with the idea of the reordered robin theory, which is what makes the most sense to me considering jason’s age and the friction between bruce and damian, this before jason dies. and if i’m wrong and the robins don’t have a different order, then this is before some enormous event that broke the slowly building trust.

there’s none of the undercurrent of hostility and distrust that shows up in year 0, which is immediately before year 1. we’re not given a timeframe for when this occurs, either, it’s just happier times.

but what’s really hard to ignore is that the dynamic between bruce and damian is completely different here. maybe tom taylor’s just settled more into writing the two of them, but i don’t think so. year zero comes after this.

he even acknowledges damian’s anger earlier in the chapter. but it’s less of a condemnation of his character and more a concern that he might not be ready to be on his own. alfred is the one advocating for caution, asking if he’s ready, bruce is the one saying yes, he is.

it’s a complete reversal.

and his trust is rewarded with a night of damian abandoning the “”mission”” he was given (get home from the furthest point of gotham in three hours) to help everyone along the way. which was the real goal all along, it was a test to see if damian’s compassion would win out over his want to win. and it does. bruce is proud of him.

so... what happened between them? what caused that shift?

i’m kind of worried we’re never going to know. like, i’m so glad that tom taylor is dc’s new golden boy and they’re just letting him build a million different aus. i buy every book he writes.

but also i’m dying because IJ2 was clearly planned to go on a lot longer than it did and i have questions that i know netherrealm doesn’t care about answering.

#damian wayne #injustice #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #jason todd #clark kent

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

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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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batricide · 3 years

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i’ll drop this on my blog here too actually bc it’s Important to how i play damian and also let me yell about the fact that ij’s bruce is not a good person and the reason why so many people hate damian is because they somehow miss that.

so! here’s a warning for: tyrannical totalitarian regimes, child abuse, abusive fathers, emotional manipulation, evil superman, character death & also random he-man. please note that this is about injustice and its characters, which are not a reflection on their mainstream counterparts or how i view them.

so it’s interesting that bruce is already counting damian out before injustice even starts. he’s comparing damian to jason - someone who he apparently no longer considers part of his legacy.

but it’s not fine to damian. damian is constantly horrified at the lengths bruce will go to.

damian is afraid of his father.

or respond like this:

or this:

and he’s terrified of his father. i cannot stress that enough. bruce at this point has already shown that he knows how to hurt his closest friends if they oppose him.

damian is a highly trained fighter, but he’s also a thirteen year old boy who knows he can’t overpower a man twice his size and weight.

and bruce?

now, bruce isn’t wrong about how things will escalate.

and that’s why injustice bruce is not a good guy.

and injustice bruce is even less empathetic and expressive than prime bruce.

which is why you get a confrontation like this:

but clark has looked at damian and and decided that damian is good. damian has problems, clark can admit that and does, but damian is good. like bruce himself.

damian’s relationship with heroism isn’t built on an intrinsic need for control or power, nor is it a means of validating his self worth.

people just need him. they’re suffering. and he wants to be there for them.

but again, we’re not there yet.

so, alfred reaches out to touch damian. damian asks him repeatedly to let go. when alfred doesn’t, damian tries throwing him off, not realizing how much strength he now possesses.

( granted, yes, he threw bruce into the penny and it almost crushes alfred )

damian apologizes and he means it. alfred’s first question is to ask for bruce.

“”hawkgirl”” intervenes to try to end this fight before it can escalate further.

damian himself is a mess. this line resonates because damian, too, is afraid. afraid of bruce, afraid of being what bruce thinks he is. there’s only so far he can bury it under the anger.

he doesn’t want to be bruce. he will not be bruce.

but unlike his two dads, damian doesn’t close himself off to what he’s feeling completely, nor does he decide to rush towards external solutions for his pain. he’s, again, very aware that something is wrong. he doesn’t hold to his convictions the same way bruce or clark do, he questions. he’s deeply unhappy with who he is and what he’s doing.

the other gives him the honest truth.

and this is what makes damian different from them. both of them.

because he stops, because he questions, he’s still connected to reality. to his own humanity.

because harleen listens to him and damian doesn’t. bruce cuts damian neatly out of his life and only really cares about him again when he’s a corpse.

( but it’s worth mentioning - it takes damian showing bruce an image of kara for bruce to acknowledge him. )

and damian is willing to kill him if bruce poses a threat to his ‘new’ family. he’s not going to watch bruce hurt the people he loves.

but his new father sucks just as much as his old one.

damian misses clark’s equally as abusive tendencies because they hidden under the guise of a fatherly concern.

after all. this ended amicably, not with him standing alone wondering what he did wrong, or being thrown across the room. clark basically stops just shy of ruffling his hair and calling him sport.

he was rewarded for honesty. and so any discomfort he felt was imagined.

because injustice’s damian doesn’t want to be batman. he wants to be superman. he wants to be good.

but injustice’s superman is not a good man.

bruce manipulates overtly and grandly using intimidation, clark manipulates subtly using emotion. damian only recognizes one of these things when they happen.

so clark gives damian what he wants - a parent who loves him, someone he can talk to and even show a little vulnerability with - and then uses that against him.

the worst thing - the very worst thing - is that bruce and clark love damian. he knows this. both seem to genuinely consider him their son. and he knows this.

he’s another chess piece on their board. one clark can use to wound bruce. one bruce can use to wound clark.

the person damian is when away from both of their influence is a more complete damian. he’s the very best of both of them.

when he recruits adam, he tells them their story and what they’ve gone through and gives adam the choice to join them or stay in eternia.

anyway, all of this is to say that even all these years later, i continue to be so sad about injustice damian wayne.

edit:

now, there’s actually one other thing i want to bring up because i totally forgot about it.

so. issue 8 of injustice 2.

it’s a complete reversal.

so... what happened between them? what caused that shift?

but also i’m dying because IJ2 was clearly planned to go on a lot longer than it did and i have questions that i know netherrealm doesn’t care about answering.

#ooc.#tl;dr dick grayson raised a good boy who needed support at a critical time and instead was taken in by cruel god wearing a kind smile #and damian doesn't realize it until it's far too late and he's done so much he can't take back

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kdenbibi · 6 years

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Ya Rouhi

Authors note: “(H/n)” stands for hero name. My hand slipped and I wrote an angsty dami fic no one asked for lol if y’all want a part 2 let me know//??////////?//////??////?/ also i used google translate for the Arabic so forgive me if theres any mistakes, Ya Rouhi should translate to “You are my soul.”

Warnings: A N G S T Y as heck, blood, and violence, swearing

Summery: You have bad timing.

He had contingency plans for everyone on the team, back ups for his back ups and his glorified fanny pack of a belt had nearly everything one would need in case of emergency, the family business only went so well because of the almost concerning amount of planning that went into every patrol and every mission.

He prided himself on being ready for anything life threw his way.

So why didn't he see this coming?

Your mission was supposed to be simple, boring even, you were tasked with Terra to investigate a suspected gang hide out.

You bid everyone a casual goodbye, your eyes lingering on Damian's longer than the rest, it caused the corners of his mouth to twitch upwards.

"See you around pretty bird." He nodded biting back a grin, turning and going to the monitor room to be your look out for the mission.

At this point no one questioned why he happened to be look out every time you went on a mission without him, they were too scared of his reaction but they knew, something was definitely going on between the grumpy boy and yourself.

This unspoken thing between the two of you was understood throughout the team, anyone who looked at the two of you together could pratically see the love you had for each other rolling off of you in waves, which would be the first step to your downfall.

A few hours after you headed out with the newest Titan, Damian checked in for a status update.

"(h/n) report? Any signs of the gang?" He'd never admit it out loud but he was obviously nervous anytime you had to go on a mission without him, it's not that he doubted your abilities but he always felt better if he was there to have your back.

After a few tense moments the com cracked to life lifting a weight off his shoulders.

"Negative Robin, so far it's just this weird warehouse and a whole lot of dust."

"Me and Terra are going to split up, she'll sweep around outside and I guess I'll- wait hold on I think I found something." Damian leaned on the edge of his seat waiting for more information.

"Be careful (h/n)." He spoke trying not to sound as concerned as he was.

"Don't worry about me R, I'm a big girl I can handle myself- sides' if I don't come home who's gonna put up with you?"

Damian felt himself smiling before he cleared his throat and responded.

"Any sign of activity?"

"That's the weird part, this place is more ghost town than it is active gang hide out- where'd we get that tip anyway?"

"It was anonymous ." I answered, the gut feeling that something wasn't right crawled into my mind. "Do one more walk around then head back-" your voice suddenly interrupted him.

"Just out of curiosity, on the blue prints for this building did it mention anything about a super creepy elevator leading down to an equally creepy high tech lab?"

"No-"

"Okay then, either this gang is selling something other than weed or we got a problem on our- "

The line was suddenly overtaken by static, which caused the young Wayne's eyes to go wide, they were on one of the most advanced systems in the world there shouldn't- no couldn't have been interference that bad.

Unless someone sabotaged your equipment.

"(N/n) get out of there now, this is bigger than you, I repeat grab Terra and retreat now- wait for back up." At this point he'd left the desk he was sitting at and began to dress himself in his gear. After another thirty minutes of trying to reach you he prepared the team for a rescue mission, they all gathered in the monitor room to play back your audio transmission in case they came across anything.

"Are we clear on the plan? I'll take the-"

"Damian."

Your voice spoke out so suddenly, taking everyone in the room by surprise, the screen flickered to life showing your bruised and bloodied face.

"Hey." You called giving your team a bloody crooked grin.

He stared at the screen in disbelief.

"(h/n)?"

"Damian I don't have much time." You wheezed out struggling in vain against the tight rope that had you bound.

"What the hell is going on (Y/n)?! Where is Terra? Who attacked you?!" He yelled, hands clenched so tight they began to hurt. The team watched on in silence and fear.

Instead of answering you swallowed thickly and glanced off screen, soon a figure walked on screen to gently pet your head.

"I'm glad you could join us baby bird, me and (Y/n) here have just been getting to know each other, she's a sweet girl, I see why she caught your eye."

Deathstroke's unmistakable voice called out from the screen.

Damian's blood ran cold.

"You picked a firecracker I'll tell you that much." He said rubbing his jaw where a crack in his mask had began to form no doubt from your famous right hook.

"Slade if you touch her again I'll send you to hell myself."

This earned a deep chuckle from the man as he walked towards the camera.

"You'll what? Throw me in jail? Let's not kid ourselves here runt, you've lost your edge, all that hard work and for what? You to go soft." He slowly made his way to your crumpled form.

Yanking you upwards by your hair he bared your throat only to casually press a knife to the soft skin.

"You're weak Damian, you can't hope to save anyone let alone her."

Damian began to panic even more, he knew Slade could end you with a flick of his wrist right now, no matter how much he wanted to lash out he had to play his game until he came up with a plan.

"This is a personal matter between me and the runt, would you mind giving us some privacy?" He spoke to the rest of the team who ahd gathered around the screen.

They all shared a look, knowing it was best to listen to them they silently left the room.

All Damain could do was nod his head, never in his life had he felt this helpless.

"I will admit this kid has some guts, wouldn't tell me anything even when I started cutting away at her."

"What do you want?" Damian asked, voice deadly calm. His chest heaved in ragged breaths at he switched from looking at Slade to the knife.

"Everything she knows about the Titans."

This earned a laugh from your broken from,

"Never gonna happen asshole."

Slade quickly threw you to the floor, chair and all, before swiftly kicking you into the wall.

"-As you can see, she's more stubborn than you, so I'm switching tactics."

"I want personal records of everyone on the team delivered to this location in thirty minutes, just you, no back up, no bats."

"Okay, let her go, I'll have them on a drive for you as soon as I know she's safe." Damian spoke without missing a beat. A part of him was ashamed for folding so soon, but his fear was making rationalizing impossible.

A deep rumble of a laugh left the assassin's mouth.

"Looks like you're not a big an idiot as they say." He walked off screen once more only to come back with a timer.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you, though if I were you I'd hurry up, your girlfriend here won't last much longer."

Damian went to work typing at the computer, pulling up his friends files and information, he didn't know what the timer was counting down too but it didn't take much imagination to know when it got to zero you'd be out of time.

Slade appeared to have left because you shot up like a bullet. Apparently his last kick sent you crashing so hard the chair you were strapped to broke, giving you a chance.

"That dickhead sure packs a punch."

"Don't worry I'm going to fix this-"

"It's pointless Damian don't do it."

His head snapped up to glare at you before he continued typing.

"Shut up, I'll give him the information, save you then get it back before he knows what hit him, I just need you to stay awake for me can you do that beloved?"

A goofy grin found its way on your bruised face as you got closer to the screen.

"You called me beloved."

"Yes, I'm going to be calling you that for the rest of our days because you're getting out of this you understand me? This is going to be a story you tell our kids."

"Now we have kids? You haven't even taken me to dinner."

He looked away from his task to give you the best half of a smile he could manage.

"Yet."

Your smile fell as you looked off screen to take in your surroundings.

"Dami stop."

"No I can do this I just need to concentrate."

"Damian please." Your voice was stern, despite your shaking form.

"The elevators down, I got a useless leg and even if i somehow managed to make it up all those stairs-" His typing finally stopped as he looked at you.

"Look I'm no Batman but I'm pretty sure this place is rigged to blow." You spoke glancing at the timer with a look he couldn't pin down.

Fear, anxiety, acceptance.

"Don't come- I know what you're thinking but there isn't a way out this time." Your voice cracked as you stared at his face through the gritty camera .

"This was never about information, he wanted you to come here so you'd be killed too."

"Stop talking as if you're already dead!" He yelled trying to hold back his own tears.

"I can do it..." He spoke in a broken voice trying his best to think of a way out.

"This isn't on you Dami you hear me?" You spoke through your tears completly ignoring him.

"I love you- and I know I have the worst timing ever and these are kinda shitty last words but I'm freaking out a little and I know it's selfish to ask but please stay here- with me."

He looked up from the floor to meet your eye.

"Ya Rouhi." He spoke in his mother tongue, and you didn't know Arabic but you didn't need to, to know he felt the same.

Seconds felt like hours as your screen began to shake, alarms wailed in the distance as whatever device Slade had set began to go off throughout the building.

Your hair fell loosely around your head, the blood and dirt caked on your skin did nothing to hide your beauty, now with tear stained eyes you managed to look like star. You graced him with a smile, never looking away from him, despite the growing destruction around you.

You opened your mouth to say something, what that was he'll never know, because in an instant the screen went black.

A lost connection logo blinked at his still form.

Everything and nothing ran through his mind all at once.

He felt his knees hit the floor. Ice spread through his chest as he tried to move, to go to you, to tell someone, to do something-

But the ice in his veins had settled, and the light in his eyes was gone.

#dc #dc imagine #poc reader #admin a #poc imagine #poc reader insert #dc x reader #damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #angst #damian x reader #damian wayne angst #older!damian wayne

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flauntpage · 7 years

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The Outlet Pass: Charlotte's Tailspin, Cavs Trade Targets, and NBA What-Ifs

1. Can Charlotte Turn Things Around?

The Charlotte Hornets are stuck in an injury-induced tailspin. They’ve dropped eight of their last 10 games, including two straight at home against the Los Angeles Lakers and Chicago Bulls. Their head coach is out with a health issue (get well soon, Steve Clifford) and they’re four games back of a playoff spot, with four teams—the Orlando Magic, New York Knicks, Miami Heat, and Brooklyn Nets—standing in their way.

At one point last week they went to their bench and I literally didn’t know the first names of two players on the court. Michael Carter-Williams is making Marcus Smart look like Glen Rice and Malik Monk is barely in the rotation while Donovan Mitchell (the next guard selected) is averaging 27.2 points per game in December.

Charlotte's starting five is fine when everybody’s healthy but they've only played Kemba Walker, Nicolas Batum, Marvin Williams, Dwight Howard, and Jeremy Lamb together for seven minutes all season. Normally, they are stuck with Michael Kidd-Gilchrist on the floor, dragging the offense down. Just look at how disrespectful the Thunder are to MKG in the play below.

Kidd-Gilchrist isn’t fooling anyone from deep, but he’s now a modestly-reliable safety valve from 15 feet and in. The Hornets are rushing to execute a 2-for-1 on this particular sequence, but it’s still jarring to see an NBA starter find himself SO open and not come close to touching the ball.

Their primary Batum + Bench unit was doing pretty well before Cody Zeller had knee surgery, though, partially because Lamb was in it. When Dwayne Bacon replaces Kidd-Gilchrist in the starting lineup they destroy people.

Ultimately, it all comes down to the Hornets just not being very good when Walker isn’t in the game. According to Cleaning the Glass, Charlotte is 22.1 points per 100 possessions better with Walker on the floor. Even if Batum is the de-facto primary ball-handler, their offense is stagnant and averages less than one point per possession. That’s so bad, but everything goes to hell when they’re both out. (The starting five is okay, but not crushing opponents enough to justify heavy minutes together while the bench can’t fend for itself.)

In what almost felt like season-saving victory against the Oklahoma City Thunder on Monday night, interim head coach Stephen Silas stretched Walker and Lamb’s playing time into a 15.5-minute stint to open the second half. In his eyes, Charlotte’s bench was a Rob Zombie-directed blood bath. Slaughter would commence the second he switched up his backcourt.

Silas knew Charlotte needed that game. For extending his starters, he was rewarded with ridiculous, completely unsustainable shot making against a defense that sorely missed Andre Roberson (I think Alex Abrines just fouled another three-point shooter). But a win is a win is a win.

With their upcoming schedule providing zero seconds to exhale, the Hornets will either get healthy, tinker with the rotation and stop their ship from sinking, or face some difficult questions before the trade deadline. (‘Does anyone want the $76 million left on Batum’s contract? How about the $29 million owed to Marvin Williams?’ or, ‘Can we please for the love of God find a backup point guard?’)

Barring a significant transaction, next year’s roster will look about the same as this one, plus whoever they get in the draft. But whether or not this team views itself as a buyer or a seller is another relevant discussion. The Hornets have enough talent to make the playoffs and even win a few games once they get in (or even an entire series if they can somehow grab the sixth seed).

Rebuilding won’t be easy with this cap sheet, and Walker is smack dab in the middle of his prime. If Monk doesn’t make rapid progress from here on out, do they think about dealing him and/or their first-round pick in the 2018 draft for immediate help? Injuries stink and so does bad luck, but the Hornets aren’t as rudderless as they currently feel. We’ll know even more about the direction they should head as the next couple months unfold.

2. This Year’s NBA What-Ifs Are Pretty Great

This season has been filled with a handful of shocking developments. After a possible career-altering injury to their best all-around player, the Boston Celtics are very good. With their entire roster 100 percent healthy (relatively speaking), the Oklahoma City Thunder are not very good. The Indiana Pacers are good. The Miami Heat are bad. The Portland Trail Blazers are Stranger Things Season 3.

Based on reports and rumors from various points throughout the offseason, here’s a semi-educated look at how things might look today had a few key moves gone down a bit differently.

A. Carmelo Anthony is traded to the Portland Trail Blazers

For the sake of argument, let’s just say Portland gave up Evan Turner, Mo Harkless, and a future first-round pick. So, in all likelihood, the Blazers would start Melo at the three, Al-Farouq Aminu at the four, and Jusif Nurkic at center. That starting five looks offensively unstoppable on paper, but, like, so does Oklahoma City's. Make this trade and what happens to Portland's top-five defense? Are they still rebounding this well? Do they score at will or does Anthony further impede what’s been an unusually static offense?

Photo by Joseph Weiser-USA TODAY Sports

In addition to transforming into a gigantic whoopee cushion whenever he's around the basket—Melo’s days of getting to the free-throw line are, at 33 years old, understandably dunzo—his assist to usage ratio ranks in the ninth percentile at his position. Even though the percentage of his shots that are unassisted hasn’t been this low since he was with the Denver Nuggets (which feels 7,000 years ago), he still loves long twos and there are defiant insecurities related to how he’s approached the seasons' first couple months. His stubbornness has contributed to the league’s most glaring disappointment, and he’s shooting 37.6 percent from the floor over the Thunder's last 10 games.

Would things be different in Portland? Would Anthony play better off C.J. McCollum and Damian Lillard, next to role players who won’t clog the floor and know how to pass? The stakes would be pretty low; Portland would remain unable to circumvent its own flaws and triumphantly battle through a ruthless playoff bracket. But they might be incrementally better than they are now, guaranteed a spot in the postseason, with pleasant vibes carrying them forward.

The other key side effect, assuming every other move happens as it has, is that Enes Kanter and Doug McDermott would still be on the Thunder instead of enjoying Westbrook-free serenity in midtown Manhattan. How would Anthony being in Portland affect Paul George in Oklahoma? Besides more shot opportunities, it’s hard to say. Assuming Billy Donovan chose to stagger his two best players, George would have more time on units that’d call for him to be one of the dozen best players in the world. The team's defense might be even better than it already is.

Westbrook could also spend more time going Full Westbrook, even though Full Westbrook as we knew it last year might be a permanent thing of the past.

B. Gordon Hayward signs with the Miami Heat

Would Kyrie Irving express interest in re-signing with the Boston Celtics if Hayward chose a different team, or were Al Horford’s harmonious style, stable ownership, and Brad Stevens' genius already enough? If not, the Celtics would likely be in the middle of the Eastern Conference with Marcus Smart starting at point guard and Terry Rozier playing 30 minutes a night. They'd disintegrate when Horford hit the bench, and any long-term injury that'd keep him out would be fatal. Also, Jae Crowder would still be around, likely clogging a pipeline that's seen Jayson Tatum and Jaylen Brown flourish.

If Hayward is healthy, what does Miami’s roster look like? (WHERE IS KELLY OLYNYK?!?) Is Miami better than it is right now or would Hayward struggle within the cramped confines of a Hassan Whiteside-Justise Winslow frontcourt? Even if they didn’t want to re-sign James Johnson or Dion Waiters with Hayward in tow, the Heat might still turn to decreasingly unconventional means, perhaps permanently plopping the one-time All-Star at the four, and having guards like Goran Dragic and Wayne Ellington set ball screens for him 35 feet from the basket.

C. Paul George is traded to the Boston Celtics

Things have so far worked out fine in Boston, but let me crawl out on a limb and declare that this team would be really freaking good if they somehow had Paul George, healthy Hayward, Irving, and Horford on the same team. Sub George for Tatum right now and they’re (maybe but not definitely) a better regular-season team. Their ceiling elevates on both ends in the postseason.

The more important ripple effect here is with Westbrook and the Thunder. Does he sign his extension or demand a trade? What does professional basketball in Oklahoma City even look like? And where are the Indiana Pacers? They don’t have Victor Oladipo (a hipster’s MVP candidate if there ever was one) or Domantas Sabonis. Their optimism would instead spout from Tatum’s magical touch and any other assets Kevin Pritchard could pry from Danny Ainge.

Even though this exercise is purely hypothetical, I’m far too lazy to trace imaginary steps and figure out what Boston’s roster would actually look like, but if the Celtics’ starting five somehow had four All-Stars and Jaylen Brown, um, that team would probably go to the Finals.

3. So, Who Isn’t Shooting Threes?

The highly scientific requirements to answer this question are such: A) a player has to launch no more than one three per game, B) he must average at least 12 minutes, and C) he needs to have appeared in at least 20 games. Here are the 49 players who qualify.

If you hold those benchmarks up against last season (and raise the minimum number of games to 55) that number rises by 12 players. Five years ago that same list had 99 players on it. For those counting at home, with my admittedly arbitrary qualifiers, that means the number of players (who actually play) who don’t use the three-point line is about half what it was during LeBron James’ third season in Miami—hard evidence of a revolution that’s been identified in real time.

Photo by Shanna Lockwood - USA TODAY Sports

Let’s go back to this year’s group, which reads like an endangered species list. How many players on there are useful despite their inability/unwillingness to shoot threes? If we first look at total minutes played, Ben Simmons unsurprisingly ranks first and is a revelatory prospect who's simultaneously defying convention while meeting his expectations. From there we’re infested by a crap ton of traditional big men who impact the game in other areas. They rebound, protect the rim, and set screens. Some space the floor by diving through the paint. Some are still dangerous at the elbow, and can engineer decent offense with their vision and a mid-range jump shot. A very small handful do damage with their back to the basket.

The non-bigs here are exactly who you’d expect: T.J. McConnell, Kyle Anderson, Rondae Hollis-Jefferson, Shaun Livingston, Tony Allen, Ish Smith, Kidd-Gilchrist, Dejounte Murray, etc. Omri Casspi is on there for some reason, too, somehow posting the highest True Shooting percentage of his career and the lowest three-point rate (The. Warriors. Are. Not. Fair.)

Over a third of everyone listed is at least 29 years old; five years from now this register will probably be half as long as it is today. This is foreseeable and a little depressing. The three-point shot is a game-changing roller-coaster, and when a collection of great shooters help frame the court in a way that broadens driving and passing lanes, the aesthetics can be breathtaking. (The. Warriors. Are. Not. Fair.)

I also just enjoy watching guys like Kidd-Gilchrist and Hollis-Jefferson—those who stand out with idiosyncratic limitations—but if you’re trying to win a championship right now it’s hard to justify their presence in your rotation. None of this is new, but stopping to think about what it means for basketball’s future every so often is necessary. I don’t want every team to play like the Rockets even though no team in the world is more entertaining.

4. Houston’s Angles are Ridiculous

Speaking of the Rockets, I’ve thought about this pass almost every day since it happened:

Like, what the hell? I have so many questions, starting with: In the moment: when did Chris Paul first believe that flinging a one-handed cross-court pass—directly parallel with the baseline—would actually work? Was it born from frustration or design?

As the shot clock ticks on, Tarik Black appears unsure of what he’s supposed to do. Paul directs him to set a down screen for Trevor Ariza, but Ariza instead jogs away in an attempt to drag his man to the weakside corner. Black then runs up to set a ball screen for Paul. There’s six freaking seconds on the clock and not even two dribbles into his assault Paul rifles the ball at an impossibly difficult and rare angle to create a wide-open three on the other side of the floor.

As the pick-and-roll unfolds, Thabo Sefolosha points for Royce O’Neale to stay in the paint and help defend what, in all likelihood, will either be a shot from Paul or Black. Does Paul see this and know it means Sefolosha is about to drop half a step toward the baseline to worry about Ariza in the corner? How is he so smart?!?

Paul and James Harden combine to average 19 assists per game. They’re second and third in the league in that category, respectively. But the Rockets only rank 12th in assist percentage and 29th in passes per game. They’re 28th in secondary assists and 13th in potential assists. That’s partly due to the fact that no team isolates more frequently than Houston. They maximize the space provided by their collection of human catapults and take advantage of the virtuous one-on-one skills possessed by their dual MVP candidates. (Not only do they isolate more than anybody else, no team is more efficient when attacking that way. This team is absurd.)

But Houston’s offense doesn’t peak when the ball is dribbled. Jaw-dropping, spontaneous passes made at angles very few players can even dream about allow the Rockets to generate efficient shots that catch defenses off balance. The surgical precision seen above is not attainable for most guards around the league, but it's basically second nature for Paul and Harden. Quick sidebar: Harden is probably going to win his first MVP this season, but not enough words can be written about Paul, who’s re-asserted himself as the second-best floor general in basketball and an automatic All-NBA member. Passes like that one help explain why.

5. J.J. Redick’s Game Isn’t Supposed to Expand, but it Has

At 33 years old, Redick is playing 33.5 minutes a night for a team that’s averaging 103.2 possessions per 48 minutes when he’s on the floor. Redick has never played this fast and his minutes have never been this high. As everyone fawns over Paul distancing himself from the formulaic style he enjoyed in L.A.,, Redick is experiencing the exact same thing in a role that doesn’t allow him to step on the gas whenever he wants.

Instead of seeing his responsibilities narrow, Redick’s doing more stuff in different ways. According to Synergy Sports, the percentage of all his jumpers that were off the dribble last season was 39 percent. Right now, that number is 47 percent, somewhat-expected uptick that's lowered his accuracy and can partially be attributed to greener teammates.

But heading into the season, without Paul for the first time in half a decade, I wasn’t sure Redick could do much beyond space the floor while Simmons ran high pick-and-rolls or Joel Embiid corralled entry passes on the block. Glue him to the corner and run him off a bunch of pindowns and Philly couldn’t be criticized for misunderstanding their marquee free agent acquisition. Instead, they’ve expanded his responsibilities in some very smart ways.

The ball feels like it’s in his hands far more than it was in Los Angeles. Instead of running through an endless maze of bodies, Redick's slicing defenses open with direct hand-offs and a bit more pick-and-roll action, all ultimately designed to turn the defense’s brain into toast.

Knowing the Lakers want to switch everything, Philly has Redick’s DHO turn into a staggered screen-and-roll. But Kentavious Caldwell-Pope doesn’t stop his pursuit—because Redick is that scary—momentarily putting two on the ball and allowing Redick to find Robert Covington wide open on the opposite wing. Kyle Kuzma switches off Amir Johnson in time to run Covington off the three-point line, but his off-balanced helps introduce the ball to the basket.

Whenever he sets a ball screen, two defenders are forced to communicate in an instant. Should they switch or fight through? Sometimes that question goes unanswered and both follow Redick. And sometimes the split-second hesitation is all a monster like Simmons needs to spark a match and pour gasoline all over the court.

Philadelphia is not good when Simmons and Embiid aren’t on the floor, but Redick stabilizes things as best he can, preventing bad from becoming apocalyptic. His assist rate in those minutes soars up to 25.8 (with a dependable 5.67 assist-to-turnover ratio) and his True Shooting is an uncanny 68.2. Covington is the only Sixer with a higher usage percentage.

All this is a pleasant surprise. I, personally, thought Redick was entering a different phase of his career after Joe Ingles crushed him in the playoffs. But in a new environment, as an elder statesman, Redick has shown that he's far more than a shooter, in a league that should be able to make good use of his talent for years to come.

6. C.J. Miles and The Babies

Since O.G. Anunonby cracked Toronto's starting lineup and Delon Wright dislocated his right shoulder (two events that basically happened at the same time, about a week before Thanksgiving), Raptors head coach Dwane Casey decided to hitch 30-year-old C.J. Miles to a bunch of children. Norm Powell (24 years old), Jakob Poeltl (22 and in need of a better nickname than "Austrian Hammer"), Fred VanVleet (23), and Pascal Siakam (23).

This is Toronto's second-most common five-man group over the past month, and they've been absolutely dreadful on both ends. But guess what? I don't care! Stubborn Casey is good sometimes. Yes, the Raptors should go back to a Lowry + Bench unit that makes opposing second units weep—swap Lowry in for Miles and that exact same supporting cast crushes everybody—but this makes me feel like Miles is a lovable babysitter that you can't, in good conscience, stay mad at.

Playing Miles at the three as opposed to the four doesn't make a ton of sense, but using him to space the floor for an inexperienced collection of players Toronto will need in the playoffs is fine enough for now.

7. Austin Rivers is an Isolation Genius...or Something

Thanks to a slew of notable injuries that have quickly transformed the perennial playoff-contending Los Angeles Clippers into the Los Angeles Clippers, Austin Rivers has been thrust into a role far greater than his ability can handle. But despite being an inefficient, borderline first-option with shaky shot selection, Rivers is also one of the league’s top one-on-one players.

Photo by Kim Klement - USA TODAY Sports

According to Synergy Sports, Rivers averaged 0.94 points per possession in isolation situations last year, a figure that placed him in the 73rd percentile. That’s not bad, even though it was likely boosted an unquantifiable degree thanks to Chris Paul, Blake Griffin, Jamal Crawford, J.J. Redick, Marreese Speights and even Ray Felton occupying the opposition's attention in various ways.

This year, surrounded by G-League talent more nights than not, Rivers’ isolation numbers are even better. He’s averaging 1.05 points per possession (74th percentile) and is actually more efficient than established All-Stars like Kyrie Irving, Russell Westbrook, Giannis Antetokounmpo, and DeMar DeRozan.

Some of this is because the career 35.5 percent three-point shooter has canned 40.7 percent of his outside attempts—including 42.7 percent of his 3.0 pull ups per game. And some of it’s because he never ever ever turns it over. But few players symbolize the “million dollar move, 10 cent finish” expression better than Rivers, who’s a master at breaking his man down off the dribble, entering a crowd of rim protectors, and lofting a prayer towards the basket.

Given that this is such an uncertain time for the Clippers, swapping Rivers out for a second-round pick and expiring money (he has a $12.6 million player option for next year) should be an objective for their front office. Maybe there's a general manager out there who sees these numbers (particularly that impressive shooting) and wonders if Rivers can help his playoff team in a seven-game series.

8. Cleveland’s Juiciest Asset Is Not Really That Juicy

The Brooklyn Nets are, officially, no longer atrocious. Heading into Wednesday night’s action, they had a higher winning percentage than 10 teams despite not having their opening night backcourt starters for most of the season. They’re below average on both sides of the ball, but only three teams launch threes more frequently and only one owns a faster pace.

Brooklyn’s starting five—DeMarre Carroll, Spencer Dinwiddie, Rondae Hollis-Jefferson, Tyler Zeller, and Allen Crabbe—has obliterated opponents by 25.3 points per 100 possessions since Kenny Atkinson turned to it right before Thanksgiving, and adding Jahlil Okafor, Nik Stauskas, and healthy D’Angelo Russell to the mix will only improve their depth and diversify their offensive options.

When teams start to really tank in March and April, the Nets will be busting their ass to win games and get better at everything they do. All this is bad news for the Cleveland Cavaliers. What was once their crown jewel for Kyrie Irving might now be Zach Collins (who's actually playing pretty well, but that's beside the point).

Does this mean Koby Altman should aggressively shop his best asset around the league? It’s probably still a little too early for that, considering their current rhythm and fact that they’ve yet to see what Isaiah Thomas looks like in their rotation. But the odds of that pick staying in Cleveland feel a lot lower today than they were a couple months ago.

The pick’s dropping value also changes what it’s worth. That means strapping a top-three protection to it and checking on Aaron Gordon’s availability is far more likely than getting someone like Paul George or DeMarcus Cousins. Realistic targets are now closer to the Harrison Barnes, Batum, or Rodney Hood mold (a lottery pick for any of those three is still a dramatic overpay, even though they’d help the Cavs match up better against the Golden State Warriors or Houston Rockets in the Finals).

A couple weeks ago, before the Memphis Grizzlies fired David Fizdale, I wrote that Cleveland should give up the Nets pick for Marc Gasol. I didn’t believe they ever would, but now it’s not so crazy! When you have LeBron James doing UNBELIEVABLE LeBron James things every night, holding back as a front office feels criminal.

What’s the worst that could happen? They lose in the Finals, he leaves, and they don’t have the 10th pick in the draft? How much better off would Cleveland be if they hold onto that pick, lose in the Finals and watch him leave? They were arguably the worst franchise in the league during the four seasons he spent in Miami. Dark days lie ahead no matter what. The best thing they can do is go all-in and capitalize on a historic season from an all-time icon. Trade the pick, Cleveland! Convince him to stay! You're screwed if he leaves even if you have it!

9. David Nwaba is a Good NBA Player

Every time I watch Nwaba he makes three to five effort-intensive plays that makes Chicago feel like a competitive team. He’s just so damn physical, a tenacious rebounder who defends, draws fouls, finishes around the rim, and never turns it over.The Bulls (yes, the Bulls) are outscoring opponents by 4.5 points per 100 possessions with Nwaba on the floor, performing like a 53-win team. He’s awesome, and aside from the fact that he doesn’t shoot threes and there won't be a ton of money to go around this summer, one of the league’s 30 teams would be smart to offer present the restricted free agent with an offer sheet.

10. Finding Hope in Memphis

Almost exactly one year ago, Deyonta Davis tore the plantar fascia in his left foot, a devastating injury for any human being but particularly savage for someone who plays professional basketball and weighs 240 pounds. It essentially ended his rookie season.

In year two, as Marc Gasol’s primary backup thanks to Brandan Wright’s nagging groin injury, Davis is averaging 3.9 points and 3.2 rebounds per game. But in limited time he’s shown decent mobility on the defensive end and a feathery touch around the basket.

As someone who isn't fast enough to scamper around the perimeter, Memphis has him drop defending almost every pick-and-roll. Here he is stepping up to force Abrines to pass to Jerami Grant, then sliding back and forcing a turnover.

Now, against an actual playmaker who knew how to string his dribble out a bit longer, this sequence would probably not have the same result. Davis struggles against bigs who can shoot, too, forcing the Grizzlies to late switch or surrender open threes.

But according to Cleaning the Glass, whenever he's on the floor Memphis allows a ridiculous 11.3 fewer points per 100 possessions. (Opponents are also barely hitting threes when Davis is in the game, so, yeah, that's kind of meaningful and has nothing to do with his defense.)

On the other end, he's shooting 79 percent at the rim. That's really good! And aside from the natural hiccup as he learns to read the floor, taking shots as a roller when he should hit the open man, there are examples of him identifying what he needs to do and executing immediately.

Before he even catches Ben McLemore's pass out of Washington's trap, Davis' eyes are set on the opposite wing, initiating a sequence that leads to an open three and one of the most beautiful possessions Memphis has experienced all season.

He's still a project, but one who only played 600 minutes in college and hardly saw the floor last season. Davis is shooting 72.7 percent whenever he rolls to the basket; the day Gasol leaves Memphis will be dark, but Davis is beginning to flash the talent of someone who deserves a chance to *attempt* to fill those humongous shoes.

The Outlet Pass: Charlotte's Tailspin, Cavs Trade Targets, and NBA What-Ifs published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

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amtushinfosolutionspage · 7 years

Text

The Outlet Pass: Charlotte’s Tailspin, Cavs Trade Targets, and NBA What-Ifs

1. Can Charlotte Turn Things Around?

Charlotte’s starting five is fine when everybody’s healthy but they’ve only played Kemba Walker, Nicolas Batum, Marvin Williams, Dwight Howard, and Jeremy Lamb together for seven minutes all season. Normally, they are stuck with Michael Kidd-Gilchrist on the floor, dragging the offense down. Just look at how disrespectful the Thunder are to MKG in the play below.

2. This Year’s NBA What-Ifs Are Pretty Great

Based on reports and rumors from various points throughout the offseason, here’s a semi-educated look at how things might look today had a few key moves gone down a bit differently.

A. Carmelo Anthony is traded to the Portland Trail Blazers

For the sake of argument, let’s just say Portland gave up Evan Turner, Mo Harkless, and a future first-round pick. So, in all likelihood, the Blazers would start Melo at the three, Al-Farouq Aminu at the four, and Jusif Nurkic at center. That starting five looks offensively unstoppable on paper, but, like, so does Oklahoma City’s. Make this trade and what happens to Portland’s top-five defense? Are they still rebounding this well? Do they score at will or does Anthony further impede what’s been an unusually static offense?

Photo by Joseph Weiser-USA TODAY Sports

In addition to transforming into a gigantic whoopee cushion whenever he’s around the basket—Melo’s days of getting to the free-throw line are, at 33 years old, understandably dunzo—his assist to usage ratio ranks in the ninth percentile at his position. Even though the percentage of his shots that are unassisted hasn’t been this low since he was with the Denver Nuggets (which feels 7,000 years ago), he still loves long twos and there are defiant insecurities related to how he’s approached the seasons’ first couple months. His stubbornness has contributed to the league’s most glaring disappointment, and he’s shooting 37.6 percent from the floor over the Thunder’s last 10 games.

The other key side effect, assuming every other move happens as it has, is that Enes Kanter and Doug McDermott would still be on the Thunder instead of enjoying Westbrook-free serenity in midtown Manhattan. How would Anthony being in Portland affect Paul George in Oklahoma? Besides more shot opportunities, it’s hard to say. Assuming Billy Donovan chose to stagger his two best players, George would have more time on units that’d call for him to be one of the dozen best players in the world. The team’s defense might be even better than it already is.

Westbrook could also spend more time going Full Westbrook, even though Full Westbrook as we knew it last year might be a permanent thing of the past.

B. Gordon Hayward signs with the Miami Heat

Would Kyrie Irving express interest in re-signing with the Boston Celtics if Hayward chose a different team, or were Al Horford’s harmonious style, stable ownership, and Brad Stevens’ genius already enough? If not, the Celtics would likely be in the middle of the Eastern Conference with Marcus Smart starting at point guard and Terry Rozier playing 30 minutes a night. They’d disintegrate when Horford hit the bench, and any long-term injury that’d keep him out would be fatal. Also, Jae Crowder would still be around, likely clogging a pipeline that’s seen Jayson Tatum and Jaylen Brown flourish.

C. Paul George is traded to the Boston Celtics

3. So, Who Isn’t Shooting Threes?

Photo by Shanna Lockwood – USA TODAY Sports

Let’s go back to this year’s group, which reads like an endangered species list. How many players on there are useful despite their inability/unwillingness to shoot threes? If we first look at total minutes played, Ben Simmons unsurprisingly ranks first and is a revelatory prospect who’s simultaneously defying convention while meeting his expectations. From there we’re infested by a crap ton of traditional big men who impact the game in other areas. They rebound, protect the rim, and set screens. Some space the floor by diving through the paint. Some are still dangerous at the elbow, and can engineer decent offense with their vision and a mid-range jump shot. A very small handful do damage with their back to the basket.

4. Houston’s Angles are Ridiculous

Speaking of the Rockets, I’ve thought about this pass almost every day since it happened:

But Houston’s offense doesn’t peak when the ball is dribbled. Jaw-dropping, spontaneous passes made at angles very few players can even dream about allow the Rockets to generate efficient shots that catch defenses off balance. The surgical precision seen above is not attainable for most guards around the league, but it’s basically second nature for Paul and Harden. Quick sidebar: Harden is probably going to win his first MVP this season, but not enough words can be written about Paul, who’s re-asserted himself as the second-best floor general in basketball and an automatic All-NBA member. Passes like that one help explain why.

5. J.J. Redick’s Game Isn’t Supposed to Expand, but it Has

Instead of seeing his responsibilities narrow, Redick’s doing more stuff in different ways. According to Synergy Sports, the percentage of all his jumpers that were off the dribble last season was 39 percent. Right now, that number is 47 percent, somewhat-expected uptick that’s lowered his accuracy and can partially be attributed to greener teammates.

The ball feels like it’s in his hands far more than it was in Los Angeles. Instead of running through an endless maze of bodies, Redick’s slicing defenses open with direct hand-offs and a bit more pick-and-roll action, all ultimately designed to turn the defense’s brain into toast.

All this is a pleasant surprise. I, personally, thought Redick was entering a different phase of his career after Joe Ingles crushed him in the playoffs. But in a new environment, as an elder statesman, Redick has shown that he’s far more than a shooter, in a league that should be able to make good use of his talent for years to come.

6. C.J. Miles and The Babies

Since O.G. Anunonby cracked Toronto’s starting lineup and Delon Wright dislocated his right shoulder (two events that basically happened at the same time, about a week before Thanksgiving), Raptors head coach Dwane Casey decided to hitch 30-year-old C.J. Miles to a bunch of children. Norm Powell (24 years old), Jakob Poeltl (22 and in need of a better nickname than “Austrian Hammer”), Fred VanVleet (23), and Pascal Siakam (23).

This is Toronto’s second-most common five-man group over the past month, and they’ve been absolutely dreadful on both ends. But guess what? I don’t care! Stubborn Casey is good sometimes. Yes, the Raptors should go back to a Lowry + Bench unit that makes opposing second units weep—swap Lowry in for Miles and that exact same supporting cast crushes everybody—but this makes me feel like Miles is a lovable babysitter that you can’t, in good conscience, stay mad at.

Playing Miles at the three as opposed to the four doesn’t make a ton of sense, but using him to space the floor for an inexperienced collection of players Toronto will need in the playoffs is fine enough for now.

7. Austin Rivers is an Isolation Genius…or Something

Photo by Kim Klement – USA TODAY Sports

Given that this is such an uncertain time for the Clippers, swapping Rivers out for a second-round pick and expiring money (he has a $12.6 million player option for next year) should be an objective for their front office. Maybe there’s a general manager out there who sees these numbers (particularly that impressive shooting) and wonders if Rivers can help his playoff team in a seven-game series.

8. Cleveland’s Juiciest Asset Is Not Really That Juicy

When teams start to really tank in March and April, the Nets will be busting their ass to win games and get better at everything they do. All this is bad news for the Cleveland Cavaliers. What was once their crown jewel for Kyrie Irving might now be Zach Collins (who’s actually playing pretty well, but that’s beside the point).

http://ift.tt/2o4xAdF

9. David Nwaba is a Good NBA Player

Every time I watch Nwaba he makes three to five effort-intensive plays that makes Chicago feel like a competitive team. He’s just so damn physical, a tenacious rebounder who defends, draws fouls, finishes around the rim, and never turns it over.The Bulls (yes, the Bulls) are outscoring opponents by 4.5 points per 100 possessions with Nwaba on the floor, performing like a 53-win team. He’s awesome, and aside from the fact that he doesn’t shoot threes and there won’t be a ton of money to go around this summer, one of the league’s 30 teams would be smart to offer present the restricted free agent with an offer sheet.

10. Finding Hope in Memphis

As someone who isn’t fast enough to scamper around the perimeter, Memphis has him drop defending almost every pick-and-roll. Here he is stepping up to force Abrines to pass to Jerami Grant, then sliding back and forcing a turnover.

But according to Cleaning the Glass, whenever he’s on the floor Memphis allows a ridiculous 11.3 fewer points per 100 possessions. (Opponents are also barely hitting threes when Davis is in the game, so, yeah, that’s kind of meaningful and has nothing to do with his defense.)

On the other end, he’s shooting 79 percent at the rim. That’s really good! And aside from the natural hiccup as he learns to read the floor, taking shots as a roller when he should hit the open man, there are examples of him identifying what he needs to do and executing immediately.

Before he even catches Ben McLemore’s pass out of Washington’s trap, Davis’ eyes are set on the opposite wing, initiating a sequence that leads to an open three and one of the most beautiful possessions Memphis has experienced all season.

He’s still a project, but one who only played 600 minutes in college and hardly saw the floor last season. Davis is shooting 72.7 percent whenever he rolls to the basket; the day Gasol leaves Memphis will be dark, but Davis is beginning to flash the talent of someone who deserves a chance to *attempt* to fill those humongous shoes.

The Outlet Pass: Charlotte’s Tailspin, Cavs Trade Targets, and NBA What-Ifs syndicated from http://ift.tt/2ug2Ns6

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flauntpage · 7 years

Text

The Outlet Pass: Charlotte's Tailspin, Cavs Trade Targets, and NBA What-Ifs

1. Can Charlotte Turn Things Around?

2. This Year’s NBA What-Ifs Are Pretty Great

Based on reports and rumors from various points throughout the offseason, here’s a semi-educated look at how things might look today had a few key moves gone down a bit differently.

A. Carmelo Anthony is traded to the Portland Trail Blazers

Photo by Joseph Weiser-USA TODAY Sports

Westbrook could also spend more time going Full Westbrook, even though Full Westbrook as we knew it last year might be a permanent thing of the past.

B. Gordon Hayward signs with the Miami Heat

C. Paul George is traded to the Boston Celtics

3. So, Who Isn’t Shooting Threes?

Photo by Shanna Lockwood - USA TODAY Sports

4. Houston’s Angles are Ridiculous

Speaking of the Rockets, I’ve thought about this pass almost every day since it happened:

5. J.J. Redick’s Game Isn’t Supposed to Expand, but it Has

6. C.J. Miles and The Babies

7. Austin Rivers is an Isolation Genius...or Something

Photo by Kim Klement - USA TODAY Sports

8. Cleveland’s Juiciest Asset Is Not Really That Juicy

9. David Nwaba is a Good NBA Player

10. Finding Hope in Memphis

The Outlet Pass: Charlotte's Tailspin, Cavs Trade Targets, and NBA What-Ifs published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

0 notes