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deliciousbasementtrash · 7 months

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Playing Nurse for the Batfam

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. On your way home from work, you encounter an injured superhero. You have seen his secret identity. Now what will he do about it?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x reader, (maybe a why choose with Dick Grayson as well?? Idk tell me what you guys want)

Warning: Adult language, verbal abuse, parental abuse, severe injuries

Word Count: 1.5k

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it

Part One: Is that Trash or a Man?

There is calm chaos when working in the emergency room. You get used to the cacophony of beeps and alarms. Of moans, crying, screaming, and arguing. You get used to being on your feet all day and moving from task to task, from patient to patient. You get used to it because there is no other option. People need care and they need it now. You either step the fuck up or switch to a different unit. Or move to a calmer, cleaner, less crime-filled city. Calm wasn’t really my vibe. Maybe externally that’s what I portrayed, but internally my mind craves the chaos of the ER. It craves the chaos of Gotham. And the Gotham ER was an entirely different beast.

I finished nursing school about a year ago. A lot of my peers used it as an out. They went to more stable cities in New Jersey that had better funding and less chance of getting knifed in the staff parking lot. I was one of the only ones that stayed. I definitely was the only one that worked in the hospital. I couldn’t deny the demand for nurses was high, and the paychecks were even higher at Gotham General Hospital. And maybe some small pathetic part of my brain wanted to make the world a better place. I wanted Gotham to be a better place. Every day I worked. I convinced myself that how matter how shitty it got; I was making a difference. Even if it was only a handful of people in the grand scheme of things.

I could convince myself that I mattered. That everyone mattered. That these people deserve more. They deserve better; they deserve a second, third, fourth, fifth chance. If I stopped trying to convince myself of that I know I would give up entirely. Seeing gunshot wounds, stabbings, overdoses, mutilations, burns, crushings, poisonings, beatings, day after day is a lot like erosion of the soul. Little by little it wears you down. You become jaded and jagged with time. Empathy becomes blame. Hope becomes desolate. Love becomes anger. The only thing you can do is gaslight yourself into thinking you’re making a big enough difference. That you’re helping enough people. After all, the brain can’t tell the difference between truth and irony. You tell yourself so many lies, you can start to believe them, right?

Gotham City: 16 Years Ago

“Dad, when is mom coming home?” My small voice asked. I was scared to make Dad yell at me again. I didn’t like it when I made him yell.

“She’s got stage four fucking cancer she is coming out of the hospital in a body bag, y/n.”

I fought the tears that burned behind my eyes. Dad would get even angrier if he saw them. It was stupid of me to even ask.

I felt him turn to me. His eyes bored into my skull. Quickly, I looked down at his feet.

“Have you tried again?” He asked. His tone clipped. I knew he expected a timely answer.

Involuntarily, my fingers ruthlessly picked the skin around my nails. The sting was grounding in a way.

“No, sir. Well yes, I have tried, but I… I failed,” the last word felt like a hot poker being placed through my throat.

“Look at me.” Breathing became difficult, but I looked up at my father. He leaned his face close to mine. I could smell Jack wafting off him. “What good are you? What good is having healing powers if you can’t heal your sick mother?”

The simple hangnail became a chunk of missing skin. I lowered my head. Fighting back tears.

“Sir,” my traitorous voice wobbled as I tried not to cry, “I keep trying but… I don’t think my power is that strong. I can close cuts, fix broken bones, but tumors are… hard.”

My father tilted his head back and laughed. Hard. He grabbed my wrist as quickly as a viper, “If I could put your mother’s cancer in you I would. You’re about as useful as a wet match in a dark cave.”

I couldn’t help the tears that fell down my cheek. It felt like I was involuntarily waving a white flag.

Gotham City: Present Day

I had to be stealthy with my gift. I couldn’t heal every one of the patients to full health right away. That would lead to suspicion. But if I could help it I could stop the major damage. I would heal internal organs. Replenish blood. Reduce ten fractures to two or one. It all depended on timing and if people were watching me.

I was walking home from the hospital. I only lived about three blocks away. I got off shift at around 20:49. I didn’t start my next stretch for another three days. And I was milking my walk home. Stopping to smell the roses or whatever. That is normally not a very smart thing to do in Gotham at night, especially as a woman. But part of me didn’t care.

Earlier, I looked at my phone and frowned when I realized the date.

Thursday, May 19th.

My mom died 16 years ago today. Waves of emotion flooded my senses. Anger at myself for not remembering. Sadness that she had been gone more of my life than she had been in it. Restlessness for what my father might do or say. Some years he likes to reach out. Others he doesn’t. But most of all I was feeling reckless. Like I wanted someone to give me a reason. Obviously, I would only hurt someone to defend myself or others. But there was so much anger living in my body, part of me hoped some idiot would try something with me tonight.

So, I walked home. Slowly.

Normally, you keep your head down and you keep moving. You don’t look or gawk. You listen out of necessity. I was listening just because I could. It was the normal stuff. Men smoking cigarettes and catcalling. Women were offering their nightly services. Random people either praising or damning superheroes. Drug deals. Graffiti artists. Fights. And of course, people who simply were walking home from work. Gotham had range and was never boring that’s for sure.

But something picked up on the very edge of my senses. Despite my better logic, I turned toward the very quiet sound. It could have just been rats, but it sounded so familiar. It sounded like a death rattle. The thing you hear just before shit hits the fan and the patient codes.

Without thinking I ran down the alley toward the sound. At first, it was nothing. Just trash and rats. But then I saw it. He almost blended perfectly in with the shiny black garbage bags. His cape was the same color but reflected the light less.

“Sir? Sir, are you alright?” I walked hesitantly forward, grabbing my pepper spray just in case.

The man did not answer, he only garbled and coughed. My work brain took over my fear. Instantly I rolled the man over and began assessing him. I suppressed a gasp when I rolled him over and a familiar cowl mask came into view. It was cracked down the middle. His face was bleeding from an unknown location. His breathing was labored and staggered.

Calmly, I closed my eyes and pressed my hands against his chest.

Oh yeah. Batman was dying. He had several broken ribs. A pneumothorax. A bruised liver, kidney, and pancreas. His cardiac output was a joke. The man had no perfusion.

I didn’t think. I didn’t hold back like I do at the hospital. I just healed. And healed. And healed. I healed him down to his bone-on-bone knees, sprained ankle, and fractured wrist.

God, this guy had a lot of injuries.

I was close to passing out by the time I was done. I had done too much, ate, and slept too little. My powers were demanding when it came to energy. If I didn’t eat or sleep within 30 minutes I was about to pass out next to bat boy himself.

I gave him one last assessment. After double-checking that he would live and that I didn’t miss anything I finally looked at his face again.

This time I gasped. Batman was the billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne? I shook my head like I was clearing cobwebs. I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Much like Batman, I didn’t want people to know what I could do. The last time people knew…

Just as I turned and took a few steps I rolled my eyes at my nagging thoughts.

What if someone sees him before he wakes up?

Reaching into my tote bag I pulled out a black medical mask. I not so gracefully MacGyvered it across his exposed face so that it was covered. And with that, I made my way home.

My cat, Hashbrown, eagerly greeted me at the door. I nearly fell asleep locking it. I bent down to pick her up and gave her a kiss on her perfect little cat head. I ripped my gross work scrubs off, threw them in the wash, and crashed on the couch in my underwear before my brain could process what happened.

I healed Batman.

I healed… Bruce Wayne?

Part Two, Part Three

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thesuperiorrobin · 1 year

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I literally love the “crazy idea, let’s make out” it it very good!!! It is supper good!! Can I request the bat boys type? Thank you for your time! Please take care!

IM SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT. I had to read other peoples make out scene bc I honestly did not know how to write one. I think I did an okay job tho😭

Writing for Dick is so effing hard for some reason

Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson

I whole heartily believe he likes taller women. No doubt about it

But if you’re bit on the shorter side that’s fine too.

I feel like he wants someone who’s independent and doesn’t rely on others

Someone who wouldn’t mind him being away from days to months at a time because of work and all .

Wants someone who matches his energy.

For like a thirty something year old he does have a lot of energy.

He wants someone who can take a joke and doesn’t take it the wrong way. He wants someone to laugh with him and not get mad.

Definitely wants someone who’s laid back but not to laid back where it becomes a problem.

100% wants someone to cry with him when he watches a very sad drama.

I think it’s cannon that he’s on the more talkative side?

Idk but if he is he wants someone can he can talk with—hours on end and the conversation never get boring.

Would 100% date a superhero

Jason todd

Jason like chubby girls. 100% you can’t change my mind about it

I also feel like he has a thing for strong women too.

When It comes to Jason I think he has two types.

The first time is obviously the strong type

Someone he doesn’t take shit from know one

Is really just a badass person In general

Or type 2

Someone who’s really soft spoken

Someone who’s quiet but not to quiet where they don’t even bother to communicate. Like a shy person.

Said person who’s also very caring and kind.

Jason definitely wants someone who shares the same interests. Not all of them but the small ones like reading.

Headcannon: Jason prefers the book copies instead of the online ones. He likes the smell of new books fight me.

Jason also wants someone who deals with his shit better then he does honestly

This man has been through a lot no doubt about.

And he’s not great when he has to deal with his problems that are emotionally and mentally.

So someone who can help him and guide him (even if he does deny it at first) trust he will be grateful for it

He would not date someone who’s a hero or vigilante.

He tried but failed

Tim Drake

Definitely likes shorter women

I mean mans only like 5’4? “5’4?

So technically he’s tall but not that tall like the others 💀

He’s good at technology and really wants someone who’s interested in his hobbies. Most people don’t find them interesting. (But I mean cmon if he was able to tell the world he hacks things to get information on them for Batman—then that has them sold, but he can’t)

He gives me bad girl x Nerd boy vibe 😔

I’m kidding no I’m not

I feel like he would want someone who’s more on the quiet side and someone who’s willing able to lay down next to him for a long periods of time bc we all know this man can sleep anywhere at anytime if he felt like it.

So having someone who can just lay there while he sleeps are pointers.

This isn’t a preference but he 100% needs someone who can take care of him.

Because him not sleeping for long periods of time results in him not eating and only serving off coffee. Not good for him.

Tim seems like the kind to date someone who’s a superhero or whatever.

That way they can be closer.

Damian Wayne

Damian doesn’t have a preference.

I Don’t think he would care if your short, tall, Skinny or chubby.

Like Jason I also think he has two types.

The first type would someone who’s very mysterious. He likes that.

Someone who’s mature and calm during rough times or situations.

Like Dick, someone who is very independent.

Second type is quiet literately the opposite of what his personality is

Someone who’s kind and warm to others.

Bubbly kind of personality.

He doesn’t want someone who talks to much.

Like at all.

he wants someone who shares the same interest as him—Y’know fighting for animal right and what not.

Not a preference but I think Damian needs someone who can help him with the reality of the world and stuff

Because I believe Damian does not know how to act like a kid his age until he meets his partner who show him.

Would not date anyone who’s in the superhero gig.

Like at all. He hates the idea

He would rather date a civilian. They are less likely to get killed during a mission.

Writing for them is so much fun I might do more headcannons about them 😭🤚

#damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #batman x fem!reader #robin x reader #batfamily #damian x reader #batfamily x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian scenarios #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #tim drake x reader #tim drake #dick grayson x reader

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phantom-dc · 11 months

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Dad Hood - part 13

‘And this is the bat-computer!’

Tim was showing his friends around. He was being supervised by Dick so he didn’t get overzealous and show stuff he wasn’t supposed to, and Danny and Jason tagged along as well. Danny had been eager to see the creepy lair. Superboy, Wondergirl and Impulse were also impressed.

‘This is so cool!’

‘How is this place so big?’

‘Is that a dinosaur?’

Batman was annoyed. He was still on the Bat-computer, trying to find Joker when the group had entered. Now his concentration was being challenged. But he had promised Tim a month ago that he could show them around, so he couldn’t say no. Not as long as it seemed that Joker still hiding and not making any moves. Meanwhile, Danny was getting curious over Tim’s friends. Did everyone in Gotham dress in weird outfits?

‘Are you all like my family? Everyone dresses so weird!’

Impulse puffs up his chest, eager to impress the little man.

‘Yep! We are all super heroes! We even have powers, unlike the Bats here!’

Danny looks confused. He thought that his Daddy was a grave digger, not a superhero. This was way cooler! This takes the group by surprise. Why would Danny think that Jason was a grave digger?

‘Uncle Dick told me daddy puts bad people in the ground! I thought it was really nice that he makes graves for bad people. Everyone likes to have them. Then your friends can leave you gifts! I wish I had a grave, then I could get gifts too!’

The group gets uncomfortable. As Jason laughs it off, he gets a weird feeling. Handing Danny over to Dick, he takes out his notebook. He looks at Danny. He looks at Bruce still doing research. Then he looks back at Danny. And lastly at the notebook filled with powers. Telling Dick to get Danny upstairs, he grabbed Superboy by the collar and dragged him of.

‘Kon, with me. NOW!’

Superboy was confused, letting Jason drag him to the Bat-computer. As they reached Bruce, Jason took a deep breath.

‘Hey, B! I was thinking, with how badly this investigation is going maybe we could ask for a bit of help? Now that Tim’s buddies are here anyway?’

Bruce sighed. He usually didn’t want other supers operating in his city, but Jason was right. Perhaps Superboy could find something he missed with his X-ray vision, or hear something he couldn’t. After Bruce showed Kon the location Dick last saw the Joker on a map, Kon took off. Tim was looking at Jason, suspicious at his nervous behavior. Taking Jason apart, he asked Jason why he was acting weird, which Jason denied.

‘Weird? Me? No no. I’m just… nervous. I don’t like having that clown on the loose, especially now that I have a son! I don’t think that is weird at all! It would be weirder if I wasn’t nervous!’

Before Tim can interrogate him further, Kon comes back. He too looks very nervous. Bruce approaches him, telling him to report.

‘Yeah, so… uhm… He’s… underground?’

Bruce was getting frustrated. He asked Kon to elaborate. Is he in a tunnel? An underground hide-out? He needed details!

‘Well… no. He’s… stuck. Like, in the ground. It’s almost like he phase-shifted like Martian Manhunter, but got stuck halfway. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

The group was shocked. How could that happen? Bruce feared the answer on his next question:

‘Is he…’

‘Oh, he’s very dead. I don’t know if it was because he was unable to breathe, or because literally every inch of his body is filled with soil. He must’ve died almost instantaneous.’

As Bruce was processing the information, the group heard a loud bonk. Jason had fainted for the second time in 3 days.

The next day, the whole family had gone to the mall. Alfred had ordered it as a distraction from the revelation of the day before.

‘Jason, you can’t say this is my fault!’

‘I. Blame. You.’

Jason and Dick were arguing quietly. They couldn’t let the others hear them, especially now that they were in public. After Tim’s friends had left, Bruce contacted Martian Manhunter to remove the body. He had been on Mars and couldn’t be there for at least a month, but it wasn’t like the body was going anywhere. So to take his mind of things, Alfred had ordered Bruce to take his kids out shopping. Now that Jason was awake Bruce could take him and Danny on a shopping spree, and Danny was delighted at the amount of toys they had already collected. This had done nothing to ease Jason’s nerves, though, and he was taking it out on Dick.

‘Look, how was I supposed to know Danny could phase-shift? It wasn’t in the notebook!’

‘Yeah, the book you didn’t read! And you wouldn’t have had to know if you had watched Danny like you were supposed to!’

Dick shushed Jason before he got too loud. The family still didn’t know that Danny was at the scene of Joker’s death, nor that Danny was a meta. Jason made it very clear he didn’t want Bruce to know about Danny’s affinity with the Lazarus Pit.

‘And for god’s sake, why did you tell him that I ‘put bad people in the ground’? Why on earth would you say that to a kid? What were you thinking?’

‘Look, Jason, I was so tired! I couldn’t think straight!’

‘Yeah, obviously you didn’t! I mean, what-’

Tim decided to cut the brothers off. They were getting loud, and if they stayed back much longer Cass might pick up on their argument. They were lucky she was distracted with Danny for as long as she had been.

‘Keep it down, you guys are going to alert the whole shopping mall! What’s done is done. What matters now is how we’re going to hide this from Bruce?’

‘Hide what?’

Suddenly Bruce appeared behind them. He was wearing a disguise, as he didn’t want the media hounding them. So far it had worked, and he had gotten Danny half a toy store worth of stuff. Looking behind Bruce, Jason could see Duke carrying a bag full of stuffed animals and Steph was holding so many Justice League toys they nearly fell out her hands. Cass was holding a box with an action figure of every member of the Bat family and the Justice League and a very expensive Make-your-own-hero set. It had been Cass’s suggestion, since the Red Hood didn’t have an action figure, with him being a drug-lord and all. This way they could make Danny a figure of his dad to play with.

‘Hide the… bottle of champagne Jason bought to celebrate. You know he hated the Joker, but we thought it was inappropriate to party in front of you. Sorry about that.’

Tim was one of the few that could lie successfully to Bruce. Jason was very happy that he didn’t rat them out. Hopefully they could keep this hidden a bit longer.

First - Previous - Next - AO3

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #dp x dc #red hood #batman #jason todd #dad jason #dad hood

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hanluex · 7 months

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Hi! I loved the fic you posted about Jason today, it's so purely sweet 😍 Jason Todd has been may kind of secret fictional crush since I watched Titans and having someone writing for him is a amazing! I saw you were asking for some fic ideas for our fave bird boy, so here I am!

Maybe a little story in which he cames bleeding after a fight to the tower and fem!reader (maybe she can be a superhero with healing powers) takes care of his wounds?

Jason half-joking teases her saying that it's actually comfortable to have her so close wanting to help him and this later leads to a fluffy confession

Lots of love <3<3<3

♡ I PROMISE — JASON TODD

jason x fem!reader | wc : 0.7k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, friends to lovers (?), mentions of injuries, use of petnames, crying | loki's lines — ahh, i was super excited upon receiving this! thank you, anonie! i love you loads! stay safe and take care <3

“y/n … it’s me.”

your brows furrowed as soon as you heard the familiar voice, feeling your heart beating in your throat.

it was almost like clockwork at this point; jason getting hurt because of his recklessness when he’s fighting crime and returning to the tower so he can get his wounds treated by you.

after all, your healing powers came in handy, especially at times like this.

you took a deep breath, walking towards your door. just like you had expected, jason todd leant against the doorframe, forcing a smile upon seeing you.

your eyes scanned his appearance, gritting your teeth as you saw the various wounds scattered all over his body.

his outfit was in tatters and soaked in his own blood, showing exactly how much he had gone through during the fight.

yet he stood before you, a smile on his face, because he knew you’d heal him back to health — just like the other hundred times you’ve done so

“gosh, sweetheart!" jason exclaimed, smirking. “at least invite me inside before checking me out.”

you turned on your heel, walking to your bed and sitting on the edge, waiting for the brunet to take his seat in front of you.

the lack of speech from your end didn’t spark any attention from jason, who was kind of used to you being quieter than quiet on some days.

without another word, you gently lifted his arm, using your free hand to channel your energy onto his wounds, slowly working on healing him.

“i’m honestly glad you are here, just willing to help me,” he confessed. “like my very own personal nurse, in a sense,” he joked, chuckling lightly.

you nodded in a daze. “yeah,” you muttered quietly, your hands shaking as you tried to heal his wounds.

why does it always have to be like this? why does he depend on me so much?

you couldn’t help but let the thoughts wander through your mind, your breaths getting uneven as you struggled to focus on your healing energy due to your emotions going haywire.

“… so yeah, that’s pretty much what—" jason paused, realizing you weren’t paying attention to his words. “princess? you alright?”

“mhm.” you nodded, raising your hand to work on the wounds on his face. “i’m fine.”

but no matter how many times you repeated that phrase to yourself, upon seeing how scuffed jason’s face was, you struggled to hold back the tears that pooled in your eyes.

why would you do this to yourself? why would you let this happen?

the brunet noticed your glossy eyes, unable to get a word out before you burst into tears, burying your face in your hands as you sobbed.

“y/n? what happened?” he asked, gently pulling your hands away from your face. “sweetheart, talk to me.”

you stifled your cries as jason held your face. “i don’t like doing this. i don’t like seeing you get hurt so badly.” he softly wiped away your tears with his thumb.

“oh?” his voice was quiet, barely audible. “i can always ask dick or gar for help. i didn’t think i’d be troubling you.”

you shook your head. “it’s nothing like that, jason,” you denied, letting him know he misunderstood you.

“then why are you crying?”

“because i care about you!”

the brunet winced, surprised, as you raised your voice. he opened his mouth softly, unsure of the words he wanted to say. “but why?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

“because i like you, birdbrain,” you confessed, sniffling. “i like you so much that i hate seeing you hurt.”

jason only smiled to himself, warmly pulling you into his embrace. “i like you too,” he added. “i like you so much that i run back to you every time i get hurt just so i can see your face,” he admitted.

the only reason jason todd always had the energy to make it back to the tower, no matter how badly hurt he was, was because he knew you’d be there, waiting for him.

“you don’t have to get hurt to see my face, you know?” you frowned. “please, try not to get hurt, okay? promise me, yeah?”

jason todd smiled as he nodded, pulling you into his embrace once again before placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“i promise, sweetheart. i promise to take better care of myself, so you won’t have to see me hurt like that ever again.”

taglist : @maverick-wingman (to be added, please send a dm or ask!)

#[📝] works #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #titans jason #jason todd imagines #titans imagines #titans red hood #red hood imagines #red hood scenarios #red hood x reader #red hood drabbles #titans drabbles #jason todd scenarios #jason todd #titans tv show #titans scenarios #red hood

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chi-the-idiot · 3 months

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Hi im back on my DC shit. Listen I will never really get into the comics. But character analysis?? That I can get into.

If you had to make me choose between Superman and Batman, I would say Superman. I don't think its really tapped into in the comics or shows (they mostly potray him as powerful and kind and that's that), but I love the possible analysis of "which alter ego is the REAL Clark". As in, who represents his personality more. Is Clark really the shy reporter that hides behind glasses and a slouching posture? Or is he the extroverted and kindhearted Superman?

My answer, in this case, would be both. Superman allows him to be more outgoing, show his strenght in full and all sides of his personality. Clark Kent is also himself, a more shy and insecure human side, that still retains the heart of gold that his superhero self has.

But I will never deny that Batman, as an analysis subject, is magnificently complex.

Because Bruce Wayne is a broken boy living in the adult body of a man. He lost his parents in a horrific accident, right in front of his very eyes, and never recovered. He had Alfred, of course, and he became a father figure too, but you don't just move on from that. And his answer was to avoid that pain through dedicating himself to fight crime. He left everything aside to become the protector of the city, completely neglecting to adress the emotional wreck he was after the tragedy.

And so, Bruce Wayne didn't only hide his pain through one mask, but two: the playboy, his public side that has no issues at all, that is vain and searches for pleasure and profit only; and Batman, the stoic dark knight of gotham, who keeps everybody at arms lenght in distrust.

Thus, Bruce Wayne the human being, the one who is emotionally broken, remains in the shadows of these two figures, and only sees the light of day with a select few. After all, Bruce has the BatFamily. It isnt only his protective instinct, its his inner self thoroughly relating with those kids and wanting to protect them from what happened to himself.

EDIT OF A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER: A SPECKLE OF ANGST FOR YALL BECAUSE HOLY SHIT IMAGINE HOW BRUCE FELT AFTER WHAT HAPPENED TO JASON

AND THEN A FEW YEARS LATER HE SEES HIM AGAIN AND REALIZES THAT NOT ONLY COULD HE NOT PROTECT HIM, BUT HE BECAME EXACTLY HOW BRUCE IS TODAY

Im so sorry, im gonna go cry, and I will never forget what the Batman fans of way back when did to that poor Robin ( ;_;)

#clark kent #bruce wayne #clark kent x bruce wayne #superbat #superman #batman #tagging this as superbat because in this house we love narrative foils #two kids who lost everything and found it again #yet one came out healed and the other ended up destroyed like a thousand shards of glass

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aalghul · 28 days

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Nice post about Roy I like how kind your response was. But yeah as a Roy fan I find the idea that he would hate anyone but the man who killed his daughter to be silly. Cause like thing is Roy has a line till he doesn’t. Like you said Roy draws a line for himself with Cheshire but he never ever 100 percent commits. Even after the bombing and her holding a gun to Lian and threatening to shoot her while trying to escape prison, in his time with the League he still is hinted to love her and still lets Lian visit her. Flash forward to now they are still on again off again lovers/enemies. The old Titans ‘Roy breaks up with Cheshire’ story was written like it was the full end of their relationship but DC loves that concept and in comics they will always come back.

With Mia or people hurting his family Roy would not care at the end of the day unless that family member died sorry. Roy forgave a woman who babysat Lian and helped terrorists kidnap her and then broke his leg in an attempt to kill Cheshire. No he didn’t just forgive her he offered to let her keep babysitting Lian saying he didn’t think he had the right to judge anyone.

People other than Roy say he belongs in the light but Roy kind of hates that about himself and actively denies and resists it because he thinks the dirty work is the real important work. He worked in fantasy superhero CIA for years and even killed for them, left and made the Outsiders, initially didn’t want to leave and basically stayed till the last second till his mental health gave in, joined the League and didn’t actually have a great time with the group or ever really believe he belonged, had a horrible ending with that group and became a straight up villain after the ROA fiasco and worked on a team of villains all of whom except Slade he expressed some sort of sympathy for.

Roy just doesn’t give up on people and kind of really wants to do antihero work and tries to again and again. The age/maturity thing kind of gets it but that only matters where you connect Roy and Jason, they are peers and work together in some fashion off screen for a year in Outsiders, put a ROA recovering villain Roy with really any post UTRH Jason save Morrison Jason and you could write an intergenerational friendship arc easy.

People forget but before 52 first started a lot of people wanted a Jason Roy book. It was floated around as an idea for ages and rumor was even Winick made a pitch but can’t confirm. When 52 was first announced a lot of people thought not only that RHATO made sense and only Kory didn’t belong but thought the comic had real potential. And really it might have since Roy and Cheshire at one point would not have made sense for either character and notably everything about their relationship happened off screen. We give things a pass because of how well the stories are written. I think most issues with comics are people moralizing about the characters and saying they would never do this or that when 9 times out of 10 the writer just shat over the execution of a concept and the writing as is was shit.

-- i’m just going to include my thoughts down here --

I agree with everything you said about Roy just not being the person who holds a lot of hatred for people. He comes off as strict and even angry sometimes, but at heart, he’s one of the most understanding characters.

I always took Roy’s failed attempts at being an anti-hero as proof that it’s not what he’s meant to do. He keeps trying because he sees his sympathy and desire to do more as a sign that he needs to get his hands dirtier, but each time leaves him with the realization that he can’t be doing that type of work. He was reluctant to leave the Outsiders because he didn’t want to abandon them, that’s why he does leave as soon as Ollie provides funding for them (which he also does specifically because he knows Roy wouldn’t leave, no matter how much he wanted to, otherwise). The Outsiders did end in Roy himself realizing he couldn’t stay there.

I think Roy has always worked best in the various Titans teams he’s been part of. Unfortunately, Teen Titans (2003) set a new status quo with enough of the original Titans leaving and the team working under the leadership of younger members even when more experienced Titans were present. So we could never really go back to the titans as they were in any of the iterations prior to that.

I don’t think Jason and Roy worked together for a whole year; it was just Jason reaching out to Dick, and then subsequently teaming up with him and Roy to give them information of Black Lightning. Which definitely worked to let Roy know the type of person that Jason is (i.e. not a villain), but it was also very much through Dick, so it would again be a reminder of the time that Jason, as a child, teamed up with Roy and the others. Roy’s affinity to taking a guiding role when he works with team members significantly younger than him is just such an important part of who he is that I can’t get past it. I don’t mean to say that Roy’s going to treat Jason like a child, but that there’s going to be a significant gap between their friendship as compared to the friendship that post-flashpoint gave them. Roy is just at a completely different stage from Jason, who is essentially just beginning to catch up on life as a teenager. That difference can’t be ignored easily.

I didn’t read comics back then (and was also a very little kid lol) so I didn’t know about that being something people wanted back then! It must be disappointing to see how it’s turned out.

At the end of the day, I personally think that Roy and Jason could work together very well short-term, and then it would have to end in them walking their separate ways because Roy can never stay in the dark too long, whether he admits it or not. I get what you’re saying about good execution making all the difference, though! I just want to stay as consistent to Roy’s character as possible, so Jason and Roy as best friends/a long-term anti-hero duo never quite works out.

#submited by #anonroyfan #and there is also the fact that a lot of roy's writing post lian's death was just. bad. lazy at many parts #i hope this is coherent bc there are a lot of words and i proof read none of them

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galaxymagitech · 28 days

Text

Graveyard

Written for Dick Grayson Anniversary Week: Day 4 Prompt: Batman's Most Trusted

@dickgraysonweek

Summary: No one comes to save a mourning Bruce from himself. Until, months after Tim would have stepped in, Dick notices Bruce's recklessness on a League Mission. He returns to Bruce's side to help him back into the light, but ends up following him into the darkness instead.

Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Jason the Narrative Ghost

Warnings: Referenced death of a family member, dissociation, discussions of suicidal thoughts in a non-POV character, brief mentions of rape (specifically, Felipe Garzonas’s crimes, not of any main characters). Mild gore? I don't think it's that bad, but it's slightly present.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Bruce had made it clear that he didn’t want to see Dick again, not after their confrontation over Jason’s death. But there was an emergency, and the Justice League had called for all available heroes to come and help beat back the robotic alien army. And Dick, well, of course he came. Normally he’d be leading his own team during a situation like this, but he was on break from the Titans and he didn’t want to mess with their leadership structure. Indecision in battle is dangerous, and if the Titans weren’t sure who to listen to…it wouldn’t be good. Clark had asked Dick if he was sure he wanted to join the main Leaguers—he knew that Dick and Bruce aren’t on best terms right now, even though he likely doesn’t know the details. But Bruce is professional and Dick should be able to keep his head in the game.

Should being the keyword. And yet he can’t stop watching as Bruce faces off against twelve robots, because something…something is wrong. His heart nearly leaps out of his chest as an energy beam misses Batman by an inch. Bruce should’ve dodged that. Easily. The man doesn’t try to split up his opponents, lead a group of them off to dispatch separately. No, he fights all of them at once. When a blow from one of their four arms strikes him in the stomach, Bruce doubles over. He grins, even as blood drips between his teeth, dribbling down his chin and into the snow.

Focus, Dick orders himself as he dodges an energy beam and rolls between one of the robot’s eight legs, scoring its underside with a batarang.

Batman spins, his cape a whirlwind as he pulls two more robots into the fight.

Dick watches an energy beam scorch Bruce’s arm, and suddenly it clicks. Bruce isn’t trying to keep himself safe.

This is all wrong.

---

Dick may have given his keys to Alfred—or, tossed them away in the Batcave where Alfred would find them, at least—but his Batcave access hasn’t been revoked. He had thought it might be, after the way he left, but he had other plans for if this didn’t work.

It’s 4 PM. Bruce should be upstairs in the Manor, but he’ll come down eventually. In the meantime, Dick has a case that he picked up in New York with potential ties to the League of Assassins. He needs to analyze a sample of poison, and the Batcomputer will be useful for that. Dick could probably call up Clark and get access to some Justice League equipment, but…the Batcomputer is probably best for the job.

It's a convenient excuse. Dick might not be allowed in the Manor, but Batman wouldn’t deny Nightwing access to the Batcave’s equipment, not when it could save lives.

This is going to be awkward as hell, if it doesn’t devolve into Round Two. But Dick can’t just stand by while Bruce gets himself killed.

Fuck. That’s what’s happening, isn’t it? He knows—he knows that Jason’s death hit all of them hard. Dick and Alfred, hell, the entire superhero community…but especially Bruce. He knows. But Dick never would’ve expected this. Not of Bruce.

When Dick climbs off his bike, he finds that the Batcave is not empty. In fact, Bruce is hunched over the Batcomputer, cowl off but uniform still on, the same burn marks from the fight still present. Bruce turns around at the sound of Dick’s footsteps, and Dick sees a bruise on the man’s jaw that wasn’t there before. He went on patrol, didn’t he? That reckless idiot. No patrol after League missions unless absolutely necessary, and Dick’s kept an eye on the news—it wasn’t necessary at all.

“Dick?” Bruce asks, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. His voice is hoarse from exhaustion and his eyes are glazed. Dick doesn’t think Bruce has slept in days.

Dick pulls the poison sample out from his pocket and holds it up. Instead of the nod of acknowledgement Dick was expecting, Bruce’s shoulders slump.

“You need access to the Batcomputer?”

“Yeah,” Dick says softly. “Have you slept in the last forty-eight hours?” Bruce grunts in the negative. Yeah, Dick thought so. “Seventy-two?” Another grunt. Dick steps closer. He can see the bags under his father’s eyes, the exhaustion evident in his normally military posture. “I’m worried about you, Bruce,” he admits.

Surprise flickers across Bruce’s face. “I’m…relatively uninjured.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Dick says. Bruce looks off to the side. Dick walks over to stand by the second chair by the Batcomputer, the one normally reserved for Robin, and hovers there, uncertain.

“You should…you should sit,” Bruce says gruffly. Dick sits. He thinks they both know that this means something. “What is the sample? Do you need help with it?”

This is definitely a distraction tactic, but the sample is important too, so Dick takes the vial out of the plastic bag he was keeping it in and places it in one of the machines attached to the Batcomputer. The two vigilantes fall into a practiced rhythm, cycling through tests and databases until Dick’s fairly certain that the poison is a paralytic that comes from a region close to a League base in the Amazon. He wants to keep working, find something else that they haven’t considered yet, just to keep this comfortable companionship with Bruce. He misses it so much. But he came here for a reason. “If you keep this up,” Dick says as he turns back from the hazardous waste chute, “you’re going to get yourself killed. And I’m worried that you don’t seem to care.”

“I’ve always been devoted to my work,” Bruce argues, even as he doesn’t outright deny the accusation.

“Not like this,” Dick says. He looks around the cave, the mess of files cluttering the medical cots, the dust on the giant penny, the number of windows open on the Batcomputer. “Not like this,” he repeats. “Bruce, you need to slow down and…and think. How many of those blows could you have dodged during that battle? How many of your injuries could you have healed if you stayed in the League infirmary for even an hour?”

“That’s not your concern, Nightwing.”

“It is! Bruce, I…” Dick feels his heart clench. “You’re going to get yourself killed. It’s…it’s terrifying. I know after…” He trails off. “I know after everything, it’s hard. I get it, okay? But this? You can’t do this.”

Bruce’s fists clench. “I’m taking all normal precautions. You don’t need to worry.”

“I think I do, Bruce. You’ve never been reckless like this before. I mean, what does Alfred think?”

“Alfred left,” Bruce says shortly.

What? “He’s coming back, right?”

“…I don’t know,” Bruce admits. He shifts uncomfortable. “Alfred…he said he couldn’t stay and watch this. So I asked him to take a vacation.”

“And he left? Just like that?” Alfred has dealt with a stubborn Bruce for far too long to just leave when commanded. There’s something that Bruce isn’t saying. And Bruce is perfectly capable of hiding things, so either this is something so bad that Bruce can’t hide it or, deep down, Bruce doesn’t want to hide it.

“There was a fight with Two-Face. It went badly. Alfred…had the same opinion that you do now.”

“Holy shit,” Dick says. “And you think you’re just fine and dandy?”

“I think,” Bruce says slowly, “that how I fight is my business.”

“Not if…not when you’re like this.”

“I’m fine.”

“Would you tell me if you weren’t?” Dick takes a deep breath and accesses the post-patrol reports, running a quick script. The list of injuries—far, far more extensive than it should be—prints out before his eyes. Dick’s stomach turns.

“You shouldn’t be looking at that,” Bruce says, almost apologetically.

“Then you shouldn’t get hurt,” Dick hisses. “What the hell, B? This isn’t…this isn’t recklessness.” He can’t bring himself to say the proper words. “This is deliberate.”

The air sits heavy in the Batcave. “I think you should go,” Bruce says.

“No.” Dick takes a deep breath. After seeing this…his breath catches as he stares at the list, and he forces himself to look away and face Bruce. Dick can’t leave. “I’m not leaving you alone. I shouldn’t have left you alone while you were grieving, but…I can’t. I can’t leave and come back to realize you’re dead. Don’t do this to me, Bruce.”

“I’m not—”

“Bruce, please.”

“Dick, you’re making—”

Yeah, Dick doesn’t want to hear how that sentence ends. “You clearly don’t care if you live or die.” Dick stands up. “Well, guess what, asshole? I care! I’m staying here where I can keep an eye on you and make sure I don’t wake up one day to the news of your corpse. And if you don’t want me to stay, then I’ll just live in the Batcave! And—and if you kick me out of here too, then I’ll follow you on patrol and fucking tranq you and take you to Clark. So what’ll it be?”

“Dick—”

Dick can feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He rarely cries anymore, but all he can think of is losing Bruce, so soon after he lost Jason. Dick can’t do that. He can’t lose another father, another family member. Not like this. “Jason wouldn’t want you to die, Jason would want you to live. And I need you to live. So I’m going to make damn well sure you do, no matter what you say!”

“Chum, I—”

Fuck, the tears are falling now. Dick wipes his eyes with his sleeve. “I don’t care if it’s selfish, you are not going to die. I won’t let you.”

Suddenly, Dick feels Bruce’s arms around him, pulling him close. Dick sinks into Bruce’s chest and slings his arms around Bruce’s waist. Bruce is alive. Dick will make sure he stays that way. He won’t lose him.

“If you’re willing to stay, I would…I would greatly appreciate it,” Bruce says. He doesn’t pull away. Dick clings close, afraid to let go.

---

On patrol, Nightwing sticks close to Batman’s side. It should be suffocating, but it’s better than the fear that freezes his lungs whenever the two vigilantes get separated. Dick leaps into fight after fight, brandishing escrima sticks and cracking jokes like it’s the only thing that’ll keep him afloat. Dick is painfully aware that if he can’t keep a light heart, then no one will. There is no Robin around to light the way. Nightwing will have to be enough.

It's hard, though, when Dick sees Jason on every rooftop and the Joker laughing in every shadow. It’s hard, when Dick realizes he hasn’t contacted his friends for two weeks—and none of them have contacted him. It’s hard, when Dick and Bruce trade nights of nightmares.

The first time Dick hears Bruce screaming at night, he throws himself out of bed, terrified that the Manor is under attack. But when he reaches Bruce’s door, he can hear the man crying and sobbing inside. This is wrong. Batman doesn’t have nightmares, Batman doesn’t cry out in his sleep. Dick hovers outside the door, uncertain, unwilling to cross that boundary.

Should he go in? When Dick was a child, he was always welcome after one of his own nightmares. But Dick is no longer a child, and Bruce having nightmares is completely uncharted territory.

Dick should leave. This isn’t his place. But he can’t bring himself to go back to sleep when he knows Bruce is suffering.

Slowly, he rests against the wall to Bruce’s room and slides down to the floor. He leans his head back, closes his eyes, and listens as every cry stabs at his heart. Eventually, it stops, and Dick drifts off until morning.

The next night, Dick dreams that he is sitting with Barbara in a small, quaint coffee shop. Outside the window, every adult is dressed as Batman and every child as Robin, but inside, Dick is just Dick and Barbara is just Barbara. “Don’t look at them,” Barbara says. “It doesn’t matter.”

And then she’s choking, doubled over with the Joker standing behind her, his bloody red lips twisted into a smile. His hand is buried in her back.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Joker grins. “I can just twist, and—oops!”

Barbara falls to the ground. “Dick, help me! Dick, please, I can’t move.”

Outside, all the children drop dead. The coffee shop is on fire.

“Why?” Dick asks the Joker.

The monster laughs and laughs and laughs, and with every second his face loses its pallor and his grin shifts into a grimace, until Dick finds himself staring at Bruce.

“No,” he tries to say, but it doesn’t come out. He stumbles, only to find his back pressed into a wall. “No, wait—”

Bruce plunges his hand into Dick’s chest. Dick can feel it close around his heart. “Jason is dead.”

All the dead Robins outside sit up and twist their heads at unnatural angles. Their Batmen pick them up and hold them, like an army of despair.

“Jason is dead,” Bruce repeats, and Dick knows it’s an accusation, but—

“It’s not my fault,” he insists.

“These are your colors,” Bruce says. Dick looks down. He’s wearing a yellow shirt and green tights, and Bruce’s hand is still clenched around his heart. “Yellow. And green. It’s only missing the red.” And then Bruce pulls.

Dick watches, frozen, as his father holds a bloody, pulsating heart in his hands.

“I would give this to Jason if I could,” Bruce says. “But it’s not enough.” His grimace twists even further. “You’re useless to me.” He tosses the heart to the side. Around them, the flames burn brighter and brighter.

Dick wakes up screaming, with Bruce at his side.

Immediately, he pushes himself up into a seated position, flicking on his lamp and breathing heavily as he tries to force the dream from his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce says. “I had to check. I heard you screaming. I had to check.”

And three years ago, Dick would’ve been angry. Would’ve ranted about invasions of privacy and paranoia. Instead, he slides off the edge of the bed, wraps his arms around Bruce, and lets his father hold him close. “I’m fine,” Dick says, wishing he believed it. “I’m fine. You’re fine. Everyone’s—” He chokes on the word. Jason.

“You’re alive,” Bruce whispers, as Dick buries his face in Bruce’s chest.

---

“Where were you?” Bruce asks as Dick pokes at his mac and cheese. They’ve been eating the most basic meals possible. Too much takeout and the papers will start to speculate. “I needed to consult with you on the Michaelson case.”

Dick sighs. This is why he moved out. Bruce does not need to know where he is at all times.

And yet, Dick gets it. Bruce didn’t keep track of Jason.

“I was looking for a job.”

Bruce’s brows furrow. “A job? Why?”

Dick rolls his eyes. Seriously? “A job. To earn money. You know, that thing that buys food?”

“I have plenty of money,” Bruce says, like he doesn’t see the problem there.

“I’m not mooching off of you,” Dick insists.

“It’s not…mooching. I’m happy to support you.”

Rich people. Seriously. “You don’t get it, B. I’ve got to get a job. Save up. Be independent.”

“You don’t need a job, Dick. Besides, you’re twenty-one. If you were in college, I would still be paying for everything.”

“Bruce.”

“Dick.”

“You don’t get it,” Dick says. He can feel his frustration rising. “I’m not going to be living with you or the Titans forever. You get that, right? This is temporary.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Bruce says, looking down at his plate.

Dick stands up. “Seriously, B?” He moved back into the Manor to help Bruce out of the funk he’s in, not to staypermanently. But Bruce doesn’t seem to have caught onto that.

“You can stay as long as you want.”

Dick is already sacrificing everything he built by staying here. And he’s willing to do it, he is, but Bruce doesn’t seem to realize just what Dick has lost. “I don’t want to stay forever. I have a life. I have friends. I don’t exist solely for your stupid fucking mission!”

Bruce stands up too. “Richard John Grayson!”

“Oh, the full name, huh?” Dick scoffs. “You’re not my father, Bruce. And if you want me to give a fuck about language, then get Alfred back. Oh, wait—you drove him away!”

“At least I know where Alfred is! When you run off, you don’t tell me where. And when Jason ran off, he got himself killed!”

“I’m not Jason!” Dick screams. “And I’m a grown adult, I don’t have to tell you anything! You don’t own me and you don’t own my life!”

“Then you don’t have any right to dictate how I live mine!”

“I have the right to make sure you fucking live!”

They’re both heaving for air, fists clenched as they stand over the dinner table. Suddenly, the guilt hits, filling Dick’s lungs. It all just ran away from him, the whole fight spiraling and spiraling and spiraling. Dick didn’t mean for it to go like this. And instead of storming out, like he normally does after a fight with Bruce, he just slumps over and stands there, head hung.

“I don’t want to fight,” Dick says, eventually.

“I…I don’t want to fight either, Dick.” Bruce looks so very tired.

“I didn’t mean it,” Dick whispers.

“I know,” Bruce says.

“I just want to help.”

Bruce pulls him close. “I know.”

---

“Bet you can’t keep up, B!” Dick shouts, diving off a skyscraper. He shoots his grappling hook before he jumps. Bruce does not.

The two race through the rooftops, Dick adding in unnecessary acrobatics and Bruce replicating them, though not quite as elegantly. In theory, they’re patrolling. In practice, it’s the closest they get to a game.

The last time Bruce and Dick raced across Gotham’s rooftops, Dick was fourteen. The next time Dick thought Batman was looking down and tried to start the chase, Bruce growled at him to focus. Dick didn’t stop trying for another year.

Dick tries to push the dismal thoughts from his head. What matters is the here and now. The thrill of the wind blowing through his hair, the swooping in his stomach as he falls, the laughter that spills past his lips. This is how Batman and Robin used to be.

Did Jason do this with Bruce too?

Dick mistimes his landing and stumbles, forcing himself into a sloppy roll. When he lands on his feet, his shoulder is aching. That’s going to bruise, and bad.

Bruce, in the middle of copying one of Dick’s flips, doesn’t notice. Dick forces a grin onto his face and rushes forwards.

As he somersaults over the gap between the next two buildings, he notices a man threatening a scrawny teenager with a knife in the alley below. “You go on ahead, B!” Dick shouts. “You could use the head start!”

He makes short work of the mugger and ties him up for the police.

“Wait,” the kid calls out as Dick turns to leave. Dick pauses. “Can I…can I report something?”

Dick shifts his body language, trying to make himself appear open. “Sure!” He says cheerily—but not overly cheerily, just enough to be encouraging.

“There’s this tunnel,” the kid explains. “Some of us—I mean, some of my friends—go there to paint. I mean, I don’t. But some guys I know do.” Their shoulders hunch defensively. Dick’s not buying it for a second, but Batman and Nightwing don’t hunt down graffiti artists. “These guys came along one day, wearing these weird masks, and said we all had to get out. So I—I mean, my friends left. But some people were like, ‘screw it,’ and stayed, and no one’s seen them in days.”

That certainly sounds concerning. “What sort of masks?”

“Like, clowns. Hey, do you think it’s the Joker?”

“Maybe,” Dick says. Probably. But the Joker’s still in Arkham right now, so what’s he playing at? “What else can you tell me?”

By the time he’s got all the information the kid has, Dick knows Bruce is far ahead of him. He races along the patrol route, not bothering to do any fancy acrobatics. A few minutes later, Dick hears the sound of grunts from yet another alleyway and sighs, dropping down to join the fray.

Except, it isn’t much of a fray at all. There are two men lying on the ground, unconscious, one of them bleeding, a tiny kid cowering a few feet away against a building, and Batman straddling a third man, pummeling him in the face.

Dick freezes, taking the scene in. One of the unconscious men has half his limbs bent at artificial angles. The other appears to be bleeding from the temple and has a batarang pinned through his hand (batarangs aren’t supposed to be that sharp). And the kid, the kid is shivering, his arms wrapped around his knees as he pushes himself into the corner between the building’s wall and a dumpster. He’s wearing a ragged red hoodie and his face is far too gaunt to be healthy. Homeless, probably.

Another grunt pulls Dick’s gaze toward the third man, who Bruce is taking an unusually long time to subdue. Or—that can’t be right, because he already seems to be unconscious, not even moving as Bruce strikes him again and again. “Batman?” Dick asks hesitantly, stepping forward. Bruce doesn’t respond. He aims another strike at the criminal’s face and Dick hears a distinct crack. “B, I think you got him,” Dick says, his voice shaking ever-so-slightly. Another grunt. Another strike. This is wrong. The man is already unconscious. They’re supposed to tie him up and leave, why is Bruce still attacking him? “B!” Dick orders. “That’s enough!”

But nothing seems to be getting through. Bruce grabs the man’s shirt collar and slams him against the ground. His head bounces off the pavement, and all Dick can think of is that Bruce is going to kill this man, if he’s not already dead. Dick rushes forward and shoves Bruce in the shoulder as hard as he can. Bruce reacts instinctively, throwing a wild fist that Dick easily ducks, but now Batman’s standing up, and he’s not hitting the man anymore, so it’s—it’s okay.

Bruce freezes. “Dick—”

No names in the field. No names in the field. That’s all Dick can think of. Bruce is the stickler for that rule, but even Dick only ever breaks it when on rooftops, far away from the action. But here, in an alleyway in the middle of Gotham, with a witness…

Bruce is compromised. Dick knew it already, but not like this. He pictures Bruce’s fists pummeling the criminal again and again and feels…sick.

“What the hell was that?” Dick accuses.

“I didn’t mean—I didn’t see you. I didn’t know it was you.”

Dick laughs harshly. That’s what Bruce is focusing on? “Forget about me, what about him?”

Bruce tilts his head to look at the criminal lying on the ground. He swallows.

Dick kneels down and checks for a pulse. He finds one, thank god. Faint, but present. “He’s alive,” Dick reports. “But you could have killed him.”

Bruce just stares. Dick takes out the encrypted burner phone all of them carry and dials 911. Bruce watches silently as Dick says that an ambulance is needed. Dick throws a disgusted look at Bruce. Clearly he’s not going to be any help, and there’s still a terrified street kid to deal with. Thankfully, the kid looks too out of it to have heard Dick’s name, but if he’s still there when the ambulance arrives, he’ll get taken by CPP. And Dick knows that kids in Gotham often have a very good reason to avoid social workers.

“Hey,” Dick says softly, kneeling down a few feet away from the kid. The boy just shakes even harder. “I’m Nightwing.” Normally, he tells kids in Gotham that he works with Batman. But with what the kid just saw…Dick doesn’t even know if that’ll help him right now. “I fight the bad guys,” he says instead. The kid shifts, but looks at him with blank, blue eyes. Black hair, blue eyes, red hoodie…around ten to twelve years old…he looks like Jason, in his early days at Wayne Manor. “Can you tell me your name?”

The sound of sirens fills the air and suddenly, like a marionette, the kid jumps to his feet and takes off running. Dick doesn’t follow him. If the kid had the presence of mind to run, he probably has somewhere to go.

“Cave,” Dick says, voice hard. “Now.”

---

In the cave, Dick paces. Motion has always helped him think. But here, it doesn’t seem to be enough. What can Dick possibly say? Bruce was always the one who held him back, until Dick accepted the no-kill rule as part of his identity. But if Dick hadn’t gotten there in time…

A sick feeling churns in his gut. Batman wasn’t stopping. Batman would’ve killed that man.

If Dick wasn’t here, Bruce would be a murderer.

Dick gags and just barely holds down his light dinner. This is wrong. It isn’t supposed to be like this. This isn’t who Bruce is.

But maybe, this is who Bruce is now.

“You almost killed someone,” Dick says quietly, stopping to face Bruce, who stands over by Jason’s display case with his cowl off. Dick hates that damn thing. A GOOD SOLDIER. Like Jason was a soldier who died in a war. Like he made a choice to serve. Like he wasn’t a child in over his head who should have been protected by his family.

“You stopped me in time.”

“What if I wasn’t there?” Dick asks. Dick was trying to help, but…Bruce seemed to be improving. Just an hour ago, they were racing through Gotham. Dick thought he heard Bruce chuckle. How did everything change so fast? Will Dick ever be able to trust that Bruce is improving?

“But you were,” Bruce says, his voice filled with some emotion that Dick is too tired to name.

Dick was there, but he can’t always be, can he? Not all the time. He was willing to save Bruce from himself. He didn’t know he’d have to save Gotham from Bruce.

Dick steps forward and raises a hand to the glass display case. He looks at the costume, so similar to his own old circus leotard. These aren’t the clothes Jason died in. They aren’t burnt and tattered and stained with blood. It seems wrong, to remember Jason like this. With shining glass and a clean costume and a plaque.

But Dick can’t say he knew Jason well enough to decide on the right way to remember him.

“The kid looked like Jason.” Dick says it like a question, even though it isn’t one. “That’s why you were so…” Violent? That’s the understatement of the century. Batman’s always been violent, but he’s also always been kind, and that kindness was nowhere to be found in that alleyway.

“Yes,” Bruce says, and his voice shakes. Dick wants to pull him close and hug him, but he doesn’t think it would be appreciated right now. Dick’s not even sure if he could stomach it. This is Bruce, his mentor, his second father in every way that matters, but…but he just almost beat a man to death. His gauntlets are still bloody. “They were going to…”

“I know,” Dick interrupts before Bruce can continue. He places a hesitant hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Bruce, Jason wouldn’t…Jason wouldn’t want this.”

Bruce goes stiff and takes a step back, forcing Dick’s hand away. “Don’t talk about what Jason would want,” he says, voice cold.

“He wouldn’t,” Dick says. He knows…he knows that this is a surefire way to start a fight, but he needs to get through to Bruce. He needs the real Bruce back. “Jason believed in Robin, believed in Batman. He would want you to be the man he…the man he believed in.”

Bruce shakes his head. “You have no idea.”

Dick steps forward. “Then tell me.”

“Jason killed Felipe Garzonas.” What? Dick cycles through cases in his head, but he wasn’t particularly involved in Gotham during Jason’s time as Robin. He doesn’t know who that is. “He said the man slipped. I wasn’t sure at the time. I wanted to believe him. But he didn’t even try to make the story convincing.”

Dick closes his eyes. “Jason,” he whispers.

“Garzonas had diplomatic immunity. Much like the Joker did shortly after Jason’s death. He...he was a rapist. He tormented a woman until she hung herself. And Jason went after him alone. I arrived to see Garzonas hit the ground, after falling from the top of a building with a railing.”

“He said he didn’t,” Dick protests weakly. “Jason wouldn’t.”

“Don’t pretend to know what Jason would or wouldn’t do.”

That’s fair, Dick supposes. He still…he still struggles to wrap his head around the idea of Jason killing, Jason who proclaimed Robin to be magic. And Bruce doesn’t know for sure. But whether Jason pushed Garzonas or not, that doesn’t change what Dick saw in that alleyway. “You almost killed someone, Bruce. What would have happened if he hadn’t had a pulse?”

Bruce’s every muscle stills. “What would you have me do?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Bruce turns to face Dick, meeting his eyes. “If I had killed him, what would you say I do next?”

Why is Bruce asking Dick of all people? Batman doesn’t kill. (Neither does Robin.) It’s just how it is. Batman doesn’t. “Batman doesn’t kill,” Dick says. But that’s not an answer, is it? Bruce looks at him, like he’s waiting for more. This isn’t a situation Dick’s ever considered. He’s thought about what would happen if he failed. As Robin, he always figured Bruce would disown him, kick him out permanently and leave him to fend for himself. As Nightwing, he figured Bruce would put him to Arkham. “Batman doesn’t kill,” Dick repeats. “I don’t…what do you want me to say, Bruce?”

“Would you place me in Arkham?” Bruce asks. “I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t stop you.”

“No,” Dick says, before he can even think about it. Immediately, he wants to take it back. Of course he should put Batman in Arkham. If someone kills in Gotham, they’re a criminal, and if they wear a mask, they’re a Rogue. Bruce should berate him, tell him that Batman is no different, that if he kills, it’s Dick’s duty to stop him. But Bruce just watches Dick closely. Not like this is a test…like he genuinely wants to hear Dick’s answer. “I’d. I’d. I don’t know.” Maybe Bruce could throw Dick in Arkham. Probably could. But Dick doesn’t think he could do that to Bruce. “Batman doesn’t kill,” Dick repeats for a third time, clinging to it like a lifeline. He can feel tears welling up in his eyes. He turns around so that Bruce won’t see. “We don’t kill. It’s the first rule you taught me.”

“I know,” Bruce says quietly. “We don’t kill,” he agrees.

“I don’t think you should patrol right now.”

“Gotham needs me,” Bruce protests.

Dick turns around. “One week. I can handle Gotham for one week, and then you’ll be back out in the field. Okay?”

There’s a long silence, before Bruce eventually nods.

“Okay,” Dick says. “Pull yourself together, Grayson,” he mutters under his breath. It doesn’t help.

---

Fifty-six hours later, Dick wakes up from his third nightmare of the night. All he can see is Bruce’s body burnt and disfigured, bones clattering like a skeleton as he cries out again and again, “Why didn’t you save me?”Dick stumbles through the hallway, reaches Bruce’s door and, against his better instincts, opens it.

It doesn’t bring relief, though. All Dick can see are blankets, and that’s not enough. He shuffles over to the bed, wincing as the floorboards creak. And he can see Bruce, but his mind whispers insidiously. What if it’s an illusion? What if he’s not there? What if he’s dead? Tentatively, Dick raises a hand to touch Bruce’s face.

“Dick?” Bruce asks blearily, and Dick jumps back.

“I had to check,” Dick justifies.

“I’m here,” Bruce says. He raises a hand, slightly, letting it slip outside his blankets. Dick grabs the hand and holds it tight, fingers twisting around to feel Bruce’s heartbeat.

“You’re here,” Dick echoes.

---

On day four of Bruce’s forced break, the Joker, Killer Croc, and the Riddler break out of Arkham. Dick reluctantly admits that he needs help and tells Bruce that he’s back to being Batman.

“Are you sure, Dick?” Bruce asks quietly.

“I trust you,” Dick says. He doesn’t know if that’s a lie or not. Either way, it’s impossible to miss the flash of guilt on Bruce’s face. “We’ll stick together. No splitting off.”

Bruce nods. “Thank you, Dick.”

“Nothing to thank me for.”

Dick watches Bruce like a hawk. Although he hits perhaps a bit too hard, it’s nothing like the excessive violence Dick saw in that alleyway. Bruce is more reluctant to get hurt when Dick is watching, and Dick is sure to block the strikes that Bruce doesn’t avoid.

They finish patrol at 5:31 AM, battered and sore and exhausted, but Killer Croc has been returned to Arkham, and they have a lead on the Joker. That tunnel the graffiti kid mentioned may look clear now, but sooner or later, the Joker is liable to show up.

After one too many nightmares, they give up on boundaries. Dick humors Bruce’s first idea, which is to put cameras in their rooms to check on each other at night, but neither of them is satisfied that someone isn’t just looping the feed. When Dick finds himself checking on Bruce at four in the morning, Bruce mutters deliriously, “just stay, Dick.”

So Dick crawls next to him and falls asleep to the sound of Bruce’s heartbeat. He doesn’t have any more nightmares that night.

---

Donna calls. The Titans have been on another off-planet mission. She asks if Dick is coming back soon.

“I don’t know,” Dick says. “Bruce is…Bruce isn’t doing well.”

Dick can practically hear her purse her lips over the phone. Dick and Donna tell each other everything. “You’re living with him again?”

“Yeah,” Dick says. “Yeah, I…I am. Look, it’s really bad, Donna. I had to do something.”

“You don’t owe him anything.”

“I wanted to help him,” Dick says.

“Yeah,” Donna says. She sounds resigned. “Just…be careful, Dick. Please.”

“Always am.”

That’s a lie. They both know it.

---

The Joker returns to the tunnel that his henchmen set up. Along with him goes the Riddler.

Dick knows that with two villains, they’ll probably get split up. So when Bruce says that he’ll take the Joker and Dick will rescue the hostages playing one of the Riddler’s games, Dick holds out an escrima stick to stop him in his tracks.

“What?” Bruce growls.

“You get the hostages, B. I’ll deal with the Joker.”

“I don’t want you facing him alone.”

“Tough luck,” Dick says. Bruce may not be beating street-level thugs to near-death right now, but Dick doesn’t trust him against the Joker. Hell, Dick doesn’t even fully trust himself. “I can take care of myself.”

“Fine,” Bruce agrees reluctantly. Dick can see how difficult it is for the man, allowing Dick to face the Joker, and he’s grateful that Bruce manages to agree.

They split ways. Dick follows the tunnel, disarming booby traps until he finds the Joker perched atop a throne. Dick sighs.

“This ends here,” Dick says. “Whatever fucked-up scheme you concocted now, it’s over. I’d recommend you come quietly.” He bares his teeth. “Wouldn’t want to give me an excuse.”

The Joker doesn’t respond. Dick steps closer, wary of traps. Another step. Another step. Something’s off about the Joker. Something’s really off.

Another step. The Joker’s face has a waxy sheen.

Another step. That’s not just some bad makeup. That’s…

Dick spots the bomb strapped to the wax figure’s back.

“Fuck.”

His first instinct is to run, but a cave-in here could be disastrous. He tries to estimate the distance he travelled, and he guesses he’s right underneath the Narrows right now. And Dick does not trust Gotham tunnel inspectors.

Dick rushes forward. Two minutes on the clock. Only one bomb, as far as he can tell.

He makes quick work of it. A minute in, and the bomb’s disabled. Dick looks around. He must be missing something. A trap’s never just a trap, with the Joker. It’s never this easy.

Fear shoots through Dick. Of course. It’s not a trap for him. It’s a trap for Batman.

Dick takes off in the direction of the Riddler’s game, where he assumes the Joker will also be.

He arrives just in time to see the bullet hit.

Brain matter splatters all over his face, and Dick can’t breathe.

---

“Dick.”

Dick isn’t here. He isn’t. He isn’t here. Not here.

This is a nightmare.

Dick has had this nightmare before. He picks up a gun and shoots the Joker, and it feels good. Bruce picks up a gun and shoots himself. Bruce picks up a gun and shoots Jason. Bruce shoots the Joker. Bruce shoots the Joker. Bruce shoots the Joker.

“Batman doesn’t kill,” Dick whispers, but it’s a lie. It’s a fucking lie. Batman doesn’t kill, but Dick watched him shoot the Joker and he doesn’t even know how it happened. Just that the Joker’s head exploded and Bruce stared at him and then said, quietly, “I’m sorry, Dick,” and then everything went sort of fuzzy and—

His lips feel disconnected from his body. He wants to talk, to scream, to beg. To ask why. Why did Bruce do this? Bruce, who hates guns with his whole soul. Who sees the good in everyone. Who could never kill.

Was Dick just lying to himself this whole time? Pretending like he could help Bruce, like he was what Bruce needed, like he could stand in for the magic of Robin?

Cold water hits Dick’s face. It’s a decontamination shower. Why is he in a decontamination shower?

Blood runs out of his hair, flowing off his suit and swirling around the drain. Oh. That’s why.

The Joker is dead. Dick knows that, because Bruce checked for a pulse, face stony. Bruce killed the Joker. And Dick didn’t stop him.

Because Dick could have jumped in front of that bullet. There was a split-second, where he saw Bruce’s finger tense on the trigger. Where he knew what was going to happen. And he watched. He watched it happen.

The water turns off. Someone presses a towel into Dick’s hands. He just stares at it blankly, before sliding down to sit on the stone floor. He should change out of the Nightwing suit, probably. But it’s so difficult to even twitch one of his fingers. Bruce sits down a few feet away from him.

“You killed him,” Dick says eventually.

“Yes,” Bruce agrees. “I did.”

“Why?”

“He had a detonator. He was going to kill the hostages. And I didn’t know where you were—he might have. He might have killed you too.” Bruce wraps an arm around Dick’s shoulders. Dick feels empty inside. He should—he should feel revolted, shouldn’t he? This is a—this is a killer.

(But this is his father. This is Bruce.)

“You always find another way,” Dick says.

“I didn’t want to.” Bruce inhales deeply. “I’m sorry, Dick. I’m sorry that this happened. But I’m not sorry for what I did.”

Dick closes his eyes. He can smell blood, thick and metallic. Can practically taste it. But he also smells Bruce, and the unique scent of the Batcave, and—

How did it end up like this? Dick was supposed to help.

“I’m sorry,” he ends up whispering. “I failed you, Bruce. I’m so sorry.”

Bruce pulls him close. Dick can feel himself start to cry. He doesn’t deserve to cry. He’s just as responsible for this as Bruce. “You didn’t fail me,” Bruce promises.

“I did,” Dick mumbles. “I did, I failed you. I failed you.”

“Don’t say that,” Bruce tries to order, but Dick’s never been good at following orders. “You did not.”

Dick swallows. “You were always there to catch me and I…I let you fall.”

A hand runs through his hair. Dick lets himself rest against Bruce. They’re murderers, the both of them. Dick doesn’t want to pull away and find out what comes next. “Dick, look at me. Please.” Reluctantly, Dick opens his eyes to look up. “This is not your fault. This was my decision alone, and you couldn’t have…you couldn’t have stopped me.”

But Bruce doesn’t get it. It was his decision, but it was a decision Dick let him make. Dick knew Bruce shouldn’t be out in the field. He knew he shouldn’t split from Bruce when hunting down the Joker. He knew that Batman was violent and dangerous and unpredictable, but he couldn’t see past Bruce.

Dick still can’t see past Bruce. Because he should be fighting him and throwing him in containment, but he’s not, he’s not. He’s just letting Bruce hold him, comfort him, lie to him.

Suddenly, a horrible thought strikes Dick. It takes root in his stomach, and grows and grows and grows until he can’t ignore it. It makes too much sense. “This isn’t the first time,” Dick whispers, “is it?”

Bruce lowers his head. “No, Dick, it isn’t.”

Dick pushes himself away from Bruce and stands up. Bruce stays seated. “When?” He demands.

“Before you got here. I stopped caring. I only…I only realized he was dead after I left the scene. I went back, and there wasn’t any pulse. I didn’t mean to,” Bruce says, like that matters.

Dick doesn’t know what to say to that. “That’s why Alfred left, isn’t it?” Bruce nods. Dick tries to wipe the tears from his eyes. “I should take you to Arkham.”

“Okay,” Bruce says, resignation filling his voice.

“I need to stop you,” Dick says. “I—you’ve gone too far. You’ve broken all your own rules. I need to.”

Bruce just closes his eyes.

“Say something!” Dick shouts.

Bruce looks straight up at Dick. “I accept your judgement.”

“You’re supposed to fight me,” Dick screams. “You’re supposed to say you’re right, you’re supposed to tell me I’m wrong, you’re supposed to put me in a cell until I agree, you’re not supposed to just come quietly!”

“I’m not going to fight you.” Bruce swallows. “You’ve always been better than me, Dick.”

Dick laughs. “That’s why you let me come to the Manor, isn’t it? It’s not because you wanted me back. It’s because you wanted me to judge you! I was a fool for thinking I was welcome, wasn’t I?”

“No,” Bruce says. It’s finally something other than the quiet acceptance of before. Arguing feels right. “No, Dick. I…I wanted you to stay. It was selfish. I let you stay against my better judgement. I didn’t want you involved at all, to know about this. I wanted to spare you this burden. And I’m sorry that I couldn’t.”

Dick kneels down next to Bruce. “I don’t think I can put you in Arkham.” It’s true, and Dick hates himself for it.

“That’s okay, Dick,” Bruce says. “Should I turn myself in?”

Dick closes his eyes. “Don’t put this on me, Bruce. Don’t—don’t do that. Don’t make this my responsibility.”

“There’s always room for you in the League,” Bruce says softly. “You have Clark and Diana’s respect. And, of course, there’s Titans. If you can’t stay, if you can’t have any part in this, I understand.”

Dick shakes his head and settles so he’s leaning against the wall only inches away from Bruce. Bruce doesn’t reach out to him again. “I already have a part in this.”

“You don’t, Dick. I swear you don’t.”

“I should have been there,” Dick whispers. “I left you. I left you to grieve alone after Jason’s death. I knew I should’ve pushed. I knew I shouldn’t have left. I—”

“No,” Bruce says harshly. “No. I made you leave. You made the right decision. No one would blame you for leaving after that. The fact that—the fact that you came back at all is a miracle.”

And Dick can’t help himself. He reaches for Bruce’s wrist and twists his fingers around to feel the pulse. And it’s there, it’s there, strong. Alive.

“I understand, Dick, if you can’t follow me down this road. I understand if you need to stop me.”

“I can’t stop you,” Dick admits.

“That’s okay, Chum.”

Dick leans his head against Bruce’s shoulder. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Okay.”

“I know I should,” Dick says. Bruce doesn’t deny it. “I want to stay. I want you to live.”

“You will always be welcome here. Even if you decide you can’t be here anymore.”

“What would Jason think of us now?” Dick asks.

“I don’t know,” Bruce whispers.

Did Jason push Garzonas? Or did the rapist slip? Would Jason have approved of Bruce killing the Joker? Or would he see it as a betrayal?

Neither of them can ask him. Neither of them can turn back time, and neither of them can speak to the dead.

“What happens next?” Dick asks.

Bruce’s hand cards through Dick’s hair once more, slow and soothing. “We go on.”

#dick grayson #fanfiction #batman #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #dick grayson fanfiction #batfamily #batfam #dc comics #dc #dcu #fanfic

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yuwigqi · 5 months

Text

After Tim brings Bruce back, he absolutely loses his single-minded, universe-changing focus, and without that tunnel visions, he falls into a deep depression, and his family notices.

Tim initially stays in his apartment, and never visits, and Bruce comes to visit (he got back to life and his son, his miracle child who chose him, who saved him, had been absent. Bruce needed to see him) and its a disgusting. Not like a pigsty, its not messy. It's filthy. Bloody bandages from past wounds are left on the ground, staining the carpet. There is a gallon of milk on the counter, open and easily soured, smelling vile. There are black stains in the sink that might be blood, or moldy liquid poured down the drain haphazardly. Bruce finds Tim in the bedroom, in a bed covered in literal weeks worth of crumbs.

Bruce immediately wakes him up, whose face is raw red from shaving without cream or water, his lips are chapped, and his eyes are red and irritated. Bruce rushes Tim to the ER, wondering if he's sick.

Bruce brings Tim back to the manor (Tim is so indecisive and passive he barely even questions it).

Alfred immediately puts some soup and ice cream in him, and Tim starts walking a little faster, talking a little faster.

Dick and Jason checked out the apartment themselves and come home concerned, and decide to move back to the manor full-time for the time being.

Dick constantly stays within one room of Tim, watching movies and anime with him (and Damian if he can rope him into it), and sometimes Tim pays attention, but occasionally zones out for god knows how long until Dick notices and wakes him up.

Jason tries to cheer him up with exercise in the gym, blasting Tim's favorite songs. Tim smiles a little. Then, while doing some crunches, little red spots appear on Tim's shirt and Jason panics, and before Tim can resist Jason pulls up his shirt, there are clear self harm scars along his ribs. Jason cries and holds Tim and sobs into his hair, until Bruce walks in on the seen, his second son crying over his bleeding boy, and for a second thinks he's walked in on a death.

Alfred does a body check, and Tim doesn't bother to deny it. He doesn't seem embarrassed. He seems so...indifferent about everything lately.

They know anyone with bat training could escape a psychiatric hospital, so they set up a plan to never leave him alone.

Jason and Tim spend their time watching superhero fandom YouTube. Tim loved it as a kid, and its comfort content for him. Whenever content on Tim's Robin comes up, Tim gets spacey, until Jason begins to critically analyze, and complement his work. "God, that strategy was ingenious. You outsmarted The Brain. At age 11? Jesus Tim." Dick gets in on it too. "You beat Cheetah? Fast as Wally, can scratch Kryptonians, can go hand to hand with Diana? Has my little brother always been such a badass?"

Alfred basically demands Tim come cook with him. When he first started in the manor, he and Alfred spent time in the kitchen often, but he fell out of it after his mom died. Tim's no good at baking, but he's really good with meats. Alfred buys expensive cuts of meat, and Tim learns how to tell each cut and its grade. He can cook it better than chefs in their 50th year. Tim tries to back out if, saying why he should learn a "useless skill." Then Alfred has Tim cook steaks for the family, (Alfred takes care of Damian's dinner) and at Bruce's first complement, Tim feels the warmest he has since his last hug from Bart before he died.

Cass comes by. One look at Tim's posture and she's stuck to him like a hair on a biscuit. She was never good with computers, so she has him teach her the basics. It's a trap to lure Tim into geeking out over new tech and spend hours making his out programs. She's able to hack with the best of 'em now, and more importantly, Tim and her have taken an online game design class, and are building a fighting game together.

At first, everyone thinks Damian keeps his distance out of "disgust for Tim's weakness" (Tim's words, no one else's). Then Dick walks in on Damian wreck his room in a crying rage. Damian feels guilty. He blames himself for Tim's depression. Dick knows Damian won't understand his bullying was due to his own trauma he's been working through, so he tells Damian to use his skills to fix things. Damian draws Tim fanart of Red Robin, which Tim is indifferent to. Then Damian draws him fanart of Young Justice and Tim smiles brighter than Damian has ever seen.

Things are slow. There are huge ups, especially when Kon and Bart come back to life. There are huge downs, like every time they deal with Ra's, or whenever Tim gets sick from his splenectomy.

By the time Duke joins, Tim's smiley, wide-eyed and bubbly, just like he was when he was 12, bouncing along in Dick's shadow. Duke is so shocked when he walks into Tim's room to find recent self-harm scars. Duke has flashbacks to a photo he saw while going through his mom's social work files one day of a girl who killed herself, and cries and screams, and Tim has to calm him down. Tim comes clean about his struggles, and promises Duke doesn't need to save him. Duke spends weeks and weeks as Tim's shadow, interning with him at Wayne E., playing Starcraft with him, and hanging out with the YJ4.

Tim is still "depressed." He always has a few bad days a month. His antidepressants are a permanent addition.

But he has a devoted father, a doting grandfather, three protective older siblings, and two younger siblings who look up to him with the stars and their eyes.

He lives.

#Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Duke Thomas #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Cassandra Cain #Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Batman #Robin #DC #DC Comics #Red Robin #self harm cw #self harm tw

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jasonrae117 · 4 months

Text

Just Another Hollywood Scene

Just in time for the new year! Please enjoy the next installment!

Also on Ao3!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49727071/chapters/133334152

Chapter 3: New News

Damian was heading to Dick’s house to have what he called a celebration, but what seemed to really be a ‘I hope the media takes the news well’ support group. Most of the people that worked in the offices were going to be there so Damian really had no choice but to come.

The costume consult went pretty much as expected and like many of his other ones he’s done in the past. The superhero costume itself was slightly uncomfortable yet manageable and defined his physique. His only complaint was that it was the colors of a traffic light, a little more red and black heavy but yellow and green definitely made their appearances. The costumer, Rita Parr, who had a 1950s vibe told him it’s to reflect his background of being from a circus. Damian snorted, the fact that Dick used his own backstory to fuel this character was still very funny to him, especially when others don’t know it and think it's so absurdly original.

The craziest thing about this movie was that Dick was not only directing it, but he is the primary writer too. He didn’t want to come across as too bold and open his sure to be box office smash to criticism because an actor turned director could also write a script well. So he put it under a pseudonym. Damian was quite surprised when he found out, the script was well written, the characters all seemed grounded, and it was more than just an action movie. Dick had found a way to work a compelling romance amongst his characters too. That is why Damian would have begged his brother to be in the movie, of course he didn’t have to, Dick was all too eager to have Damian be a part of it, but Damian would have begged if it came to that.

When Damian’s town car pulled up to Dick’s small mansion, he could already see the cars of about seven others, and by some of the specific vehicles he knew that the majority of the production team leaders were here. And sure enough when Alfred, his family’s butler that Bruce requested help host Dick’s gathering, opened the door, he could already hear some of their voices.

“Welcome Master Damian. Wonderful that you could make it this evening.” The gentle older man stepped to the side, gesturing for Damian to enter.

“Good evening Alfred. I’m afraid I wasn’t allowed to RSVP no to this event.’

“Well, nevertheless, I have brought your favorite bourbon to help you settle in better. Master Grayson is in the theatre room with some of the others. He requested I direct you there upon your arrival.” Alfred walked along beside him.

“Great, already jumping into work talk. I’ll take a double of that bourbon when you get the chance.” Damian shrugged off his coat and put it in the coat closet, politely denying Alfred’s assistance.

Approaching the theatre room, he could already hear the familiar voices of a good chunk of the production team:

Wally West ( Director's Assistant)

Barbara Gordon (Secretary/PA)

Zatanna Zatara (Producer)

Clark Kent (Cinematographer)

Garth Bernstein (Casting Director)

Victor Stone (Sound Designer)

Rex Mason (Production Designer)

Along with Jason Todd, Slade Wilson was also present. Slade Wilson was cast to play the villain and arch nemesis to Robin, Deathstroke. Damian wasn’t a huge fan of the older man, throughout his long tenure of acting he was known to be vindictive, manipulative, and only watch out for himself. He ran his own talent agency poaching other managers of their clients to fill his arsenal. It worked, however, his name and his wealth always convinced the young and naive actors and actresses to buck over to his team. So before him, he had an army of good talent that made him richer and made membership under his agency ridiculously pricey. As for the actors and actresses, Slade saved the best roles for himself and his favorites, so every audition season was cutthroat and everyone sucked up to Slade to gain his favor and potentially better roles. Damian was disgusted by it and was appalled that Dick would include him in his project, but Dick argued that the new movie needed a genius villain and Slade was the best to play the evil man.

He had to agree with his brother, while Slade was unquestionably a terrible man in real life, he elegantly portrayed one even better on the big screen. Once he aged out of the roguish antihero type leading man, he began getting typecast as the man pulling the strings or the mob boss. Slade loved it because people loved his bad guys and he won a multitude of awards for them. It killed Damian to say it, but he was a perfect choice for the role.

Damian took a deep breath and opened the double doors to the large projector screen with luxurious plush red velvet reclining chairs creating three rows facing the front. The various men and women standing or sitting around the room, each with a drink in their hand. They turned their heads to see who the newcomer was. Dick came bouncing toward him while the others raised their glass in acknowledgement, waved, or called out a greeting.

“Hey Dami! I’m so glad you could make it!” Dick embraced him, but really just hugged around Damian’s hanging arms.

“I had no choice in the matter and you know it, now get off.” Damian resisted.

“Well I’m still glad you listened to my threats.” Dick laughed and guided him inside. “We were just going through the final candidates audition tapes, I’ve decided we’re going to decide tonight as a team!”

“We’re casting everyone tonight?” He looked at the screen to find it paused on someone’s audition. An average height, lanky male with blonde hair and green eyes, no doubt someone auditioning for Changeling.

“No, not everyone, but the main team. Well those we haven’t cast yet! We already signed Kori as Starfire, and yesterday we finalized Connor Kent as Super Boy!” Dick practically cheered.

Damian rolled his eyes at the last casting announcement. “Clark’s brother? And I’m the one that gets called out for nepotism.” He crossed his arms.

Clark snorted, “You know I really thought you guys would have been the best of friends back then. Bruce was right though.” He chuckled again, few of the others joining in as well.

“He really does play cocky and arrogant well though, and you can’t play both roles!” Zatanna called out, making the rest burst into laughter.

“Ha ha. You all know he is a diva. Not everyone that fits the description of the character everyday of their real life should be the actual character. We’re actors because we can be things we’re not, not because we can portray ourselves on screen too, that's why we have reality TV trash.”

“Yeah that’s why we cast you as Robin, a leader, noble, maybe a little romantic, hero. You sure aren’t any of that in real life.” Garth hollered, Jason cackled with him. Damian’s eyes narrowed at the pair.

“Oh, but that’s why he’s an actor, because he can sure as hell act like a badass but isn’t one!” Jason added, their laughing continued. Damian dared a glance around the room, seeing Clark trying to hide his enjoyment, Rex’s smile and the way he nudged Zatanna as if they all agreed. Slade was sitting a glass of whiskey in one hand and a smirk on his face. Once his eyes landed on Barbara and Dick who also got caught giggling, he felt his anger start to rise.

“Your own words are biting you in the ass, Wayne.” Barbara snorted, emphasizing the use of his last name and punctuating the snarky comment with a sip from her glass of wine.

“Laugh all you want, you know I’m right. Now can we please just get on with it so I can go home?” He snapped.

Dick, still chuckling, clapped him on the back. “Sure thing. We actually started a bit early and just voted on our Mark Beast A.K.A Changeling! His name in Garfield Logan-”

“The guy from Space Trek?” Damian scoffed.

“The very one! He has a great following and a pretty solid comedic timing. His fans adore him and he’s already got green eyes! The rest will be easy! Plus he is already trained in gymnastics and does parkour, so stunts should be a little easier and perhaps more practical!” Garth chimed in.

“See, watch!” Dick pressed play and the screen brightened to life, displaying Garfield’s audition, followed by some footage of him at a training facility doing parkour and gymnastic routines. In Damian’s opinion, he wasn’t a poor choice, but he was still skeptical.

The group resettled into their chairs and watched clip after clip of auditions, until they narrowed it down and finally selected someone for the remaining roles. After Garfield Logan, they agreed upon Jaime Reyes to play Dan Garret A.K.A Blue Beetle and Donna Troy to portray Wondergirl, or Cassie Sandsmark. Alfred had arranged some catering to come in and supply them with a delicious meal as they were already a few hours deep into deliberation.

It was finally time to face the choice Damian dreaded the most. Who will play the Sorceress? He hadn’t stopped thinking about how important it was that she get along with him and be a good actress herself. The role was the second largest in the movie and could cost them dearly if they choose incorrectly. That and the fact that the office didn’t stop discussing this one girl’s audition for two full days, luckily it died down after that but Damian didn’t want Jason’s new plaything to be involved at all and certainly didn’t want her too close to himself.

Garth, the casting director, had narrowed their choices down to three different women that had been the best of the bunch. The first audition wasn’t memorable, the girl had played it safe, and while it was still very well done, it was missing that certain something.

Damian recognized the second woman instantly, and all he could think of was how horribly wrong the choice would be. Terra Markov, or better known as Slade Wilson’s lapdog. She was his pet, and she also got any audition she could dream of. No doubt Garth was bribed or in some way coerced to give her a shot, because her look did not scream sorceress at all. To give credit where credit is due, she was a decent actress, she just had a temper and her questionable ties with Slade didn’t sit right with him. They still watched her performance and the crowd seemed rather pleased.

“I really like how she delivered that line!”

“Her blue eyes are so pretty!”

“Imagine if we just dyed her hair or used a wig, I think we have a winner!”

Damian looked to Slade who was sitting there with a smug grin on his face. “She is quite talented isn’t she.”

“She’s great, but we’ve got one more. So let’s not make any decisions quite yet.” Dick answered.

“What? You don’t think she is fit for the role?” Slade pushed back.

“No, no. She did very well, I’m just saying we have one left and we should watch it first. Terra is a strong actress, no question why you signed her under your agency.”

“Mr. Grayson, it’d be most efficient to just call it here, everyone approves of her.” A general nodding of heads and agreements filled the room following Slade’s words.

“True, or we can suck up watching five more goddamn minutes like the fucking director wants, and see all the possibilities. Or is it past your bedtime grandpa?” Jason barked.

“You listen here-” Slade was cut off.

Damian had marched over to Dick’s spot in the theatre and snatched the remote out of his hand, he walked back to his place towards the back of the room and away from everyone else and pressed play on the last audition tape.

The slam of the door and the energy that filled the screen silenced everyone. However, no one was more stunned than Damian, who had just realized that the very woman auditioning was the same from the lobby. It was made evident by the large brown coffee stain he caused on her blouse.

Damian watched the audition speechless. This couldn’t possibly be the one everyone was talking about. To his dismay, he had to admit that he was captivated. He knew that she had been late which explained the sudden start to the tape and lack of a slate, but despite what he caused, it seemed to fuel her annoyance of being disturbed by the alarm. She had added some lines and improvised her movements, Damian knew because he practically had the whole damn script memorized.

He almost laughed when she forced a poor assistant to become her scene partner, the shuffle of papers being thrown at the young man caused a few giggles from the small viewing audience. His eyes widened when she pulled her shirt off and he quickly berated himself for appreciating the fullness of her breasts and how prettily they were wrapped in her beige lace bra. While the woman on the screen addressed her apparel, Damian ‘respectfully’ averted his gaze and was curious to see what the others were thinking.

Barbara and Victor were smirking, seemingly appreciating the woman’s strong presence and how she kept going even though the brainless men were stuck on her wardrobe malfunction. Victor and Dick shared a look that confirmed that whatever they were thinking, that they were on the same page. Once the girl appeared back on screen wearing Jason’s signature jacket, the owner proudly grinned and nudged Garth in the chair beside him whose eyes seemed to be glued a little too much on her body. Rex and Clark were happily enjoying the audition and had even put down their food and snacks, fully entranced. What caught Damian’s eye the most was that Slade has shifted his posture, going from neatly relaxed with one ankle resting on the opposite knee, to leaning forward, fingers laced under his chin and elbows planted on his knees merely observing.

Damian’s focus shifted back to the screen, watching her move about so confidently before sitting in a lotus position and chanting lowly.

“Azerath, Metrion, Zinthos.”

Then Dick called cut and jumped in the scene beside her before the tape was stopped seconds later. A few seconds of silence and processing followed before everyone excitedly looked around and began discussing what they had just seen.

“It’s got to be her!”

“Her eyes are so unique!”

“She improvised all that? That’s incredible!”

But all Damian could think about was the war in his head. There was no denying that she was clearly the best, but he knew he already screwed up with her and was certain she hated his guts. He wasn’t sure if they would be able to work together.

“Okay, so that was the fantastic Raven Roth! She is a phenomenal actress whom you might have seen on Skulls as the forensic scientist.”

“I think it has to be her. Even her look is spot on, she is mysterious and cool.” Barbara said.

“I don’t know…didn’t it seem kind of amateurish to just storm in there. That would not fly on set!” Zatana chirped.

“She wouldn’t do that on set, some jerk spilled coffee on her which made her late! I completely sympathize for the poor girl, and to give us a performance this strong? Incredible! Trust me, I’ve seen a lot of auditions over the years.” Damian’s cheeks started to burn at Garth’s words, unknowingly calling him out.

“I for one agree with Mr. Bernstein, here.” The mumbles around the room silenced at Slade’s approval, he never sided with anyone that wasn’t his own talent.

“You do? But isn’t Terra your client?” Dick asked outright, sparing any tiptoeing around the subject.

“Yes, I am not blind and I know when to fold if my hand is not strong enough. Terra cannot out-perform this girl, at least in a role like this. This girl doesn’t seek attention, she demands it with her screen presence, it’s powerful, impactful. Terra’s performance was surface level, good, but inadequate. I’ll coach her about this later. But nevermind that. Miss Roth would be an excellent addition to the cast, as well as my agency. Does anyone know if she’s being represented?” Slade asked the room, Damian noticing a certain look in his eye that he couldn’t quite name.

“Alrighty then.” Dick looked around the room, everyone nodding in agreement to the unspoken question.

Damian felt a weight in his stomach. No way they all almost unanimously chose the vile woman from the coffee shop. Sure she had done well, but they couldn’t see past that? They’d soon find out her temper and Damian would enjoy watching them regret their decision. But still… he’d have to go to work everyday and look at her stupidly, definitely not in any way attractive, face and convince her to like him. It wasn’t fair. Maybe he should speak up? But to speak up would be to reveal himself as the ‘asshole’ and he couldn’t have that. They’d just side with Raven, and he wouldn’t even be able to explain himself. He had to get out of there, he couldn’t risk anyone realizing that he hadn’t given his usually very vocal opinion. Quietly, he snuck out the door just as Dick was finishing his statement.

“It looks like Raven Roth is our Sorceress!”

He could hear the applause from the hallway but he didn’t look back, he proceeded to the kitchen to grab some water and hide. Feeling the cold water slide down his throat, cooling the anger and frustration within him slightly, Damian took a very needed deep breath. Just then, the last person he wanted to see found him.

“Damian, why’d you leave? We just broke out the champagne to celebrate the completed casting!” Dick held his flute of champagne out, swirling the contents as if to entice him.

“I don’t care for champagne.”

“Suit yourself.” he shrugged and took a large sip. After pulling the glace down from his lips, he leaned his hip against the kitchen island and stared directly into Damian’s eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t speak up in there.”

“I had nothing to say.” Damian tried to sound nonchalant.

“If there’s one thing I know about you Damian, it’s that you always have something to say, especially when it directly affects you.”

Dick was good, he always knew when something was up, and usually Damian reluctantly found it endearing but right now it was definitely not the time. “It’s not like I have a choice in the matter. You all seemed very pleased with her so there is no point in voicing my opinion for it to be met with criticism.” He shrugged.

“Criticism huh? So you didn’t like her?”

Damian opened his mouth to protest but once again, Dick had caught him. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he figured he might as well get the interrogation over with. “I had the displeasure of meeting Miss Roth sometime before her audition. She was inconsiderate and rude and I don’t think we need that kind of behavior on set. Oh and she’s Todd’s new plaything which also poses a problem.”

“Oh, I had no idea. She certainly seemed nice and courteous enough when we talked to her. But I suppose she could be putting on an act for her benefit and given that she wouldn’t know that you were already cast she'd have no reason to give you better treatment. I was also under the impression that Jason and Raven had never met prior to her audition.” He rubbed his chin in thought, “I will take this into consideration as we onboard her. I don’t want to react harshly without further investigation. As it stands, she will continue to be our Sorceress with Terra Markov as a potential backup if Raven falls through.”

Damian crossed his arms, frowning slightly. “I don’t think this will end well for me…I mean us.”

“Everything will be fine. I’ll look into it and adjust whatever needs adjusting. I’ll tell Jay to back off and we’ll make sure she’s not a diva. I appreciate you telling me and not brooding to yourself about this like Bruce.

“Yeah, whatever.” He relaxed slightly, dropping his arms in surrender. “I’m going to go back to my place.”

“You don’t want to stay for the rest of the party? We were gonna watch some of the segments announcing your casting!”

Just then the sound of shattering glass echoed in from the entryway. Dick winced and looked back to Damian who barely reacted..

“Absolutely not. I can watch them on my own time”

“Fair enough, thanks for coming anyway! I’ll see you soon!”

“I still had no choice.” Damian called over his shoulder as he headed out the kitchen and toward the entrance. He bid Alfred farewell and departed back to his condo.

Finally settled into the peace and quiet his own space brought him, he started searching for the articles about himself. Most of the articles had received and reported the news positively, stating that the casting choice was a no-brainer and how excited they were to see the cast built around him. A few wireless welcoming but they came from more unpopular sites, and some outlets hadn’t reported anything yet. But the information was still new so it will keep trickling down through the circuit until everyone has given their mostly unsolicited insight.

The one thing that still popped up everytime his name hit the headlines though started popping up right in front of his eyes. It never failed to make him feel less than and unworthy.

Nepotism

#raven #teen titans #raven roth #robrae #damian wayne #damirae #jayrae #dc fanfic #demonbirds #fanfic #just another hollywood scene

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