unavenged-robin - Tumblr blog

[unavenged-robin]

the bottom 2 were taken 3 minutes apart

[unavenged-robin]

today (everyday) is loving damian wayne day. haters and dc writers do not interact

[unavenged-robin]

I believe I read somewhere on your blog that you mostly read gen fic. I’ve been struggling to find good gen fic lately, especially since I tend to read only ships. Do you have any favorites to recommend?

Sure thing! Decided to make a list of random fics focusing on Dick’s relationships with his various family members. Hopefully some of these catch your guys fancy! 

Bruce 

It’s The Thought That Counts by FinalArc. 4/4 Finished. It's Dick's birthday, and Bruce wants to find the perfect gift. But he and his adopted son have very different perspectives on gift-giving. 

Half Lost, Half Found by takadainmate. 4/5 Incomplete. Driven underground, Batman fights to keep Nightwing alive. 

When I Touch the Water by @audreycritter. 1/1 Complete. Bruce is trying to deal with an old injury alone, and alone is exactly the opposite of how Dick Grayson is willing to let him handle it. But Bruce can't really complain because it's nice to see his son again and not fight for once.

It Could Stay Simple (Just Stay This Little) by coconuticecream (staymonkey). 1/1 Finished. Maybe claiming legal guardianship over a child at 22, and so soon after becoming Batman, spread Bruce thinner than he’d realized. Maybe Bruce was less equipped to parent a third grader than he’d thought. 

In the dark of night by @fanfictiongreenirises. 1/1 Finished. Bruce and Dick and a series of steps and leaps and jumps. 

File by @oh-mother-of-darkness. 1/1 Finished. While Bruce was lost in time, his family believed he was dead. Dick Grayson became Batman, and Damian Wayne became Robin. Bruce didn't expect that second part.

Alfred 

Circus Meals by @nightween. 1/1 Complete. Alfred and Dick in the kitchen. Fluff. 

Through Sandstorms and Hazy Dawns by @lilaclotuses. 1/1 Complete. "Robin," Bruce grinds out, "stop talking. You need to stay sharp." Dick knows he is walking a fine, fine line. "Aw, come on, B," he says, going for cheerful but feeling like something in him, something he has kept carefully in check till now, is about to snap. 

Barbara 

I get knocked down, but I get up again. You're never going to keep me down. by innerbrat. 1/1 Finished. Batman is on a mission out of Gotham, leaving Batgirl and Robin as the city's protectors.

Jason

A Better Choice by AiyokuSama. 5/5 Complete. What should have happened in Batman 426 - 428 (when Bruce was an ass and Jason found out that Catherine wasn’t his biological mom.) 

Bite the Bullet by @bearly-writing. 1/1 Complete. Dick is injured during a hostage situation. 

Thanks by @hood-ex. 1/1 Complete. “You good?” Dick asks, already kneeling by Jason’s side. “Oh, totally,” Jason says. He tries to adjust his position without hurting himself more. “Sometimes I just come up here by myself to stare at the smog. Just contemplating the rampant amount of pollution in the city—ow fuck. I don’t know if B told you, but I’m an environmentalist first and Robin second. I’ve always been that way. Since the womb.” 

Tim

a soft place to land by @bluebeauregard. 1/1 Complete. Tim rubs the back of his head, trying to affect a joking tone. “I knew I should’ve just gone for the new escrima sticks.”Dick is ready to be a good big brother to his grieving little bro. Tim flips the script. 

ab irato by lightgeists. 1/1 Complete. Tim and Dick have a conversation about guilt and anger in the nebulous time period following Haiti.

Steph

Oops by @tiptapricot. 2/2 Finished. Steph wakes up in a dingy Gotham alley, her ears ringing and head pounding like a drum. When she opens her eyes to see a kid in scaly green shorts and a cape, she realizes her mistake on tonight's mission was much bigger than she realized.

Untitled by @hood-ex. 1/1 Finished. Steph comforting Dick about Spyral. 

Cass

flowers on the grave of the child that i used to be by @danishsweethearts. 1/1 Finished. Cass is not Robin. This probably makes her the best candidate for understanding it.

The Wait for Midnight by RenaRoo. 1/1 Finished. When Dick Grayson is seriously hurt, Cassandra tries to keep him awake by telling him the story of Cinderella. 

whisper help by batofgoodintent. 1/1 Finished. whumptober day 1: shaking hands. dick overdid it and cass is being a perfect help. 

set it free (we are the roses that grew out of the concrete jungle) by MildlyRebelliousMint. 1/1 Finished. 

Damian 

Catch Me (All Records Indicate) by Engineerd. 5/5 Finished. Damian had studied each of his father’s prior proteges briefly before he’d left the League of Assassins. Somehow, Grayson in person is nothing like Grayson on paper.

Soft nights by @unavenged-robin. 1/1 Finished. “You’ve been asleep for the past twelve hours" “And you got a little worried?”

Handle with Care by takadainmate. 1/1 Finished. Dick is sick. Alfred isn't around. Bruce and Damian do their best.

baby wonder by @drakefeathers. 1/1 Finished. (baby!damian AU) Bruce dies, Dick becomes Batman. But the Damian that Talia leaves in his care isn’t a ten-year-old warrior, he’s a ten-month-old baby.

3:16 by @wufflesvetinari. 13/? In-Progress. The knife pushes thin along Dick’s carotid artery, cupping the indent between neck and jawline—forcing him to angle his chin. The metal is warm, pulled with execution speed from under Damian’s pillow. “Okay,” Dick says quietly, tracking the intricacies of his own heartbeat—counting the space between breaths. “Guess I did need a shave.” (With faltering steps, Dick and Damian become Batman and Robin.)

Duke 

fun and games by @prismatic-et-al. 30/30 In-Progress. The Joker's loose, and the Batman isn't in Gotham. The family struggles to hold itself together as everything else spins out of control. *THIS FIC IS MASTERCLASS* It really has the whole family, but the parts with Dick and Duke are so good I can’t help but put it here for him. 

Assorted Bat-Family Members 

bad signal by @prismatic-et-al. 27/27 Complete. The rescue mission went well. Nightwing is safe. Everything should be alright. Right? 

(At the Very Least), I Can by @selkienight60. 1/1 Finished. “… something is wrong.” That was Bruce’s voice, he would know it anywhere. OR, Dick Grayson + Full Body Paralysis. 

another set of issues by @danishsweethearts. 1/1 Finished. Batfamily, meet Reverse Batfamily. No holds barred, no penalties, no time limit. Cage match. 

[unavenged-robin]

Do you have any fic recs where batfam has to comfort Dick?

I have a few fics where Dick is taken care of...in no particular order: 

Soft nights by @unavenged-robin. 1/1 Finished. “You’ve been asleep for the past twelve hours" “And you got a little worried?”

(At the Very Least), I Can by @selkienight60. 1/1 Finished. “… something is wrong.”That was Bruce's voice, he would know it anywhere. OR, Dick Grayson + Full Body Paralysis. 

Handle with Care by takadainmate. 1/1 Finished. Dick is sick. Alfred isn't around. Bruce and Damian do their best. 

In the dark of night by @fanfictiongreenirises. 1/1 Finished. Bruce and Dick and a series of steps and leaps and jumps. 

Post-Op by Batsymomma11. 1/1 Finished. Dick Grayson needed surgery. His family had to sit in the waiting room, just like everyone else. Bruce isn't worried. Not at all. Not. At. All. 

Bite the Bullet by @bearly-writing. 1/1 Finished. "If they were in costume, this wouldn’t even be a workout – Jason could probably take the three of them down without breaking a sweat. But they aren’t in costume and they don’t have any of their gear and no amount of martial arts training is going to stop a bullet – not the way that Kevlar does."

spiderwebs and tangents by @fanfictiongreenirises. 1/1 Finished. Bruce walks into his room to find a crying heap in his bed. 

The Jingle Jangle Morning by @audreycritter. 1/1 Finished. Dick’s first overnight field trip without Bruce doesn’t go as well as planned.

It Could Stay Simple (Just Stay This Little) by coconuticecream (staymonkey). 1/1 Finished. Maybe claiming legal guardianship over a child at 22, and so soon after becoming Batman, spread Bruce thinner than he'd realized. Maybe Bruce was less equipped to parent a third grader than he'd thought. Maybe Bruce should do more to invite Dick into his life. Maybe Bruce should hug Dick, or promise he'll do better by Dick, or tell Dick that he loves Dick more than he thought himself capable. 

I realize now that a lot of these are Bruce and Dick rather than Batfam, but I’m in the mood for them rn lmao. Might add some more later with more of the fam...

[unavenged-robin]

Hi! I'm Pidge and I'm a writer from Ukraine and I recenly found your damijon fic, the "Skinship" one and it just,, really made my heart beat faster and I love it with my whole being,, As well as every other work in the series if I'm honest, but that one the most for some reason ;; And so I was wondering if I can translate it to russian and post the translated version on ao3 and ficbook (russian fanfiction arcive)? With credit and everything of course! (your messages are closed so I hope it's ok)

Hi! I’m really glad that you liked the fic so much you want to translate it! Please feel free to do so, and once it’s done if you send me a message with the link I’ll add it in the story’s notes :)

[unavenged-robin]

Shadow of The Batgirl

[unavenged-robin]

Sometimes, writer’s block is just not allowing yourself to write poorly. Give yourself that freedom. 

[unavenged-robin]

I’ve realized I’ve never written about Barbara and Damian before, so I corrected myself. Have some whump from the DickBat Era.

-

Barbara doesn’t panic. Ever. It’s not her style. She usually doesn’t get angry either, not right away at least, because anger is not her way of dealing with things. But this is Dick, here in front of her, strapped down to a gurney, unconscious and almost blue and still oh so cold at the touch. And the damn kid is just. not. speaking.

“How long?”, she asks.

Damian ignores her, his face unreadable behind the domino mask. He's staring at an undefined spot above Dick's head like he's trying to pierce the wall with the power of his mind.

“Robin, look at me!”, Barbara snaps in her best Oracle voice, and if Dick were awake he would start singsonging something like oooh someone’s angry in that annoying, teasing voice she’s hated for years, because it’s one of the few things that actually manages to get under her skin when she’s under pressure. But Dick is not awake, that’s the whole point. So she’s free to get as angry as she likes.

Not that her anger's having much of an impact, anyway, since Damian does turn towards her, but he does it slowly, like she’s an inconvenience to be endured.

“Two hours”, he answers with the same aplomb, and Barbara never thought that one day she'd want to slap a child so badly she’d have to actually restrain herself, but she clutches the wheels of her chair tightly enough for her knuckles to go white, and she counts three heartbeats before speaking again.

“And it took you two hours to call for reinforcement? Two hours to push a goddamn button and get in contact with me, or Tim, or Alfred-”

“I called Brown”, Damian interrupts her, flat as pancake.

“What?”

“Brown. The current Batgirl”, Damian explains, like he’d really need to. “She didn’t answer.”

“Of course not”, Barbara snaps again. “She’s in Chicago this week.”

And Damian didn’t have to know that, because knowing that it’s not the point. The point is that he should’ve called her, and he should’ve done so the very moment Dick had been hit. Barbara pushes her glasses back up her nose and looks at the boy with the same intensity that Damian’s using to stare at the wall.

“Dick could’ve died, Damian”, she spells out, loud and clear. “Freeze’s gun could’ve killed him as easily as a bullet to the head, do you really not understand it? Do you care so little for him?”

“I called Brown”, Damian insists, with a little more strain in his voice, and Barbara gets the message all too well: I trust her. I don’t trust you. That only makes her even more ruthless.

“Stephanie is not your contact, I am. Alfred is. This is the protocol, and you should know it by now”, she says, not yelling, but letting her voice vibrating all the same. “If you don’t, then you don’t deserve that costume you’re wearing, and Dick was a fool to give it to you.”

She expects her anger to be countered by Damian’s less than pacific temperament when it comes to take criticism, but the kid doesn’t react, doesn’t insult her, doesn’t even try to defend himself.

He just stands there, watching the wall above Dick’s head like it would help anything.

Deflated, Barbara goes back to the monitors, to the steady heartbeat line and the rhythmic beeping of the machinery, which is all is left to fill the silence around them.

*

“He said not to worry you.”

Damian’s voice is soft, almost too low to be heard, especially after something like two hours of complete silence. Barbara turns around, sees the kid still standing in the same spot, the mask still on his face, his gaze still on the wall. She’s vaguely surprised to discover Damian can be so quiet for so long.

“What?”

“Grayson said not to worry you”, Damian repeats. “That he was fine.”

And you believed him?, Barbara almost asks, but she stops herself in time. Of course Damian had believed him. Everybody believes Dick when he says that everything’s going to be fine: he’s so charming, so convincing, so very, very, believable. And it’s always so comforting to have someone that in a bad situation will always be able to smile at you and tell you that things will be okay. Barbara’s guilty of having committed that same mistake over and over again, and without having the excuse of being a child or the latest addition to the family.

So she sighs, grabs the chair by Dick's bed and drags it next to hers.

“Sit”, she says.

More than the silence, more than the lack of insults and temper tantrums, is the way Damian follows her order that gives her a measure of just how much the kid’s not in himself right now. Barbara had assumed that he hadn't really understood the situation, or at least that he had seriously underestimated the danger of it, but it’s now obvious that she was wrong: Damian understands all too well, and he’s scared just like her.

She waits for the kid to sit down, then she turns back to stare at Dick’s profile, almost in anger because he really ought to know better.

“Listen to me. I won’t repeat this ever again, and especially not in front of him, but you need to know this, you have to learn it by heart and believe it”, she pauses a second, allowing herself to remember a night of many years ago, when she had given the same speech to a much younger Dick, while being not that much older than him at the time. The problem with Robins is that they all have the same weak spot, apparently. “You’re Batman’s partner, and that means that sometimes you’ll have to decide what’s best for him the same way sometimes he will decide what’s best for you. Otherwise one of you will be killed either to follow an order, or by not following it at all. And both ways are stupid ways to die, is that clear?”

Damian lets her words settle down, then he shrugs without refusing nor agreeing with her, which is more of what Barbara was expecting.

“If at some point you called Stephanie, it means that you thought a backup was necessary. And if you think a backup is necessary you call everyone. It doesn’t matter what Batman says, what his orders are. If you are in doubt, you call me.”

Next to her, Damian stiffens.

“He said-”

“It doesn’t matter what he said”, Barbara interrupts him, not too harshly. “You’re Robin, you don’t need his permission to call me.”

“I know”, Damian answers weakly.

Barbara’s not so sure about that, but she doesn’t say it.

“I’m trusting you with his life every night”, she continues. Normally she would feel uncomfortable about putting such a heavy responsibility on a child's shoulders, but Damian’s not most children, he ticks in a different way. And, apparently, he tries to listen to them sometimes. So she goes out on a limb and actually reaches out to take the kid’s hand in hers, and if he’s surprised by her gesture he hides it well and, most importantly, he doesn’t reject it. Still, Barbara makes sure Damian’s looking at her when she says: “I need you to trust me too, kiddo.”

Damian scrunches up his nose, and it’s difficult to say if he does so in faked contempt or because he’s trying to hide a stronger emotion, but Barbara chooses to believe that Dick’s right about this kid, that there’s lots of good in him, and not just because he’s Bruce’s son, but because he’s here, with them, trying harder than ever to do the right thing.

“Okay?”, she asks, and she smiles for the first time tonight.

Damian doesn’t say okay, doesn’t even nod, but he squeezes her fingers a little, and doesn’t let go of her hand as they both turn to Dick once again.

[unavenged-robin]

love that the ‘bat-computer’ refuses to acknowledge Stephanie’s time as Batgirl, and also rather than including a picture of something representative of Steph AS ROBIN or as a HERO like the boys get…we get…her making out with Tim.(And as the reboot version of Spoiler, who was never Robin and yes i’m still bitter and pedantic!)

also she didn’t ‘return to being spoiler’ she was fired and killed and then resurrected thanks to fan outcry don’t gloss over that because you want us all to forget i wont.

[unavenged-robin]

(Still based on DCeased&DCeased Unkillables. Spiritual sequel of this one because that's the mood, folks.)

Jason sees Damian in the Batman's costume for the first time.

-

“Don’t laugh”, Damian growls, and his voice is so much deeper than it used to be back when he was ten years old and he barely reached Jason’s chest, but it hasn't lost that particular brand of petulance that practically begs to be teased.

“I’m not laughing”, Jason lies, doing his best to keep a straight face.

Damian clicks his tongue and keeps studying the stack of paperwork in front of him in that elegantly indignant way of his.

“It’s just weird”, Jason continues after a moment, unsolicited. “You’ve got to give me that.”

“I don’t have to give you anything”, Damian answers. “My sympathy for your horrendous sense of humor least of all.”

“I didn’t say it was funny, I only said-”

“You were laughing”, Damian cuts him off, deadpan and matter-of-factly just like his dad used to be. That thought makes Jason bites the inside of his own cheek. He feels conflicted between the urge to laugh and this sadness that keeps eating at his insides.

“Maybe I was laughing a little bit”, he admits eventually. “But it’s just because it’s weird, you know, having a Batman who’s younger than me. Having a Superman who’s younger than me. I could’ve been the kindergarten teacher of half the Justice League right now. Let me laugh on it, otherwise my head will implode and you don’t want that.”

Another dismissive click of the tongue.

“That’s what you think.”

“That’s what I know, sweetheart.”

“I’m still an assassin”, Damian reminds him, almost affably. It used to be his favorite intimidation back in the days. Tim had probably heard that sentence too many times to count them.

“Nope, you’re not”, Jason laughs. “You’re the goddamn Batman now, kiddo. And that means no more assassin threats for you. You can’t afford it anymore.”

Damian stops reading Green Canary’s latest report and looks up for the first time since this whole little squabble started. The cowl is currently pulled back on his neck, his hair is so long it curls around his temples, and Jason makes a mental note to ask Alfred to arrange an impromptu haircutting session as soon as he can.

“Is that what’s bothering you?”, Damian asks, and maybe his intention was to sound aggressive, but Jason only hears the insecurity that almost breaks his voice.

“I didn-”

“Do you think that you should be the Batman?”, Damian continues in one quick breath, as if he believed that if he slowed his words down too much, they wouldn't come out of his mouth, and it’s obviously not a spur-of-the-moment thought that one, but something he’s probably mulled over since the very first moment he’s discovered Jason was alive.

And yet, he doesn't say it out of anger, he doesn't sound bitter, he doesn't even sound mad, but almost... hopeful? Yes, that’s what knocks the wind out of Jason: the idea of Damian actually asking him to take the cape and the cowl from his hands.

“No”, he refuses immediately, without even thinking. “My sweet lord, no. I can not be Batman.”

“Why not?”, Damian insists. “You wanted it, once.”

“I was crazy once. I was also dead once. And an Outlaw. And a killer. And a lot of awful things we don’t need to list right now”, Jason retorts. “Point is, I’m not good Batman material. But kid, if you don’t want to be Batman either, no one can force the responsibility on you, not even Bruce or - god forbid such thing from existing - his ghost.”

Damian shakes his head and leans back on his chair, looking exhausted.

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“You are… older.”

Jason snorts.

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“You were Robin before me”, Damian adds.

Jason feels conflicted again. Once upon a time, he would’ve snapped, insulted Damian, and left the room slamming the door behind him. He would’ve disappeared for at least a couple of weeks, just to show up some time later and act like nothing had happened. Once upon a time, he could’ve afforded all of that. Now he can’t.

“Not all Robins want to be Batman, Damian”, he answers after a moment, because that’s all he can offer to the kid: white lies, and a shoulder to cry on. That’s all he’s good for, now.

Damian looks away from him and doesn’t comment. For a moment Jason wonders if maybe even Damian - the little assassin specifically bred for the job, the proud heir of the Wayne’s bloodline, Bruce’s one and only biological son - had dreamt of something different. It’s weird to even think about it, but.

“Good”, Damian announces.

“Good?”

“You would make an awful Batman.”

Jason laughs, and briefly considers the idea of walking over to the desk to give the kid a hug. In the end he decides against it. Damian may be the new Batman, but Jason’s not so sure he's given up his habit of carrying knives everywhere.

“On that we agree”, he answers simply.

He allows a few minutes to pass, then he clears his throat. He could leave it at that, with a shared laugh and a silent confirmation of support. But this is a brave new world, and they both deserve a little more than that, at this point.

“You will not”, he adds then, and Damian, who was just getting back to his papers, looks up at him again.

“You will be a great Batman. You already are”, Jason clarifies. “Bruce would be proud of you. And Dick too. Tim would probably have some smart remark about gnome-sized costumes, but he would be also very proud of what you’ve become.”

In spite of his lame humor attempt, he spots a watery gleam in the kid's eyes, so he hurries on before his courage fails him.

“And I am too. Just so you know it”, he concludes, looking at his own hands.

He pretends not to hear Damian swallowing back a few times. It’s not his business. Beside, if they start crying Cassandra and Alfred will hear them, and that wouldn’t be good.

“Okay”, Damian manages to say, and he almost succeeds in keeping his voice even. “Thanks.”

“Hey, what are estranged older brother for, right?”, Jason jokes.

Damian nods stiffly, then pulls the cowl back on his face.

Jason can’t say he blames him.

“You do look funny, though”, he says instead, and when Damian throws a knife at him he feels almost relieved.

[unavenged-robin]

The first and the latest 

[unavenged-robin]

(Based on DCeased&DCeased Unkillables, so be warned: this is just Jason, Cass and Damian crying. No plot, only sorrow)

-

It takes them almost three weeks to find and finally reach Damian, and when they do, when their eyes finally meet from one side of the room to the other, Jason feels this stupid, unexpected and overwhelming urge to start crying. He had not cried when he had to face the battered corpses of Bruce, Dick and Tim, he had not cried when he had to dug holes in the ground to bury them, he had not cried when he had to drag them like they were empty and broken things to get rid of, and he had perhaps felt a brief pinch in his nose when he had found himself standing in front of those makeshift graves, but crying he had not.

But now he’s looking at this kid that’s always been too similar to Bruce for his own good and Jason’s peace of mind, this kid who had owned a piece of Dick's heart for so long it had become almost impossible not to associate one with the other, this kid who’s the only one who can understand the complexity of Jason’s relationship with Tim, the only one who knows how you can hate and hurt the people you love so deeply that you can no longer tell what is one thing and what is the other. This kid that looks up at him and then at Cassandra and can’t hide his own tears.

So Jason lets Cass go first. He lets her run to their brother and watches them as they hug, and a spark of amusement hits him when he notices they’re almost the same height now. He can’t hear what they’re saying, the wet whispers hidden against necks and shoulders, the lullaby of pain and regrets that he’s been singing in his own head since the very first day this shit’s happened. He still moves towards them, even if he does it in slow steps, almost reluctantly, not because he doesn’t want to share his sorrow, but because he knows that the very moment he reaches them, something will change: there’s going to be an end, and after the end a new beginning.

Jason doesn’t know if he’s ready for that, and yet Damian’s sobs hurt his heart too bad not to push him forward - always forward - and he’s heard Cass crying before, every night for a whole month, even if she did her best to hide it, but he’s never held her, never had the courage, never felt like it was in his rights. But now they’re all here, and pretending that they’re not mourning is not going to work anymore, and eventually all this grief has to go somewhere, they need to put it one place, let it crystallize, so that one day, maybe, it will hurt them a little less.

He learns that, even if Damian’s not that little anymore, he can still circle them both with his arms, and it’s weird to feel Damian’s soft hair against his cheek, it’s weird to feel how incredibly solid Cassandra’s body is - what with her looking like a doll and all of that - and most of all it’s weird to realize that he’s never held any of them in his arms before, he’s never shared his affection like this, he's never shown them how much he loves them, just like he's never shown it to Bruce and Dick and Tim and Barbara and Roy and who knows how many others who will never be able to find out now.

He cups the back of Damian’s neck with his hand and pulls the kid closer to him. He wants to tell him that he took care of their family, that they’re all resting next to each other in their home - a place where he hopes none of them will ever be forced to return to - but he’s crying too hard now, the words feel like stones trapped in his throat, and he’s not sure Damian would be able to hear him anyway because he’s crying even harder than Jason is.

There are so many wrong things in all of this. If Jason would’ve had the chance to choose which member of his family he would be holding right now, Damian and Cassandra probably wouldn't be here. And he knows it’s the same for them. Damian would’ve killed to have Dick and Bruce here. Cass had always been closer to Tim and Barbara than any of them. But it's the three of them who survived, the three of them who, ironically, have all already died once, only to find themselves alive at the end of the world, alone, except for each other.

Jason falls on his knees, exhausted, and Cass and Damian fall down with him, crashing on him in a mess of limbs and tears and a half choked laugh that sounds like his own. Their weight makes his bruised ribs hurt, but he doesn’t care, not really, because the important thing is that they don’t let go, they stay close, and their grip on him feels like a promise for a future that, in spite of everything, will still come, a future that they will have to face together and, because of that, it now seems just a little less terrifying.

[unavenged-robin]

2020 vs 2017 (ft a small skit)

[unavenged-robin]

There isn’t much justice in this world. Perhaps that’s why it is so satisfying to occasionally make some. — Martian Manhunter

[unavenged-robin]

Jason with a tongue piercing :)

Rebel

[unavenged-robin]

Leaping and hopping on a moonshadow

or, the one where after a long, long time the Batman and The Red Hood meet on a rooftop. 

(Also on AO3 bc this stuff is long)

-

He had known from the very start of this particular mission that there would be very little need of secrecy involved, but the years of training under Batman and the League had shaped the way his body moved in such a deep manner that it was just too unnatural not to try to blend in with the shadows around him. Instead than controlling that impulse, it would be easier to go in the opposite way and make himself known; he could do it too: after all the Red Hood has not a common sight in Blüdhaven for some years now, but he isn’t a secret either and criminals usually have a long memory.

He still finds himself hesitating. And it’s not because of the Batmobile approaching on the street just across from the building he’s currently on top, no. Batman knows he’s here, it’s a legitimate assumption that he’s always aware of the Red Hood’s movements. He finds that he doesn’t mind it that much. Before, when he was still a kid, that constant surveillance had bothered him like nothing else had, but in time he’d got used to it. Now their paths had been severed for too long for it to be a problem or even a nuisance anymore. It’s just a reminiscence of that what was once done out of love and is now done out of suspect, fear, maybe anger. He, himself, had stopped caring a long time ago, he just finds it sad that the old man could not let it go.

Several floors beneath him, in the yard outside the antique shop he's keeping his eye on, three masked men start moving the crates from the storehouse into the back of a black van. The man he's here for tonight hasn't shown up yet, but he isn’t surprised about that, Owain Dorsey had a reputation for being a hard one to locate, and as much as it pains him to admit it, hearing about this operation was more of a stroke of luck than the result of months of hard research. Luck was also a debatable term in this case, since he would have very gladly avoided coming back on the continent, let alone on this very city. Sure, Gotham would’ve been worse, but given the circumstances, not even that much so.

He picks up the binoculars from the floor and scans the west side once more. Batman would come in from the north, unless he decides to go around the store, in which case he would have to find a way to distract him long enough to make sure he wouldn't go after Dorsey before him. He has no reason to believe Batman knows anything about his operation, but better be careful anyway: he knows there are other eyes around, and he knows they are no longer on his side (if they ever were, that’s it).

He checks the gun strapped to his left leg, making sure that the holster is unfastened, then he runs his gloved fingers along the edge of the katana at his other side. He’s not nervous about having to use either of them, but he’s not looking forward the discussion he’s going to have with Talia if any of this goes wrong. Not to mention the one he’s going to have with the asshole that is the new Demon’s Head, who’s never agreed with this plan to start with.

He sucks in a sharp breath, closes his eyes for the split of a moment and, finally, he jumps.

*

Batman gets there before him, which was somehow expected because if there’s a talent he can recognize to the man, it’s his timing: never there when you most need him, always in your way at the least opportune moment. He’s not too worried, though. Tonight should not be hard, there will be no killing involved and no moral conflict about what needs to be done. What he needs is one single information, and a bit of violence was never frowned upon too much, not even when he was a kid and the adults around him were so, so busy settling an example for him.

The back of the van spews out three more masked goons the exact moment Batman lands in the middle of the yard, and he smiles behind his helmet, looking at their guns. One of them is holding a gold plated Desert Eagle, and that’s what he was looking for: the stupid and very distinctive little quirk that had made Dorsey instantly identifiable, linking him to a series of robberies targeting antique shops and jewellery stores.

Batman doesn’t even look at him as they fight back to back against the small group of thieves. He tries to hold back enough not to cause serious damage, but all in all he doesn’t worry too much about the punches he’s landing: as long as the gun stays where it is, Batman shouldn't have anything to complain about. He keeps an eye on Dorsey, but doesn’t show too much interest in him either, merely knocking him back a few times.

“On your left”, Batman growls, and he ducks immediately, his body so trained he doesn’t even give himself the time to discuss the order. It upsets him a little that the instinct to obey that voice is still so strong in him, like it hadn't been years since he'd worn the Robin's costume, like all the blood and betrayal that has happened between then and now means nothing just because they’re together again. And he hates that a part of him really believes that, he hates that this feels so familiar it makes his heart hurt, he hates finding out that he had missed this.

“Think about yourself”, he growls back, and he takes advantage of the clumsy attack of one of his opponents to grab the man by the arm, twirl around on his feet, and throw him against Batman's back. Low blow, he knows, but if the old man hadn't seen it coming, it's not his fault.

Batman goes down on one knee for just one moment, and that’s all he needs. He grabs Dorsey by the collar of his jacket, pulls out his grappling hook and shoots it above their heads. They’re both gone in a matter of seconds, and Batman shouting behind him only adds some sweetness to his victory. He won’t be able to follow them right away, not with five other men trying to keep him on the ground.

He lands on the roof of the building that had served him as a point of observation all night long. The bag he had purposely left open is still there, sporting a few tools that would come quite handy in the unlikely event this discussion should not go down the way he wants it to. He makes sure Dorsey understands this by throwing him down on the concrete just next to the bag, his nose almost touching one of the sharp tips poking out of it.

“Where is it?”, he asks, the helmet warping his voice into a metallic rasp.

The mask on Dorsey’s face is long gone: small eyes stuck into a lump of fat vaguely shaped like a human face look up at him, bloodshot and scared.

“I don’t know what-”

He doesn’t give him the time to finish and pushes his right foot right into the man’s trachea long enough for the man's lips to take on a vague bluish tinge, as Dorsey wriggles underneath him and tries, without success, to get rid of the combat boot that is crushing him.

“The book”, he repeats in the same even, scary voice. “Tell me where it is, if you want to be still able to talk about anything ever again.”

He removes his foot, allowing the man to take in two quick breaths, and then, before Dorsey even tries to answer him, he thrusts the tip of his boot under the man’s chin, as a warning.

“If your next word is not the one I want to hear, I'll make you swallow your teeth”, he informs him. One thing he doesn’t dislike about his costume is the look on his opponents’ faces when they look at him and see nothing but their own reflections. He doesn’t need this kind of tricks to make sure they believe him when he threatens them, but surely it doesn't hurt.

Dorsey licks his lips, then swallows down, evaluating the chances that the Red Hood could maybe be bluffing. He’s not. They all should know that by now.

“Dishna”, he whispers.

“Egypt, then”, the Red Hood says. It makes sense. They already have a small contingent of people looking for the asset there. Talia will be happy to know she was right: cowards and traitors, when they don't know where to go, they always go back home.

The rustle behind him warns him of what’s about to happen. He’s quicker than the old man this time, and he gets to knock Dorsey unconscious with a well placed kick before the batarang flies so close to his face it actually make a small cut into his neck.

He rolls on his feet and takes himself to the other side of the roof before standing up to face his old mentor.

“Good evening”, he salutes him, making sure to sound as sarcastic as possible. “There are nicer way to say ‘welcome home’, you know.”

He brings a hand to his neck and withdraws it covered in blood. Not much, but still enough to annoy him. He had pointed out the flaw of an uncovered neck under a full-face helmet several times: that strip of naked skin is practically an invitation to be beheaded, but his predecessor had retorted that no one else was ever supposed to wear that costume apart from him - he least of all. Stupid Todd.

“Did you kill him?”, Batman asks.

“Unless you’ve gone blind in your old age, I’m pretty sure you can see he’s still breathing”, he answers coolly. “And you can take him and tie him up with the others, if you want, I have no use for him anymore.”

Clearly distrustful of that immediate hand-over, Batman takes a step closer to him.

“Then why did you take him?”

“That’s none of your business, I’m afraid. He’s alive and I’m not going to fight you for him, it should be enough for you to be happy”, he retorts. “It's definitely an improvement compared to the last time we saw each other, Grayson.”

That makes Dick stop, physically and mentally: he can see it. It’s been years, yes, but they can still read each other so well, it’s frankly unnerving.

“Take off that helmet”, Batman says. “Please, Damian.“

Damian pretends that the please is what persuades him to comply. The truth is that he’s never liked the constriction of that stupid thing all over his face, dulling his senses and forcing him to rely only on its technology - and as advanced as the League had made it, he still doesn’t entirely trust anything outside himself. The truth may also be that, after all these years, he wants to look at Grayson with his own eyes, and maybe, at the same time, he wants Grayson to look at his real face.

“Take off that cowl”, he still demands in return.

Grayson hesitates, but only for a moment. He pushes the Batman’s mask back with a sigh almost as satisfied as Damian’s. Before this moment he had never considered the fact that now both of them are wearing a costumes they never wanted in the first place. The irony of a vigilantes life, Damian supposes.

There are grey strands in Grayson’s hair now, and wrinkles around his eyes. Damian’s surprised to see him so old, to find out that time has left such an evident mark on him. Not that he expected to find him identical to how he remembered him but… almost, maybe. Not so similar to Father, that’s for sure.

“You look just like Bruce”, Grayson says softly, mirroring his thoughts. “I mean, you look more like him than before. It’s scary.”

Jason and his mother use the word unsettling instead of scary, but they say it in the exact same way as Grayson.

“It's not a pride of mine”, Damian answers sharply. “And I'm sure the feeling is reciprocated.”

Dick shakes his head.

“He misses you”, he answers, almost smiling, and he uses that gentle voice that Damian knows so well. “And so do I.”

“The feeling is not reciprocated.”

Dick takes another step towards him.

“Don’t”, Damian warns him, and his brother stops again.

So many times Damian had wished for this moment, and so many times he had imagined a reconciliation that he was not possible, but, more than that, so many times he had feared that Grayson would never even try to make it happen. Knowing that he was wrong is a small victory he doesn’t intend to share, not even with Grayson himself.

“How’s Jason?”, Dick offers after a moment of quiet.

Damian shrugs, feigning indifference. He could lie, or say anything else, but he doesn’t see the reason to do hide something that’s not going to be a secret for more than a few days.

“Sitting on Grandfather’s throne, last time I checked.”

It's a pretty hard blow to take, but Damian has to admit that Grayson cashes it with a certain grace.

“Is it true, then?”, Dick only asks. “Is he the new Demon’s Head now?”

“That’s what my mother has decided.”

And what a conversation that had been. Damian had never seen Jason so angry or Talia more unyielding. A clash of titans indeed.

Richard looks at him like he wants to say something but can’t bring himself to do so. Maybe because he doesn’t want to hurt him, maybe because he knows it’s not his place anymore.

“Are you okay with it?”

“He’s the one who killed Grandfather”, Damian answers. “And I owe him enough not to kill him right away to take what's mine, at least.”

In truth he hasn't wanted his grandfather's throne since he was eight years old, but neither Grayson nor Todd need to know that, even if they had probably known even before Damian himself had realized it. He’d still like to keep both of them on their toes, if he can, and Talia would never forgive him for that unnecessary admission of abdication anyway.

Grayson doesn’t answer him right away, instead he kneels down next to Dorsey’s inert form and ties the man’s hands behind his back. He does it slowly, as if it were a difficult task that required a lot of his attention.

“Is it what you think?”, he asks eventually, when the last knots is tied, in a calm and almost curious tone. “That you owe Jason for what he did?”

Damian stiffens, immediately aware of the turn the conversation is going to take. This is what he had always wanted to avoid.

“He saved my life.”

“I know”, Dick answers.

“He saved my life when you and my father refused to.”

It hurts him to say it out loud. He hopes it hurts just the same for Richard to hear it.

Still on his knees, Dick looks up at him with a plea in his eyes.

“Don’t say it. We tried, kiddo. You ought to know that.”

Damian shakes his head, feels the sting of the cut on his neck and the deeper ache down in the pit of his stomach, that quiet rage that still tightens his throat like a knot on fire.

“You were never going to kill Ra’s”, he argues. “Neither one of you has ever even considered the idea.”

“That’s what you think.”

“That’s what I know”, Damian almost yell.

Grayson sits back on his heels, a position of surrender Damian doesn’t really want to see him in right now.

“Todd did what neither of you could”, he continues, cruel and honest. “And I owe him my life for it.”

Dick’s mouth twitches in a grimace that Damian is not able to identify. Could be guilt, could be anger, could be something else entirely.

“Is that what he told you?”, Dick asks.

Damian doesn’t like that implication at all.

“No. He never told me anything about it.”

It’s not completely true. It’s, in fact, a blatant lie. Jason had only spoken about it once, and Damian still remembers what he’d told him. It was his life or yours. It wasn’t a hard choice. And the simplicity of those words was the thing that had hurt him the most, at the time. Because he had known, right here and right there, that it was the same thing he would have done, and just as easily as Jason had done it, if it had been his choice, if it had been Richard’s, or Father’s, or even Todd’s or Drake’s life on the line. He would’ve killed for all of them, but only Jason would - and did - kill for him too.

And even at seventeen Damian had known that that limitations wasn't a proof that they didn't love him enough. They just loved him differently. But that only meant that the problem was not them but him, Damian, and how better solve it than by not leaving? Stay in the court where his Grandfather had dragged him, away from the family that had not come after him, claim the altar where his body had almost been sacrificed to the Demon’s Head glory as his own new throne. Back then it had made more sense to him than the idea to go back, like Jason had wanted him to.

So he’d stayed, and Jason had stayed with him, and Talia had made it work. And it had broke his heart to leave one family for the other, but he’d already learned oh so long ago that he could survive that particular pain, after all. And Talia was not Bruce, and Jason was not Richard, and Alfred was long gone by then, but Cassandra shows up at the new League’s quarters sometimes, and Drake and Brown still call him every now and then, and always, always, on his birthdays.

With Father and Richard there had been no other option but to cut ties, because anything else would’ve just hurt a lot more. And he had known from the very first time he had stolen Jason’s old Red Hood costume, that going around into the world with that helmet on his head was going to keep them away. He had wanted it. And that, he regrets sometimes. All these years gone by in silence, with this affection that still burns his anger to ashes. And all it took was seeing Batman once, for Damian to want to run into Dick’s arms just like he used to do as a kid, to want to see Bruce too, and to feel the warm weight of his father’s hand on his shoulder just one more time.

But a wish is only that, a whim of the imagination, and reality is quite a different thing.

Richard stands up and the Batman’s cape behind him twirls into the wind. Instinctively, Damian takes a step back.

“Stay”, Dick says, and it’s so out of the blue Damian almost believes he’s misheard.

“What?”

“For the night”, Dick adds. “Let’s go home, Bruce will be so happy to-”

“I’m here on a mission”, Damian interrupts him. “And Gotham is not my home anymore.”

When Dick moves again Damian senses immediately what's about to happen. So he raises his hand to ask for one more moment of truce.

“If you try to stop me, we’ll have to fight”, he starts. “And whatever way it ends, I can promise it won't end the way you want it to.”

He can see the struggle behind Richard’s eyes, he can actually feel it like it were his own, and in some ways it is. Damian’s always had very few certainties in life, but Grayson’s love had always been one of those. He knows exactly how much his brother’s hurting right now, he knows what his instincts are yelling, what he wants to do, the things he wants to say. Because this fracture between them is not beyond repair, and they both know it. But what would a fight and then forgiveness bring at this point? Nothing but more pain.

And Dick knows this too, and that’s why he pulls the cowl back over his eyes.

“Say hello to Jason for me”, he says, as he lifts up the unconscious man over his shoulder.

“Will do”, Damian agrees.

He watches him jump then, and follows him with his eyes for a minute or two. It doesn't escape his attention that Batman doesn't tie up Dorsey with the other men - left in plain sight near their missed heist for the police to find - but that he pushes him inside of the Batmobile instead. Damian knows Grayson’s going to interrogate him, and he knows Dorsey will talk. It doesn’t matter. There’s no way they can stop them now, and ultimately, there’s no reason either for them to meddle with League’s business anymore.

He picks up the red helmet and pulls it over his head, hiding his face again.

It’s time to go back home.

[unavenged-robin]

What if you drew your fashionable demon child with the fashion icon of the batfamily, discowing himself?

Damian doesn’t think he’s that fashionable