#B imagine what the kid is gonna think when bruce wayne asks him how he is alive but batman watched him die.

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Danny as Fenton takes a hit that no human boy should survive while in a different city (im going crossover here) and just transforms into phantom and pretends to be all sad that he died. Just for a moment. He then proceeds to kick the baddies ass. Claims he got ghost powers and fucks off. Imagine if Captain America or Batman saw this while failing ti protect him, hell or any hero type. Danny doesn’t think much on it and just goes on with his week. Continues being Fenton of course but what if he runs into whatever hero, but out if costume, saw him do that.

“How are you here? And alive?”

Danny holding a smoothie:”uhhhh I made a miraculous recovery”

He just shrugs it off and goes about his day. It isn’t until he finally gets some sleep later that night that he wakes up in a cold sweat realising he now knows their secret identity. “Oh well it’s neat I guess” starts to go back to sleep only to bolt back up “oh god now they know my secret identity”

Meanwhile said hero is too busy trying to figure out how to help this random kid to even be worried about the fact that they outed themselves. Someone else probably points it out to them and has to explain it twice before it gets thru.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Chapter Seven: Trying for Normal (Gifts)

Prev

AO3

“You can not honestly tell me you are thinking of announcing that girl as your daughter.” Damian says, his scowl deeper than Dick had seen it in a while.

“‘That girl’ has a name, Little D. Plus she’s your sister.” Dick says, resisting the urge to nudge him. They had gotten to the point where a small nudge wasn’t a death sentence, but Damian was on edge. And a small nudge would probably not be appreciated.

“I do not care what her name is, Grayson. Since coming to Gotham she has been involved in two separate Rogue attacks. She is suspicious at best, and a nuisance at worst.” He replies, crossing his arms.

“Enough, Damian. Marinette is not a nuisance. She simply has bad luck.” Bruce says, obviously trying to defend his daughter.

“And poor self-preservation skills. Talking back to the Joker? Snarking the Riddler? For an individual with no combat training, she gets much too involved in attacks. It is idiotic.” Damian argues, shaking his head.

“It might have something to do with the Paris situation. She said she’s been at attacks before, so she must have some experience with villains. And from what I read on the Ladyblog, none of the damage in Paris lasts. She just may not realize how dangerous it is for her to do here what she would do in Paris. We just need to warn her, or, at least remind her, that Gotham is a dangerous place.” Dick says, thinking back to her reaction to the Riddler and the Joker. She was definitely more tense with the Joker, despite the fact that both villains had arrived with armed goons. Maybe she thought the Riddler was less likely to kill someone, not true. Or maybe she- Dick frowns as he remembers a key difference between the attacks.

“I just realized something.” He says with a frown.

“Care to share with the rest of the room, Dickiebird?” Jason asks, strolling in and flopping onto a chair.

“She was more tense at the attack with the Joker, she seemed to understand that it was a dangerous situation. Sure, she talked back to him, but she didn’t try to fight back or anything. But at the attack with the Riddler, he wasn’t even targeting her at first. He was targeting the boy she’d been talking to. And she was more reckless, and then she fought back. She fought well, but it was still super dangerous.” Dick rambles, pacing as he explains the predicament.

“Is there a point to this? I feel like I walked in at the wrong time.” Jason calls out from his chair, feet propped up on the table in front of him.

“My point, Jay, is that Marinette has a crush.” Dick says, shuddering at the word like it’s something disgusting. (It is, his sister is too young for crushes and boyfriends).

“Is that why she ran off with him right after the attack?” Jason asks with a smirk. Dick feels his eyes practically shoot out of his head.

“She what!?” He yells, running over to the Batcomputer to look at the security footage from the wax museum. Spots that were targeted frequently, like the wax museum, had their security footage directly linked to the Batcave. Just in case of an emergency or in case an attack happened and they needed an extra set of eyes.

“I’m sure she didn’t do anything that you wouldn’t do.” Jason teases, and Dick pales.

“Shut up, Jason!” He moans, his typing turning frantic as he scrolls through the day’s footage. He stops when he gets to the moments after the battle. When the phones of the French students had all gone off. Frowning, he watches as his sister runs up to the boy and grabs his hand, leaning in and whispering to each other before the two run out of the room. Towards the bathrooms. Oh hell no. Dick scrolls forwards, frowning when they don’t come out in five minutes. Or ten minutes. Huffing, he switches to the cameras aimed at the exits. Surely one of the cameras had to catch the pair leaving the museum. He rewinds it and watches, but...there’s nothing. They don’t leave the bathrooms and they don’t leave the museum. For the rest of the day.

“Has anyone been in contact with her since the attack?” Bruce asks from right beside him, making him jump out of his seat with a yelp.

“I don’t even have her number.” Dick says, resisting the urge to glare at his adoptive father. He might’ve had Marinette’s number had Bruce actually acted like he wanted her to be there for dinner the other day. Instead, he practically ignored her and she left. And now she was missing. Definitely missing, because she never came out of the bathroom at the museum.

“Hello, Marinette? Yes, I apologize for calling so suddenly. I was- yes. Yes, I did hear about the attack….yes, that was part of the reason I was calling. I was wondering if you would like to come to dinner at the manor. You could bring your friend, Adrien Agreste, I believe was his name. Of course. Yes. Oh no, I’ll send a car. No, no I assure you it- Marinette please. Taxis aren’t always safe after dark. Thank you. Yes, I- we’ll see you then. Goodbye.” Bruce hangs up, and Dick looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Just gonna suddenly invite her and her boy toy to dinner, B? What’re you gonna do, interrogate them?” He asks frowning.

“That’s the second time that Marinette has ran off after that alarm. I’ve seen videos of the situation in Paris and I’m concerned. Now go upstairs and act normal. I want all of you on your best behaviors at dinner. Damian, better than best please. No weapons.” Bruce directs before leaving the room, presumably to ask Alfred to pick up Marinette. Dick sighs and looks at his brothers.

“Well this isn’t going to be a disaster or anything.” He says. --- “Tikki this is going to be a disaster!” Marinette whines, throwing herself face first onto the bed. She tries to ignore Tikki’s amused giggle. This was not funny. This was dinner with her family that she hadn’t made a great impression on the first time. And Adrien was invited, and she wasn’t sure where the two stood but she was sure that if Dick was at dinner, he would just push Adrien farther away from her.

“I could practically hear your suffering from Adrien’s room, pigtails.” Plagg says, making Marinette sit up and glare at the Kwami.

“Are you just here to mock me?” She asks, pouting. He snorts.

“No, I’m here to tell you the kid’s on his way over here. I told him you were panicking and he practically ran out his door.” Plagg says with a chuckle. Rapid knocking on the door makes him laugh more before dropping onto the bed next to Tikki. Marinette sighs, rolling off the bed and pulling the door open, jumping forward in time to catch Adrien before he completely falls to the ground.

“Are you okay? Plagg said you were panicking, did something happen?” He asks quickly, looking her up and down. Marinette blinks, slightly taken aback by his sudden concern. It was nice, but still a lot all at once. Shaking her head, she gestures for him to come in and shuts the door behind him. Walking back over to the bed, she once again face plants and groans.

“She’s nervous because Mr. Wayne invited the two of you to dinner.” Tikki chirps, giggling when Marinette lifts her head up enough to glare at her.

“Traitor.” She says, dropping her head back down.

“If you don’t want me to go with Marinette, I won’t.” Adrien says. Marinette immediately jumps up, shaking her head rapidly.

“No, no that’s not what I meant. I just- I’m nervous about actually sitting through a dinner with them. And I’m pretty sure Dick will try and sit between us and glare at you like he did at the museum.” She admits, cursing the way her cheeks heat up. Adrien raises an eyebrow.

“He was glaring at me?” He asks, utter confusion on his face. Marinette groans, dropping her head into her hands.

“Sometimes your obliviousness is cute-”

“You think I’m cute!”

“But right now, it’s kinda making me want to scream into my pillow.” Marinette admits, giving him her signature “not amused” look. A look she usually saves for when Chat Noir is making a pun.

“Wait, why wouldn’t Dick like me?” Adrien asks, thankfully stuck on that now instead of the fact that she thinks he’s cute.

“Um, maybe because we were holding hands? Did you really not notice how he kept standing in between us the entire time we were at the museum?” Marinette asks, suddenly unsure if she’d imagined the whole thing.

“Oh no, I did. I just didn’t think it meant he didn’t like me. I’ve never really dealt with siblings before. I mean, I’ve met Nino’s little brother but...that’s about it.” Adrien says, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. Marinette sighs, grinning softly.

“I don’t really have a lot of experience either, so maybe I was just imagining things.” She admits. Adrien’s shoulders instantly relax and she smiles. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“So, did you want me to come with?” He asks after a moment of silence. Marinette nods, agreeing immediately.

“Please. I don’t think I can go back there alone, not yet anyway.”

“Of course, Mari. Now, what’re you wearing?” --- The ride to Wayne Manor wasn’t as quiet as her first, with Adrien making quiet jokes and saying things to try and help keep Marinette out of her head. She was thankful that he had come with, because she was definitely going to need the emotional support to get through dinner. The car stops and Marinette sucks in a deep breath. Smoothing out her skirt nervously, Marinette glances at the small, neatly wrapped package sitting between her and Adrien. It was something she had started back when she first found out she was adopted. And that her parents didn’t know her bio dad. A scrapbook with copies of everything important from her life: baby pictures, school pictures, birth announcement, report cards, clippings from newspapers where she had won or placed in contests, pictures of her early designs and recent designs, pictures of certificates and trophies from various competitions and activities. Basically a road map of her life to be given to her bio dad so that he could get to know her. She’d written her name on the front page, with the words “daughter of Bruce Wayne and Bridgette Le” underneath. A sort of amendment to her birth announcement which listed her as the daughter of Tom and Sabine Dupain Cheng. And while she definitely was their daughter, she also wanted Mr. Wayne to know that she wanted to be his daughter too. Not just by blood, which isn’t the important part. No, she wanted to get to know him and for him to get to know her. Pushing down the intruding thoughts insisting that it was too soon and that he didn’t want her in the first place, she opens the car door and steps out, clutching the package to her chest like a safety blanket.

“Would you like me to take that for you, Miss Marinette?” Alfred asks, glancing at the package.

“Oh, no thank you Alfred. It’s for my da- er, um, Mr. Wayne. I can hang onto it.” She says with a bright smile. She could do this. Sure, it didn’t go great the last time she was here. And she was pretty sure Mr. Wayne’s youngest son could kill her and wanted to kill her. But it was fine. Everything is fine. Walking through the front door, her shoulders relax slightly when she sees Dick is the only one standing there waiting for them.

“Marinette! He cheers, rushing forward and picking her up in a hug. As in, legitimately picking her up. Okay then.

“Good to see you too.” She says, trying not to show that he’s literally suffocating her with the hug.

“Good to see you again, Dick!” Adrien says cheerfully. Marinette feels Dick tense before setting her down, his smile less bright as he looks at Adrien.

“And you. Adrien, right?” He asks, sticking his hand out for a handshake.

“Yup!” Adrien says cheerfully. Marinette watches cautiously, noticing that Dick seems to be squeezing a little too hard….and then Adrien appears to match his strength, if the look on Dick’s face is anything to go by. Marinette coughs to hide a snort, her face heating up as both boys turn to look at her.

“Uh, is it just you and Mr. Wayne tonight?” Marinette asks, choosing to ignore their awkward handshake.

“Nope! It’s me and Bruce and Alfred, of course, and Jay and Tim and Damian and Cass. Steph’s not in town and Babs is having dinner with her dad.” Dick says, and Marinette’s eyes widen. There were a lot more people in her bio dad’s family than she thought. She knew about the boys, but she hadn’t seen anything about Cass, Steph or ‘Babs’.

“I didn’t realize I had sisters too.” She says instead of voicing her insecurities. Before she only had the boys to measure up against, now she had three girls too?

“Well, the only official sister is Cass. Steph used to date Tim and she just kinda stuck around. She’s practically family at this point. And Babs and I used to date, but again, she stuck around after and now she’s practically family.” Dick explains with a grin and a shrug. Cause having your exes around isn’t awkward. Or, maybe it isn’t. She doesn’t have any exes to compare it to. Just as she starts to get lost in her thoughts, she feels Adrien brush against her gently. Reminding her that he’s there, for her, giving her the strength she needs to follow Dick into the living room. Where everyone else was sitting. Oh boy.

“Marinette, so glad you could join us. And Mr. Agreste, nice to see you again.” Bruce says, standing from his spot and moving to shake Adrien’s hand.

“You as well, M. Wayne. And please, call me Adrien. Mr. Agreste is my father.” He says, and Marinette can just barely see his wince. His father always had been his least favorite subject, no matter how much or how little they spoke of him.

“Thanks for inviting us.” Marinette says, moving the package so that she’s no longer clutching it like a lifeline. Holding it out to Mr. Wayne, she laughs at his confused face. “It’s a present.” She adds.

“Oh, well, thank you.” He says, his face unreadable. Marinette shifts her weight, glancing between him and the package, waiting for him to open it. Or properly introduce her to the rest of the family. Either option would work at this point. Glancing at Dick, she sighs in relief when he claps. At least someone was going to make the first move.

“Right, so I don’t think you got the chance to meet Jason and Damian properly when you were here the other day.” Dick says, tugging her around a still frozen Bruce in front of the two boys from the other day.

“No, I didn’t. Hi, I’m Marinette.” She says, smiling and holding out a hand to Damian first. He tuts and turns away, making Marinette’s smile fall slightly before she turns to Jason. Jason grins and shakes her hand.

“Welcome to the family, kid.” He says, before whistling. “You didn’t get B’s height, that’s for sure.” He teases, Marinette snorts, her smile turning into a teasing smirk.

“Hey, don’t count me out for my height. Ever heard the phrase, small but mighty?” She asks, crossing her arms. Jason snorts, reaching out and messing up her hair.

“Whatever you say, Pixie Pop.” He replies. She rolls her eyes and turns to the other two siblings she hadn’t met.

“Hi, you must be Tim and Cass.” She says, smiling at both of them. Tim nods, his hand twitching towards his pocket. Marinette tries not to laugh, having seen Max do the same thing when he had to socialize for any amount of time. The boy was always far more comfortable with his phone in his hand, even if he wasn’t actually looking at it. Cass smiles, and Marinette notices her hands moving. “Sorry, could you repeat that, I wasn’t watching closely.” She says. Cass’ smile widens and she nods before starting over.

“Welcome to family. Nice to meet you.” Cass signs, making Marinette beam.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” She says, eyes widening when she realizes she left Adrien alone with a frozen Mr. Wayne. Whirling around, she moved back to Adrien and tugged him forward, rolling her eyes at his surprised yelp. Honestly, he should expect this by now.

“Geeze, Princess. Give a man a warning.” He says, adjusting his shirt that she’d accidentally messed up.

“Sorry k- Adrien. Sorry. Anyway, uh, everyone this is my friend Adrien Agreste. Adrien this is Jason, Damian, Tim, Cass and you already know Dick.” Marinette introduces, gesturing to each of her new siblings. Adrien shoots a wide smile, not quite his model smile but also not quite a real one.

“Nice to meet you all.” He says.

“Marinette, I apologize. Did you want me to open this now?” Mr. Wayne asks suddenly. She turns and raises an eyebrow at his unreadable expression and the way he holds onto the present like he doesn’t know what to expect. Which is fair, considering they’d only met in person the day before.

“Oh, um, if you want to. It’s nothing big.” She says, watching nervously as he nods and unwraps it. His eyebrows twitch together as he looks at the book, obviously not yet understanding.

“Open it, B.” Dick whispers, clearly understanding the gift more than their father. Mr. Wayne nods and opens it, his unreadable expression falling into one that she...still can’t read. But it’s not emotionless anymore. As he flips through the book, a small smile creeps its way onto his face and Marinette almost cheers. That’s the most sincere look she’d ever seen on the man.

“Did you put all this together?” He asks, glancing up from the book to look at her. Marinette nods.

“When I found out I was adopted, I wanted to have something to give my bio dad. So that even if he didn’t want to see me in person, he could get to know me. When I found out you’re my, um, dad, I added some personal touches.” She says.

“And I can keep this?” He asks, and Marinette’s shocked that he sounds almost scared. As if he thinks she’ll say no and take everything back. She smiles.

“Of course. My Maman and Papa already have those pictures. These are all yours.” She says.

“Thank you, Marinette. I- This is an amazing gift.” He says. Marinette’s smile widens and her shoulders sag in relief. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a disaster after all.

Next

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @imarivers8 @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks

[elise-51-blog]

From a Kite Man WIP ("Good Grief") so long behind, I'm in a rut but here is a bit I'm tinkering with between Jason and Bruce #angst but ultimately #familyfeels

[[Jason has witnessed Bruce in a conversation with Chuck Brown (Kite Man) in a bar, chatting with him as Bruce Wayne, talking about their sons. Only, B knows that Chuck's son, Charlie, was killed by the Riddler (cf. Tom King's 'War of Jokes and Riddles'). Jason has a few words to say to Bruce about the bizarre strategy of talking to a rogue about his dead son as if that dead son had not been murdered. Bruce has some reasons, more human than Jason suspects.]]

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

“I wanted him to--to say Charlie’s name. To be able to say his son’s name. Out loud. In the present tense. I wanted him to have that.”

“A delusion," Jason growls.

“A benediction.”

“Why?”

“Because it is what got me through when nothing else would.”

“Pretending. Pretending it didn't happen.”

“No.”

“Well that explains why Joker’s still breathing. Insteada doin’ somethin’ about it, you just chose to fucking forget I ever--”

“Don’t. You don’t get to suggest--you don’t ever get to suggest something like that. I will never forget. Never. That’s not what I was doing. When I needed it most, I allowed myself a few moments--”

“To pretend I wasn’t murdered.”

“To say your name. To talk to you. And yes. In a way. To imagine you might hear me. What you might say.”

Jason snorts. “That’s fucking sad.”

“Yes, Jason. It is sad. But it is…it is what I had.”

“Talking to a dead kid.”

“Yes. Talking to my son. My dead son. Whom I failed in the worst imaginable way. So when I was alone, and I didn’t want to be anymore, I let myself talk to you. I let myself say your name. I let myself imagine how your day went. The things you were looking forward to. How much you'd put in the swear jar that day.”

“That’s kinda fucked up.”

“Having your son murdered is kinda fucked up.”

“Do you still do that? Talk to me like that?”

“Sometimes.”

“Because I’m still dead to you.”

“Because there are nights when you can’t even stand to look at me. To let me hear your voice. To let me…acknowledge the reality of you. And I find that very difficult. And I want to ask you to let me have those things. But even after all the mistakes I’ve made in my life, Jason, I won’t ever sink so low as to ask you to forgive me for something that is fundamentally unforgivable. So I find myself asking other things instead. In a way I know how.”

“What do you ask me?”

“What you’ve been reading lately. And I ask if you’ve thought about going back to school. And you usually wave me off that road.” Bruce almost smiles. “So then I ask you how you think the Knights are going to do this season. I ask you if you’ve seen your brothers lately, and if you could keep an eye on one another. And I ask if you could stop by and see Alfred soon. Because I know he misses you. He’s not supposed to have favorites, but…I ask you…I ask you if you’re happy. Or if you think you could be.”

“What do I say?”

“You don’t answer me anymore.”

“That’s ‘cos I’m not dead anymore.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” Bruce, unshakeable. “I do know that, Jason. It is beyond words how much I know that. Believe it or not. But you can’t just expect me to forget that you died. I held you. And I buried you. A Father doesn’t just move on from that. It will be with me forever.”

[SKIP more angst here to---]

Jason breaks the silence. “P.G. Wodehouse.”

“Pardon?”

“I’ve been going through P.G. Wodehouse. It’s funny and it’s stupid, and nothing really bad ever happens. And I like lookin’ up all the literary references. And I always think of Alfred. And you, kind of. If everything hadn’t happened with you, maybe you would have just been this dumb himbo like Bertie. Bertie’s Brucie, basically. It makes me laugh.”

[Bruce hasn’t seen/heard Jason really laugh since before his death]

“Alfred used to read those to me too. It’s been years.”

“Yeah. You should check ‘em out again.”

“I will.”

“You could ask me those things, you know. Actually ask me. I mean, I might tell you to fuck off. I’m still gonna have those days. Sometimes my head gets…” he makes loopy circles around his ear like he's some kind of crazy person. “But, I didn’t know you…I didn’t think you cared about that kind of stuff.”

“I do.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe you could tell me which one to start with. Your favorites.”

“I could text you a list, I guess.”

Bruce nods. “Please.”

“Please?” Jason makes a face. “You’re weirdin’ me out, Old Man.”

Bruce arches an eyebrow, “I could be more of a prick if you’d prefer.”

Jason laughs, surprised. “Shit. I had a whole ‘nother speech all lined up too.”

“Oh, please, I wouldn’t want to miss it--”

“Don’t fuckin push it.”

Bruce bites back a laugh. “I don’t suppose you’d consider dinner--”

Jason edgy, “I'll swing by to see Alf. And. Maybe we’ll talk about a few dates, see what works for him.”

Bruce lays his head down. For once, he feels the prosaic weight of sleep pulling him down into the mattress, limbs pleasantly heavier by the second. And it’s not from a pill, and it’s not from the exhaustion of running himself ragged for weeks at a time. It’s the rare rest you get after ending a day in a way that satisfies something in the soul. Some kind of sated hunger of the heart.

Bruce nods, “Thank you.”

[Bruce goes to bed]

It’ll be gone by tomorrow. And then he’ll have to try all over again.

“Charlie,” he whispers. "Charlie."

[ifliamsmile]

Once Upon a Dream - Dick Grayson Imagine (You'll love me at once, The way you did once upon a dream)

pairing: Dick Grayson x Titan! (Preg!Wifey!Reader)

request¹: When Trigon is controlling Dick, he sees Y / n as his wife instead of Dawn. So he tells Y / n what he saw.

request²: Can you write something about Dick and y/n being pregnant and he is protective over her and the baby? Thanks

notes: I joined these two lovely requests together because I thought they fit pretty well I’m so sorry the delay, I’m back at college and doing both is pretty hard but i did my very best. hope you enjoy it xxxx<3 y/e/c: your eye color

y/n/n: your nickname

“Good dreams, big boy.” I said as I put my son to sleep after telling him all the stories he asked me to. John wasn’t a hard-to-deal kid, he reminded me a lot of myself when I was younger, not the bad things, of course, only the good ones, although I wished he could inherit more of Y/n. Looking back at my past doesn’t make me that proud of who I was, but if I admire someone, it surely is my wife. 

Heading to our bedroom, I entered, immediately locking my eyes for more than a second with a pair of large, Y/E/C eyes set in a pretty face. Y/N was laying down in our bed, reading her book. It didn’t matter how many times I looked at her, she would always look as beautiful as ever. 

“Hey, Boy Wonder.” She greeted me with her specific -and so beloved by me- soft tone of voice.

“Hello, y/n/n” I took my shoes off, sitting in the bed, close to her. Her smell entered my nostrils as I placed a warm kiss on her neck. “How’s our baby and my wife doing?” I caressed her belly, trying to check on our kid as much as I could. Having John four years ago made me way more responsible and careful than I would imagine that I could be someday. Since it, my family had been all I cared for, the hero life didn’t need me as much as they did, or as much as I needed them too. 

“We’re doing fine, he didn’t kick me like yesterday so yes..we’re good for today” she told me with a smile on her face. “But my feet, god, they’re killing me” 

“Well, I think I can help you on this” I told her with a half smile 

“Yeah? Show me how then.” she said and i moved to the end of the bed, sitting with her feet in my laps while i started to massage it.

She left her book on her side, positioning comfortably through the pillows

“I already told you this but..you’re the best husband in the whole world” she said

“I know that, thank you” i said, mocking her 

“You’re so sassy, Grayson” we laughed together. I kept doing the massage for ten minutes when, in a matter of a second, we were interrupted by my phone ringing, showing Jason Todd on it’s screen. He was calling for a video call.

I didn’t talk to Jason for ages, what would he want now? 

I looked at Y/n and she nodded at me, pointing that I should answer and I did. She got back to read her book while I answered his call, but I knew my wife pretty well to know she was still listening.

“Hey, Jay. Long time no see” I said when his face showed up on the screen. He was different, surely not the same Jason I knew 5 years ago.

“Hey, man, not as good as you, I think.” He answered, showing his legs. He was sitting in a wheelchair, I got perplexed. What the hell did happen to him?

“Jason”  I had my hands covering my mouth after passing them through my hair. “What happened?”

“I was stupid. Totally my fault. Riddler and some guys were hitting jewelry stores late at night.” he spoke and I paid attention to every single word “Batman and I staked one out, caught them coming in. Should’ve gone down real simple, but I got too cocky. Big Surprise.” He had his head down, recognizing his mistakes.

“Went straight for him, Though I could take him down on my own. You know the Riddler never uses a gun?” 

I nodded at him, it was true, he never did.

“Well, now he does. Bullet hit on my t5 vertebra. I still have it here.”

“Jesus.. I’m so sorry for that.”

“Gotham’s gotten worse, man” He looked at me “Way fucking worse. Commissioner Gordon’s dead.”

“What?” I was completely astonished by what I heard. How the fuck did Bruce let it happen? 

“Three days ago. It was the joker, and it was bad. When Bruce finally found where he was. It was too late already.” he said “He’s going to kill the joker”

I felt Y/n’s intrigued eyes on me at this point. She knew Bruce almost too much like I did.

“He would never do that. Bruce has a line he’ll never cross” 

“Things have changed, Dick. Alfred Died, I got shot, Commissioner Gordon Died.” Too much information to my own good, I wish I could still be in peace with Yn in bed like I was some minutes ago.

“Why are you telling me all of that now?” I sighed.

“Because you’re the real Robin, man. Not me. He was never the same after you left. Alfred said it. Superman said it. You were the only one he ever listened to. Maybe the only one he cared about after his parents died.” I didn’t answer him this time, it was too much.

“You need to come back to Gotham and convince him not to do it.”

What? Come back to Gotham? 

“I can’t. I swore I’d never go back.I haven’t spoke to Bruce in years”

“The whole thing with Tony Zucco. You know what he’s going through. If he does it, there’s no coming back.” I looked back at him “He’s the only hero that Gotham has left.” he sighed “You’re the only one that could save him” 

He said and hung up, leaving me with innumerable thoughts, innumerable questions.

 I threw my phone at the sofa in front of the bed, getting up and running my hands through my hair. 

I felt a pair of arms hugging me from behind

“Dick.” I heard her voice “I’m here.”

“If bruce wants to do something, he’s gonna do it. We both know that.” I said turning around to look at her.  “He dresses up like a bat to fight crime. That works for him.” I spoke trying to show her my point of view, it was insane what Jason just told me.

“But this idea that I’m the only one that could save him? It’s bullshit.” I complemented, walking side to side in the room while she was looking calmly at me.

“Then, who?” she just asked

“What?” 

“Jim Gordon is dead. Alfred is dead. Barbara’s missing. He fell out with Superman years ago. He’s alone.” She told me, eye to eye.

“He’s always alone, Y/n.”

“Not when you’re around, Dick. How’re you going to feel if you don’t at least try?”

“Bruce Wayne is not my responsibility.” I raised my tone of voice, being hard at what I said. Damn. I knew I had fucked up the minute I said it, so I walked to her.

“I’m sorry.” I hugged her from behind just like she did some minutes ago. “After our baby, if he still hasn’t got shit together, I’ll go. I can’t leave the three of you alone here.” 

“Okay.” She said “Oh my god, Dick, he just kicked, he knows we’re talking about’im”

I smiled and moved my hands to her belly in an attempt to feel our son’s kick’s. It was crazy how much my family meant to me, remembering that I always loved Y/n and now, having a life built with her and calling her “wife” is the most peaceful feeling i’ve ever felt.

Our moment was interrupted by a little figure entering our bedroom. It was John with his sleepy face and his teddybear, “Growley” -which one Gar gave to him on his birthday- and we turned our attention to him.

“Hey buddy, couldn’t sleep?” I asked 

“Growley wants to go with you.” he told me 

“Go where, sweetie?” Y/n asked our older son.

“To Gotham City” He said and I laughed. Did he hear it all?

“Wow. Eavesdropping.” Y/n told me.

“But Growley is your favourite.” 

“He’ll protect you.” John said and left, heading to his room, sleeping again.

“Look honey.” Y/n turned to me, putting a hand on my face and I leaned at her touch, closing my eyes, she always had the power to put my shit together when I couldn’t.

“I know that your relationship with Bruce is more than complicated, and that the last time you saw each other you said some things..But he saved you, Dick.”

“What if you’re the only one who can save him back?” I scoff.

“Baby, that’s absurd.” I told her 

“But what if?” She asked me.

--

The next morning I was ready to take a plane to GC. I called Donna to keep here with Y/n until I got back. The bell rang and she was here. Me and Y/n went to receive our old friend.

“Hey Donn” Y/n greeted her.

“I missed you, sister.” The black haired girl answered my wife.

“Hey crazy chick. It’s good to see you. Thank you for coming.” I told her when she came to hug me.

“No problem, don’t worry, I’ll be taking a real good care of these three”

“I don’t doubt it”

We talked to each other and I was ready to leave.

“I’ll be back in a matter of a second, baby, I promise. I’ll have my phone close every time, call me if you need and i’ll be right back.”

“Dick, I’m the one who should be pretty worried by now, and believe me, I am, so please, take care in every moment of this, right?”

"Come on, it’s me. I’m good at this sort of stuff, remember?" I told her with a cocky smile.

We kissed deeply. I gave John a kiss on his head.

“Take care of your mother and your auntie, alright? That’s your mission.”

“Alright, Dad.” he smiled sweetly at me.

“Donn, call me if she feels anything different from normal, any sight of danger and I'll drop everything on Gotham and I'll be back, deal?” Donna nodded at me.

“You’re everything I have. I love you” I said in my wife’s ear, leaving a kiss on her forehead, and leaving.

--

Gotham was crazy, not the city I knew, the city I left back, this is the closest to hell i’ve ever got to.

I wanted to go back to my family, my pregnant wife, my 4 year old son, my house. But I couldn’t forget that once, Gotham was my home too.

The joker is almost dead. Bruce threw him up from a building and now the police escorted him to a hospital.

I followed to the place that, for a long time, sheltered me. Wayne manor, I needed to talk to Bruce. And I Tried, I told him the joker isn't dead yet and he had a chance to sneak out from darkness. But he didn’t appear so I left.

Although my conscience led me to think I should go back to the better life I chose when I burned my suit, that I should just forget about being Batman’s savior and go back to Y/n, everything kept me stuck on the city. Things happened faster than I could control.

Bruce killed the joker at the hospital. He ran before I could get him, he injured policemen. He didn’t stop at it, he Killed prisoners, nurses, guards. It wasn’t justice, it was a massacre. He couldn’t be saved. He needed to be stopped. I made his name public. 

I drove an operation to get him and he killed all my team.

He wanted me to give in to the darkness. To become him. 

Well, fuck you, Bruce, you win.

I killed Batman.

--

“Dick.” Hands on my face and a voice calling my name, it was all I could understand now.

“Dick, It was all planned by trigon” Rachel was at the batcave, where i killed batman. What was she saying? “Dick, you would never kill batman.”

 “Shut the fuck up” I told her, I had to kill him.

“You’re the boy from the circus, Dick. We’re supposed to save each other.” She said and we were in my parent’s circus. The flying Graysons, my good memories showed up and I woke up.

“I missed you.”

“Rach” I chuckle.

“Welcome back.” She told me and left to find trigon. 

Y/n. Her face filled my mind. Wasn’t it all real? Everything we lived, our home, our son, she was my wife for I don’t know how long and it was all trigon controlling my mind, but still, it felt so real. So good.

I had to find her.

“What’s going on?” Gar appeared with his face pretty much hurted.

“Hey, Gar, I swear I’ll tell you everything later but, where’s Y/n?”

“She’s black eyed, Dick. Outside, Don’t think you should..”

“I will get her back.”

--

When I came outside, all the titans were looking at Trigon and Raven, and I knew her enough to know that she’d deal pretty well with him. I looked at Y/n and she wasn’t awake, so I pulled her by her arm.

I turned her to look at me and she did. 

“Y/n, it’s me, Dick. Wake up.”

“That’s me. The real me.” She had Trigon on her mind still and I needed her back.

“It’s not, I know you, Y/n. I saw you, in my vision, I had you with me so please, come back.”

Our eyes were locked, she seemed to hear what I had said and with no reluctance, she was back, her eyes weren't blacked anymore and she woke up.

“Dick.” she seemed confused. We all were.

“You’re back.” 

I hugged her and she hugged me back, words were never spoken between me and Y/n, although I bet everyone knew about our feelings about each other, I never faced it, until now. I broke the embrace to look at her-

“I had you, Y/n, in my mind, during all the time you were with me and when I faced reality, it was sad that it was only a dream. It made me realize that’s enough of hiding, I need you to keep with me, because I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t and because.. I love you.”

She looked at me as if she couldn’t believe it.

“I’m being completely honest in every word I said.”

“I’m here,  Dick. Kiss me.” She said, surprising me, and I did. 

“I’ve waited for this for so long.” She said when we parted our kiss.

[catxsnow]

NSFW entire alphabet for Bruce Wayne? I love love loooove the posts you've already written but gurl pls you know we're all dying for the whole thing!!! Xoxo

Me: don’t do it girl, it’s not worth it

Also me, to Me: I’m not gonna do it girl, I was just thinking about it

Also me: I did it

This is filth. Pure fucking filth. 18+ only. I made the exception to do the whole alphabet because I’m a Bruce whore, as we know. I hope you sluts enjoy. 

All alphabet requests are closed. 

Bruce x Female!reader. 

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Bruce almost always eats you out after sex. He wants to prolong your orgasm for as long as he possible can. Also, he wants one final taste of your pussy because he doesn't know when he's gonna get another chance. He'll kiss up your body, stopping at any bruise that he left on you before meeting your lips a final time.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

Bruce is a boob guy. He loves watching them bounce up and down as you're riding him. Literally constantly grabbing them sucking them, kissing them, he can't keep away. Always hickies on your chest, you might be adults but he loves to see marks on that he caused in places no one else is allowed to see.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Bruce loves to see his cum drip out of you. More times than not he'll fuck it back in you whether it's with his cock or his fingers. He wants you to take every ounce of him.

His favourite is to come on your chest. And if you lick any of it off he's hard again and ready for another round instantly.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Bruce had to wear a neck brace for a couple days. The company thought that he had a minor car accident and his kids thought that it happened while it was Batman. Truth be told you had been sitting on his face and he had gone a little to hard with it. No one knows the truth besides you. Alfred doesn't bother asking but he knows it didn't happen while he was Batman.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

Experience? Bruce? This man could look at you and make you cum on the spot. Genius, billionaire, playboy means he's got loads of experience. He knows exactly how to make you cum until your shaking. I don't think I can express enough just how much he knows what he's doing. He can and will make you cum over and over again, each time a completely different way than the last.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style. Bruce wants your ass on full display. He'll grip your hard enough to leave faint bruises and slap your ass every time you hold back a moan. The second that your head rests on the pillow, he'll pull you back up (most times by the hair but like not aggressively) so that he can hear every sound you make.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not at all. Bruce is so serious all the time and that is upheld in the bedroom too. He's far too focused on giving and receiving pleasure to goof off (not that he ever does anyways). However, when the two of you are finished and settled down for the night, he relaxes more and occasionally he'll be more humorous.

H = Harmony (do they like music in the background?)

Nope. Bruce wants your moans and whines to echo off his walls. He wants to hear nothing else but the sounds coming from you. It shows just how well he's dicking you down and he fucking loves it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Bruce can be romantic if he wants to. There'll be the occasional night where he plans for a romantic evening but a majority of the time, he's not. Bruce fucks, he doesn't make love very often.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Bruce isn't cruel to you very often, but there is the occasion where he takes his teasing nearly too far. Bruce would have your hands tied up so you can't touch yourself or him. You were being bad, very bad. Instead of one of his favourite punishments of spanking or orgasm denial, he decided to do something completely unexpected.

Bruce made you watch as he pleasured himself. He was moaning out your name and how much he wished that it was your lips on his cock instead of his hand. You strained against your restraints to try and break free and touch him. "I can see you dripping from here and I'm not even touching you."

He gets himself off and only lets you touch him for the sole reason that you can swallow his load. Pure torture not being able to help him get off.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Am I allowed to say that he has a daddy kink? Because like... he does. Bruce fucks you harder and faster if you call him daddy. He'll take you from behind and pound you so hard into your bed that you're seeing stars. Oh my god if you say you've been bad? Bruce is spanking you for what feels like decades.

Bondage kink 100% Selina knows this very well. He ties your hands to his bed frame and its torture not being able to touch him.

Choking

He's down for a threesome if you are.

Bruce has so many kinks

cockwarming oh yeah that's a thing

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bruce doesn't have a favourite. He's got dozens and dozens of rooms in his Manor and you've fucked in almost every single one of them. However, the batcave was probably the most memorable.

Bruce was overworking himself and you were begging him to come back to bed. The only way to get his focus off the screen was by sucking his dick. He tried to hold out but the second he looked down at you and your eyes were brimmed with tears from taking him so deep, he had lost it. Talk about a fuck fest down there. Against the computers, the batmobile, smudges of your body left on the glass casing of where his suit was held. Literally everywhere down there.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you lick your lips, he's done for. You do it out in public all the time and it drives him crazy. All he can think about is your lips on his cock and how badly he needs you.

Begging. Bruce thinks it's so fucking hot if you're begging for his cock. He loves to know that you need him that bad that you're willing to plead.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

I honestly think it takes a lot to turn him off. He needs you to be vocal otherwise he assumes that you're not enjoying yourself. He doesn't like the idea of anything ridiculous in bed, but he's always willing to experiment. The two of you have had lengthy conversations of things that you both want to try sometime in the future.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He has an equal like towards receiving and giving. Bruce is immaculate at eating pussy. He will get you into a hot mess in a matter of minutes. And when he's got a mix of fingering and sucking? That's it. Bruce has you undone in record time. Oh my god and when he wants you to sit on his face? You have to grip the headboard or you're not staying upright.

Only if you're down, Bruce loves to fuck your mouth. He'll have you laying on you back at the edge of his bed and he'll go off. He'll never force you to do it if you don't want to.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Bruce knows hard. He doesn't care if he's going fast or slow, as long as he feels the snap of his hips against yours that's what matters. The position always depends on the speed for him. Doggy? Fast. When you're riding him? He likes to take it slow. The side spoon fuck? He's more worried about the perfect angle inside you than the speed.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Bruce loves them. He's a busy man so even if he's only got ten minutes to fuck you he will. Quickies are a mandatory and he'll take them as often as he can. There’s occasions that he tried to make you cum in record time, just to see how many minutes he can get it down to. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Bruce is always willing to try new things. He doesn't like anything too crazy, but he certainly open to a lot of wild things. He's always taking risks. The most recent had been at WE you had stopped by for lunch and ended up giving him a blow job under his desk. When one of the executives walked in, you didn't stop and Bruce nearly blew your cover.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Bruce lasts as many rounds as you want. However, as he got older, he can't keep up like he was when he was twenty. He'll break in between rounds with giving you oral. He might not be able to go as many rounds, but each one lasts a ridiculous amount of time. Bruce doesn't want the feeling of his cock in you to stop so he drags it out for as long as he possibly can (when he's got the time).

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Bruce is rich enough to own every single toy that you can imagine. I like to think he also pulled a fifty-shades at one point and has entire room dedicated to them but that's just above expectations.

All in all, Bruce loves in incorporate some kind of toys in bed. His favourite is definitely the cuffs and blindfold though. When he takes those out you know your up for a long night of teasing. He'll use sensory deprivation to keep you going for hours.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Bruce teases you constantly - and in public. He's got a ridiculously bad habit running his hand up your skirt or dress to finger you under the table. He knows you can't say anything or make a scene. He loves to see how wet you get when you're surrounded by people. He'll never bring you close enough to an orgasm but he knows that he's going to be in for a long night afterwards.

Oh god he's the biggest fan of orgasm denial. Bruce will bring you to the brink over and over again but never letting you cum. He wants to see you begging and pleading for his cock. When he finally lets you cum, you're seeing spots at how fucking amazing it is.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not super loud. Bruce mostly makes grunts, mutters your name and 'fuck'. He likes the room to fill with your noises, not his. He knows he likes to hear you, so he always assume that you want to know exactly how he's feeling too. He’s got the filthiest dirty talk.

"Fuck baby your pussy takes my cock so well"

"Look at you, you're dripping"

"I'm gonna fuck you until you're legs are shaking. Until your pussy is clenching around my cock and you can't take the fucking pleasure anymore"

"Mmm, fuck you look so hot with my cock in your mouth. Look at those pretty lips taking me so well"

"You can take it, I know you can fucking take another one. Cum on my fingers one more time"

Okay I need to stop I'm getting horny writing these.

"You're gonna ride my face like a good girl and you'r not gonna move until I tell you" Okay last one.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

At one of his gala's, Bruce saw you dancing with another man who had been far too grabby with you. He knew that you didn't want to be in that situation so he pulled you out of it. However, instead of dancing with you himself, Bruce pulled you into the nearest empty room to fuck you. He had you bent over the desk and your dress hiked up. The dirty words he whispered in your ear got you so fucking horny that you were ready to call the rest of the night just so he could keep pounding his cock deep inside you. He gets jealous very easily and he just hoped that the man knew exactly what you two were up to.

X = X-marks the spot (where's their favourite place to give/receive hickies)

Bruce only ever leaves hickies on your tits where only he can sees it. However, he does love to see faint little bruises on your thighs. He doesn't ever want to hurt you, but if he see's little imprints of where his fingers were gripping you, he get's horny all over again. When he sees those, he knows he was fucking you real good.

His favourite place to receive hickies is right below his jawline. He's so sensitive there that whenever you nip at it, he feels a jolt of pleasure. You don't leave them very often, being the biggest business man in Gotham and all.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high. Bruce has been having a lot of sex his whole life. Being away for you for Justice League missions drives him crazy. He gets grumpy (more than usual) when he hasn't tasted your pussy in a while.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pretty quick. When you guys have been fucking for a long time, he uses up all his energy and he's wiped. However, he always tries to make sure that you're at least half asleep before he passes out completely in case you need anything.

[animemangasoul]

Tim & Jason Becoming a "We"

Summery: Tim and Jason become a unit and are each other's backup, always.

Tim doesn’t know how, doesn’t know when, but time flies, their world bleeds together and suddenly, Tim can’t really imagine a future where his previously estranged brother doesn’t fit like a puzzle next to him.

It’s like having a perfect match in everything.  

Someone who isn’t you but understands you. Someone who seamlessly connects with you in a way that lifts the weight of the earth of your shoulders and Tim stops thinking of them as Tim and Jason and starts seeing them as “we”. Because they are in this together. In a family that isn’t quite comfortable with either of them, in a family that is a ghost of what it used to be, in a family where either of them feels the stinging feeling of betrayal like a blemish against their skin. Their plight becomes a “we” and their struggles becomes an “us.”

-------

They are flying across the sky, Jason only slightly ahead of him, and Tim doing his best to keep up while avoiding jolting his side too much because, ouch, he winces, hand coming up to rest on his ribs as he takes another swing across the rooftop and stumbles after Jason. He really should have readjusted the bindings before he’d thrown himself into the air tonight, but alas, it couldn’t be helped now.  

Another Arkham breakout had brought the whole family together tonight and Tim couldn’t afford to step down, especially since they were already shorthanded with Cass being in China and Duke off world. Tim had to step up, because he knew that he was needed. And Tim would always be there when he was needed.  

Bruce voice crackles through their earpiece as soon as he lands next to Jason who’d stopped to wait for him. Tim doesn’t know whether he should feel insulted or appreciative of the gesture. He settles on a nod; Jason answers him with a tilt of his head. Before he then follows it up with a slight twitch of his shoulder meant to ask a silent question. Tim shakes his head. ‘No,'  he communicates with that gesture. ‘I don’t want to talk. Stop worrying.’ His brother shrugs and turns away.  

“Red Hood, Red Robin, come in.”

Pressing on his earpiece, Tim settled more comfortable on the roof; shifting his leg and allowing some of the pressure to shift away from his injured side before speaking. “Here Batman. Where to?”

“Two Face has been spotted near your area, so I need you to cut through the construction site and corner him by the warehouse on fifth.” Their father’s voice sounds blank, but Tim can hear the underlying frustration, aggression and urgency behind the lack of emotions.

Tim stills. Eyes darting over to Red Hood before speaking again. “The construction site?”

“Yes,” Batman snaps. “Is that a problem Red Robin?”

“It is,” Jason cuts in before Tim can answer. “I’ve been keeping an eye on that site and a weapons deal is supposed to take place there later tonight and if we bust through it now I’ll miss my chance to solve my case. I case I’ve been working on for weeks if you can bother to remember.”

A pause, and then. “We don’t have time to be worried about your other cases right now Hood. Cut through the construction site.....”

Bruce keeps talking, but Tim isn’t paying attention anymore. His eyes are focused on the clenching and unclenching of Jason’s fists and yeah.... Bruce shouldn’t have said that. This case, it had kept Jason up for days, little girls had died and... Two Face was dangerous but--

“Batman,” Tim said; finger pressed against his cowl. “We’re taking the north street and swinging in from behind. It should get us there in around the same time.”

“Red Robin!”

But Tim isn’t focusing on him. His eyes squarely resting on his brother. “We got this Batman. Reds out.”

Turning off the com he breathes out slowly.

He didn’t like to defy Batman. Didn’t like to step on toes. Didn’t want to rock the boat, but.... Jason needed backup and Tim was his backup. Always.

“Let’s go,” he says, sprinting across the roof and jumping over the edge. It takes a second, but he hears the heavy boots of his brother following his footsteps. “Can’t believe you just hung up on Batman,” Jason snorts. Tim can barely hear him through the coms. “Now let’s kick some ass.”

Tim grins.  

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

The dinner table is surprisingly noisy today. Most of the family somehow having been able to make their way upstairs after a heavy night out and if it wasn’t for the bump and bruises all around, the noise would have probably been twice as loud.

“Hey,” Dick screamed from the other side of the table. “Someone pass me the ketchup!”

Grimacing, Jason picked up the bottle and shucked it at the other man, Dick gracefully snatching it out of the air and grinning at him smugly. “You’re disgusting,” Jason huffed, staring in horror as Dick proceeded to gleefully add a generous amount of ketchup on his pasta. “Disgusting.”

“You only say that cuz you haven’t tasted this art!”

Shaking his head, Jason picks up his own fork and proceeds to eat his exasperation away, because.... yeah, Alfred’s pasta was delicious and sure they were all eating at like five in the morning, but a vigilante's schedule was never set in a healthy routine, so this was fine. This was perfect.  

Shooting a quick look at the teen sitting next to him, Jason frowned; mouth stuffed full but eyes observing the too quiet figure that was Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne. The kid had been oddly out of it lately, and Jason didn’t like it.  

Didn’t like it one bit.  

Nudging the other ever so slightly, Jason lifts a brow when Tim finally meets his gaze. The heavy bags under the kid’s eyes a serious cause for concern and Jason finds himself mimicking the other’s expression, the frown deepening when all the other does is give him a pathetic attempt at a smile.  

Not ok at all.

“So,” Dick says loudly, momentarily forcing Jason to look away from the kid. “You’re all coming to our annual family dinner tomorrow right?”  

His grin is huge and for some mystical reason doesn’t take away from his charm despite the smear of ketchup at the left corner of his mouth. “I know we’re all busy, but it will be good to be together under the same roof without being forced to. Plus,” he adds, practically bouncing on his seat. “Dami is coming back from his camping trip so we can all finally just be a family!”

There is an echo of tired confirmation all around the table, brightening Dick more and more as no one puts up much of a fight. Stephanie just shrugging in a silent agreement next to his overhyped brother and Bruce smiling slightly at his oldest son, the others only nodding along, but it’s more than anyone has agreed to in a very long time and Jason finds himself not minding at all. In fact, “What about you Jason?”

“Sure,” he says, fork at his lips. “I think we can make it.”

“We?”

Dick sounds confused.

Jason only nods. “Yeah, me and Timbo over here.” Finally looking back at his baby brother, he suddenly notices the new stiffness that has reshaped the replacement’s frame. Now he looks even more pale, even more sickly, and Jason worries his lip. This doesn’t look good.

“Oh,” Dick says. “Right! Timmy! I almost forgot you were here! You’re so quiet lately!” A laugh.  

Dick doesn’t see Tim flinch.

Jason does.

And nop, not gonna let that one stand. Jason hadn’t worked his ass off to make the idiot come into himself just for dickhead to bring it all down with an ill-timed humor that hit too close to home. Nop.

“You know what,” he says, fork clanging on the plate as Jason stands up. “I forget that we had other plans. Sorry Dick, but me and the replacement will have to bail on you tomorrow.”

He watches as Dick’s face falls and he feels something like satisfaction pulse through his veins. He does his best not to show it. Instead grabbing a confused Tim be the elbow and dragging him up. “We have that case thing in Hawaii that we need to take care of.” Tim looks utterly confused. Jason doesn’t care. “So next time?”

“I....” Dick looks between them, something like a shadow passing through his eyes when Tim unconsciously leans on him, a small sigh of contentment escaping his lips. “You sure you can’t make it Timmy?”

Tim blinks slowly down at their brother, shoulders going rigged under Jason’s arm. “Yeah, sorry Dick. We have that case... that really important case and.... Say hi to Damian for me.”

The demon spawn.

Jason doesn’t know how in God’s given earth Goldie still hadn’t realized that Tim would do anything not to be in the same room as that kid. Could one person be that oblivious?

“Are you sure kiddo? Dami would really like to see you. He misses you?”

And.... yup. One person could really be that oblivious. “We’re leaving,” Jason huffs. Dragging his replacement behind him as he snatched up his gun from the corner table and only pauses slightly for Tim to pick up his computer bag before he leads the other out the dining hall and through the rest of the house before exiting the door. Not even turning around to acknowledge Bruce’s command to stay till dinner was over.

Tim needed backup. Jason was his backup.

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

“We didn’t do it.”

Bruce’s glare turns towards him. Tim tries not to flinch. “We didn’t do it,” he repeats, his stubborn streak flaring up as he feels slightly corned by the looming figure. “We didn’t.”

“I wasn’t talking to you Tim.”

“I know,” he says, scooting forward in his chair so that he can more comfortably hold Jason’s hand. Jason who is practically glowering at their father.  

“Then don’t speak for your brother.”

Tim is glaring now. “I’m not speaking for him. I’m just telling you that we didn’t do it because I was there. I wouldn’t lie about Jason killing someone Bruce!”

“He shot him!”

“Because the shitbag fucking shot at us! What the fuck B!” If Jason didn’t have a sizable hole in his shoulder Tim was sure he would have flung himself at Bruce by now. “What did you want us to do huh? Die?”

Bruce frowned. “Of course not.”

Shaking his head, Tim tried not to sigh, squeezing Jason’s hands reassuringly instead. “We didn’t kill him Bruce. I promise. It was a nonfatal shot anyways. He couldn’t have died from that.”

“But he is dead. Whether you like it or not Jason has broken his promise and---”

“But he didn’t kill him!”

Batman glares. “He should have been more careful. I’ve trained him better than that. He knew what he was doing and---”

“And what!”

Tim is mirroring Bruce’s glare now.

“Jason can’t continue to operate thinking he’s above consequences Tim.”

And.... Tim is on his feet in a second. He doesn’t know why he reacts like this..... No, he knows exactly why because... “What suit would you have picked out?” He is so so angry.  

“What?” Bruce doesn’t show it, but a mild confusion tilts through his tone, and Tim lashes out.

“I said which suit would you have picked out? For our funeral I mean.” Even Jason is looking at him now. A stunned surprise mirroring Bruce’s own painting his face, but Tim doesn’t spare him a glance. Doesn’t spare anyone else in the room a look. Eyes squarely focused on their shocked father.  

“After we died by the docks and you eventually found our bloating bodies floating in the dirty Gotham waters, which suit would you have picked out? Because that’s what would have happened if Jason hadn’t shot that man. We would be dead Bruce! So, maybe stop trying to equate our lives to your moral code! And just be happy we didn’t die for once in your life!”

Silence.

Tim is breathing heavily, eyes refusing to leave Bruce’s own, but he still feels the flush of embarrassment burn at his cheeks because... wow, he’d just screamed at Bruce and.... Jason squeezes his hand. Tearing his gaze away from his statue of a father, Tim’s eyes connect with his brother, and Jason squeezes his hand again, giving him a tiny smile and.... yeah.

Sitting back down, Tim fiddles with the other’s fingers until Bruce spins around and marches out of the cave. And yeah.... Tim would fight anyone for Jason, because Jason and him. They were a unit. A team. A “We.”

They had each other’s backs, because they chose to, because they needed to, because they wanted to. And Tim didn’t mind being a “we” with Jason if that meant he’d always have backup in the form of his favorite big brother.  

----------

Dick holds up a chocolate chip cookie to Tim and Jason slaps it out of his hand.

“What the-” Dick says, startled as he watches the cookie fly out of his hand and hit the ground. “What did you do that for?” he asks, turning on Jason.  

Shifting his sunglasses, Jason stares up at the bright blue sky before shrugging at Goldie. “We don’t like chocolate chip anymore.”

“What?”

Even Damian is giving him a weird look now, the four of them finally hanging out after forever of Dick begging and threatening them to do something together outside of work.  

Tim snorts.

“You heard what I said,” Jason huffs, fishing a butter cookie out of his own bag and handing it over to Tim who takes it without a protest. “We don’t eat chocolate chip anymore.”

“I literally saw Tim eat it yesterday!”

Jason scoffs and Tim has tears in his eyes trying not to laugh. “That was yesterday Goldie. Get with the times.”

The end

Notes:

@miss-choco-chips​ I got inspired by your fic (especially that Jason and Tim part) so I wrote you this in turn. It’s more fluff and isn’t funny at all but I’m sending you soft emotions your way!!! Since tim and jason are our favs ;)

@throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen​ Sending fluff your way as well!! Hope you like it. We’re are currently on hiatus of torturing tim sooooo happy moments it’s what we’re writing lol.

[chronicbatfictioner]

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 13

"Grayson? Are you awake?" the tiny little voice was unmistakably scared. The Court has trained Dick more than enough to recognize fear in a human being, and complimented on his natural ability to read people. If asked, he would say that children would be the easiest to read.

Except for Damian.

According to Jason, Damian has been trained by his mother and grandfather, and a plethora of trainers, to eventually take the mantle of the Demon Head from Ra's Al Ghul. His trainers, including Jason, have joked that it might take a while; because Ra's was believed to be an immortal. He has the magic fountain of youth called the Lazarus Pit that could even revive the dead and has been using it in the past 300+ years. Or so the lore said.

Behind Damian's back, Jason has also told them that both Ra's and Talia were decapitated and their heads were missing. The Lazarus Pit might be able to revive the dead, except it required the important organs of the body to be intact; e.g. head, heart, lungs, etc. Dick reckoned that the heads were removed exactly to prevent the use of the Lazarus Pit.

"You need something, buddy?" Dick replied.

"Not at the moment, thank you," Damian replied, taking a seat next to Dick's station next to the door. "I can't sleep." he admitted.

"Nervous for tomorrow?"

Tomorrow they were going to the Wayne Manor, through a convoluted route that Tim has come up in order to avoid detection by anyone who might want Damian to a. not meet his father or b. kill him to take full control of the League of Assassin. Yeah, neither scenario appealed to Dick, but the little voice in his head said that scenario b might be preferable than scenario a.

Dick never understood men who denied their children of their presence. He remembered his dad, a poor circus performer, who would even give small shows for kids who couldn't afford to watch the aerials - walking on his hands, random somersaults, teaching them how to somersault. He remembered Tim's crestfallen face when he couldn't go and watch Dick perform that day - albeit it turned out to be a little more beneficial for Tim in the long run. He remembered his dad telling him that "whatever little things you show those kids now would make them feel that they are loved and cared for, even if they don't have money. And they'll remember you forever."

"I do not understand nervousness," Damian replied plaintively.

"No, but your brain is giving you signals that make you anxious, you know? Like, you're wondering what's gonna happen tomorrow, and a thousand of scenarios would run to your head. That's... the chemical imbalance is called 'nervousness', I think." Dick explained. Jason has also warned him that Damian hated being treated like a child. Jason has been the only person other than his mother or grandfather who was 'allowed' to discipline him and tell him 'no'.

Still, adult body language and attitude notwithstanding, Dick could see and recognize the child Damian still was.

"Soo... when I couldn't sleep, my mother used to read to me. I mean, obviously I could read on my own by then. But there's just something... I dunno, maybe my subconsciousness just calmed down at the thought that she was there with me. Whatever would happen tomorrow, she would be there, too, to proverbially catch me when I fall, you know?

"I know it's... hard, that... you know that your mother is gone and all. But the thing is - like Tim has told Jason, whatever will happen tomorrow with your biological father, you'll still have a home with us." Dick said, eyeing Damian sideways to check if he was offended or not.

"I have a home with the League of Assassins," Damian stated haughtily. "Jason has informed me that there is a difference between underlings and friends. I gather what you are saying is that I shall have you as friends - as contemporaries - rather than an underling, as you all seem to revere to this Oracle person."

"See, Oracle is not really our... supervisor. Oracle is a really good friend who believes that we all could be good and showed us how. I..." Dick hesitated as he was about to say 'she' to designate Oracle. "When Bane killed off the Court of Owls and almost all of the Talons, I was lost. But then I remembered this person. Through the years of my training, this person had somehow remained in my memory. And the first time we've met was literally a few hours before it turned to be the worst day of my life, the day when my parents' were murdered. Before that, I was playing outside, performing tricks for the kids who couldn't get in the aerial shows. Oracle was there and told me that I was a 'good person' after I was done. I don't know how or why, but it stuck with me.

"I am a Talon, I am trained to kill those who hurt Gotham City. I have done so many despicable things that... I dunno, common people might simply see me as... as a vile person. A criminal psychopath. But not Oracle. Oracle and Tim opened their doors, asked me to join them to help them make Gotham better for the common people. Because they believed I'm a good man. I've been here for barely three months, and I'm enjoying myself. Sure, the fights were harder and viler than when I was Talon - especially since the criminals now seemed to have superpowers and no longer fear the sight of a Talon. But I do it because I know they count on me to make it work. And because I know that whatever will happen, I'm not alone. I won't be hiding in a nest somewhere alone, tending to my own wounds. I won't have to wonder where I'll get my next meal from, or if I'll have a warm place to hide in..."

Dick was really just rambling because it has been a long time since anyone would listen without judging or being wary of what his intentions were. But then he felt a weight on his side and looked. Damian was leaning on him, eyes closed. He twitched a little when Dick quieted down.

So Dick continued, "It's been a while... a good long while since anybody listened to me and not take my opinion as being counted. As a Talon, I was to do as told. The 'how' would be the only thing in my discretion. The who, where, and when, were all decided. The 'why' should never be asked. Here, my opinion counts - except on wearables. I don't know why.

"Therefore, Damian. Oracle is not the 'leader' of us. I'd rather see Oracle as our pillar of support. I know a lot of the Oracle to consider... them--"

"Her," Jason's voice suddenly corrected him. "We know she's a female, Dick. Don't worry. We're not interested in figuring out who she is, yet." he smirked. "Subliminal marketing, much?"

Dick chuckled. "More like a bedtime story for the real-life assassin-slash-heir youngster," he replied. "How long have you known?"

"Pretty much the first fifteen minutes after her projection showed up. Her reactions of yours and Tim's antics were kind of like--" Jason paused and swallowed. "Talia's when we did the same..."

"You cared for her," Dick concluded.

"She took me off the streets and give me a home and purpose. So yeah, I cared." Jason replied. "So how did Oracle became your personal muse?"

"She has... uhh... distinctive features that caught my eyes then, I guess. Can you imagine that? I was like, ten years old." Dick grinned. "Puberty pre-kicking, I guess. But I'd picked the right person, I think. Most of the Talons forgot who they were after the training. I still remember that I'm Dick Grayson, son of John and Mary; once one of the best family of aerialists in the world." he said. "Was it anything like that in the League's training? Do they want you to forget who you were?"

Jason snorted. "No, if anything, they want you to remember and remember how bad it could get if you're not there."

"Was it that bad for you?"

Jason shrugged. "I'd probably end up as a hooker by the end of that week if Talia didn't get me outta Crime Alley." he replied. "that, or dead, or jailed. Whichever got to me first."

"Oookay..." Dick looked at Damian, who was fast asleep. "Think he'll wake up if I move him?"

"Naah, I'll move him." Jason offered and picked up Damian easily. Damian stirred a little but settled his head on Jason's shoulder. "Thanks. I got the feeling that if this daddy stuff doesn't work out, he'll be adopting you," he added.

Dick snorted a soft laugh. "Yeah right..."

But regardless, he did spend the rest of the night wondering if Bruce Wayne would rise to the occasion, or sink to his playboy reputation. Even the Court never bothered to pay him much attention, largely due to his larger-than-life obnoxiousness. He wondered if Damian would indeed be better remaining there, at the Birds of Prey's lair.

His last thought before succumbing to sleep was, at least there's Jason, who seemed to be the voice of reason for Damian...

[ellana-ravenwood]

Thinking of young twenty something Bruce Wayne not long after he took Dick as his ward gives me life :

In the hope to forget about current canon that turned him into a mindless brute, I was thinking about Bruce’s early days as a “guardian”. About him, you know, learning how to take care of a kid and all, and trying not to rely entirely on Alfred all the time. Really wanting to be part of this child’s life and trying so hard, even if he was/is bound to make MANY mistakes, and for some reasons ...A (headcanon) scene came to my mind. So, let’s say it’s a few months after Bruce took young Richard Grayson in, and it’s the boy’s birthday. 

Bruce doesn’t really know what to get him so he figures, he’s gonna take him to a mall and the kid can just choose whatever he wants (and I am a 100% sure he would buy him ANYTHING he points at, no matter what it is. “What, you want a book ? Huh, you want the...library ? All of it ? Ok *gets checkbook out*” hahahaha. But of course I’m sure Dickiebird would ask ridiculous things as a joke and to be a “smartass”, thinking B didn’t really mean it when he said “Choose whatever you want” and it was just a figure of speech...and be baffled he actually did totally mean it, and took all his requests seriously and then Dick would just end up asking for a normal gift, even feeling a little shy and wanting nothing too big while Bruce is like : “so...no library ?”).  Now let’s say Bruce would...Lose sight of Dick in the crowd, after a second of inattention. I mean. The boy is curious and you know, kids wander off all the time, and are quick doing it. I guess where I’m getting at is : 

Imagine Bruce Wayne, charming billionaire always in control of his emotions, smooth as fuck and the actual BATMAN Bruce Wayne, screaming “DICK” very loudly at everyone, in every aisle of every shop, all around a huge mall, his voice growing louder as he searches for his boy desperately, unable to think straight and rationally ! Hahaha... Mm. It sounded funnier in my head ? Oh well. 

Of course he’d find Dick who like, walked in an arcade and was looking, very interested, at all the video games they had. But then when he wanted to ask Bruce for a quarter he realized he didn’t follow him and Dick’s parents always told him to “stay where he was” when he got lost...So he stayed there, waiting for Bruce. When Bruce finally found him, after screaming “DICK” frantically everywhere for a while = first genuine loving hug + Bruce realizing that being a dad isn’t gonna be that easy (and would 10/10 die for the boy). Pretty certain after that, an “Arcade room” opened in Wayne Manor haha.

I’m also sure “that time you lost me in the mall” is an event Dick brings up often when he wants to annoy Bruce, and he does it particularly when he’s trying to have something and Bruce says “no”. Know what I mean ? Guilt tripping haha. Also telling the story of that time Bruce yelled “Dick” everywhere, and scared old ladies who thought he was a crazy lewd young man, to people like Clark Kent, giving them a little leverage on the Batman (it’s only fair haha... none of them use that knowledge right anyway, according to Dick). 

PS : I’m sure he lost all of them at some point hahaha :  Jason “disappeared in a wave of happy fans when Bruce took him to a baseball game and the Gotham’s Knights won, and the boy got separated from his dad in the thrill of it all, which resulted in an extremely panicked Bruce who ended up finding him on some hooligan’s shoulders screaming that the other team sucked (and not scolding him because said other team was Metropolis’ one)” Todd. Cass “ran after a firefly in the park, because it was beautiful, and scared her father to death when he couldn’t find her anywhere and he was panicking about what happened and getting paranoid thinking something from her past caught up to her, only to find her sitting next to a tree, surrounded by fireflies” Cain.  Tim “so tiny that it was like he got eaten by the crowd at a charity event’s entrance, and after the confusion of it all and Bruce feeling like he was loosing his mind at the thought that maybe someone took advantage of this to kidnap his boy (famed Wayne heir after all), found the kid eating “hors d’oeuvres” on the lap of some beautiful  model...”Hi Bruce !” haha” Drake. Damian “apparently lost me for the first ten years of my life” Wayne. Hahaha.

Anyway just a quick post not to take too seriously. I just like to think about random small scenes that could’ve happened in the Batfam’s “domestic” (or vigilante really) life, as I just love them all so much <3. 

[bigskydreaming]

seekingxanadu. tumblr. com/post/188448401716/ Unrelated, this I see sometimes from some D&d stans or Bruce-is-abusive campers, the need to replace Damian's bad punchy dad Bruce with good cuddly dad Dick. What's your dig on that? Like I get the need I have trash dad too, Dick has already done So Much for Dames, B still doesn't fight a whole lot to love his son.. Ignoring Ric completely, even if D was to adopt d, would B/ d allow it? Would T/S/J/C be his uncles n aunts? Is it legal? B's alive 😵

Okay, to preface this, the one thing I would kill for this fandom to have is like……chill when it comes to gooddadBruce/baddadBruce.

Because the thing is, there is no right or wrong answer here because this topic is always going to be deeply personal to pretty much everyone. Who doesn’t have issues with their parents to some degree, y’know? So with Bruce being one of the longest-existing and highest profile dads in comics, period, let alone an adoptive father of a found family anyone and everyone can kinda project themselves onto or imagine themselves a part of to varying degrees…..everyone kinda looks for different things from him, and his relationships with his family.

So some people just don’t want to deal with canon revolving around Bruce’s worse behaviors or fandom extrapolations of it…..because they came for good dad Bruce. That’s why they’re here. Whether or not they have good or bad relationships with their own parents, for one reason or another, they WANT the good, loving, doting Bruce Wayne who is an exemplary father to his kids, and they don’t want to touch or acknowledge canon that makes him otherwise, and that’s perfectly understandable. Forcing them to interact with abusive Bruce canon or fanon is kinda an asshole move, just because y’know….some people need the example and story of the good dad Bruce.

BUT.

At the same time, the reverse holds true. Some people are here for the rest of the family, not Bruce himself, and project themselves on his kids, and relate to the worse dynamics Bruce has with them, for whatever reason. And that deserves to be respected every bit as much as the former. Its equally an asshole move IMO to INSIST on good dad Bruce being the ‘only true Bruce’ because like it or not, the worse behaviors are canon too, and people are equally valid in acknowledging those for their own reasons, as others are in not wanting to interact with those parts of canon. That last part is key - I think its totally understandable and fair for people to not want to INTERACT with the parts of canon that have him being abusive…..but that is not the same thing as just flat out denying those parts exist and are valid for people to write about, or insisting that anyone who does so is just looking to bash or smear Bruce’s character.

Like, I get being defensive of a character, obviously. I get it in a BIG way….but there’s a way to do that without trampling over legitimate issues that people have with a character, even if they stem from writing that you yourself don’t particularly care to acknowledge. 

Because the thing that drives me up the wall on this subject is not people having radically opposite views of Bruce - because I get WHY people adhere to those radically opposite takes. No, the thing that drives me up a wall is when in order to adhere to their take, people engage in abuse apologism or kinda trample all over people who are just trying to work out their own issues with parental abuse via these characters as proxies.

For a fandom that talks as much about respecting peoples’ rights to write dark sexual fic as a coping mechanism, there’s a HUGE lack of respect for peoples’ right to write Bruce being abusive as a means to cope with and work through their own history with abusive parents. 

And that bugs. A SHIT TON.

And abuse apologism takes a ton of forms. Sometimes overt, sometimes not. Like, I’m all for people wanting good dad Bruce, like I said….and am more than willing to respect when they just don’t want to interact with something like Bruce punching one of his kids……but it becomes something totally different when they DO choose to interact with certain scenes of abusive behavior….and explain away or attempt to mitigate the wrongdoing by Bruce in those scenes. That’s abuse apologism, and its not cool, and I’m always going to call it out when I see it, because a lot of times people don’t even realize that’s what they’re doing and they need to. Abuse apologism is never acceptable IMO, and it always deserves pushing back against.

BUT then there are less overt forms of it too. And one of the biggest ‘subtle’ form of abuse apologism, and thus one of the more insidious, is blame shifting. And this is why you see me constantly harping on things like Spyral and also the Dick and Jason dynamic pre-A Death In the Family. 

Because see, Bruce was abusive to Dick in getting him to go undercover at Spyral. Plain and simple. And if people want to never write about that storyline or Forever Evil at all because of how Bruce was written there, I get that. The problem becomes when people DO still want to write about Spyral, DO still want to talk about Dick’s death and undercover operation AND his siblings being left in the dark (which only happened on Bruce’s insistence DESPITE Dick’s clear and active resistance to this idea)…..and DO still want to write about the cold reception Dick got from his family when he returned.

All without ever mentioning Bruce’s role in any of this, even though he had the DEFINITIVE role in this….because there’s no excusing his behavior, and people are aware of this….so they choose just not to acknowledge it, even mention it….WHILE still writing and touching on all the canon fallout that Dick was faced with….DUE to Bruce’s actions.

And this is blame-shifting. And it is a form of abuse apologism, because it basically shoves all of Bruce’s abuse under the carpet while Dick is left holding the bag that BRUCE should be stuck with…..and never will be, as long as his abusive actions aren’t acknowledged and addressed.

Basically, nobody in the story or the comments is even talking about Bruce and what he did….because everyone is busy focusing on what Dick supposedly did, and his role.

And as I’ve mentioned before….it doesn’t have to be this way. People can still write about Spyral AND avoid interacting with Bruce’s shitty writing in all that…..just….don’t shift the blame. Take out the parts where the rest of Dick’s family is left in the dark, just include a scene or two of him and Bruce bringing them in on the secret before Dick departs undercover without Bruce’s abusive manipulations forcing him into it….and bam, you get to keep most of the same story, you just don’t have to interact with Bruce’s abusive behavior…..you just also have to….not interact with the fallout and blame that was heaped on Dick BECAUSE canon refused to acknowledge Bruce’s abusive behavior either.

And I mention the Jason and Dick dynamic before the former’s death as being a case of this too, because I do believe the extreme EMPHASIS on how shitty Dick supposedly was to Jason back then, is unconsciously or not, an attempt at blame-shifting. Its one thing if people wanted to write that take here and there as a genuine attempt to explore the idea of ‘what if’ Dick had resented Jason instead of just resenting Bruce’s actions there, and taken it out on Jason, and that resulted in a strained relationship between the two brothers. Even though we never really saw anything like that happen in canon beyond like, the first two pages Dick and Jason ever interacted, where Dick actually made peace with him and gave him his blessing by the end of that very issue. Again, like, people have their own reasons for exploring different family dynamics, and maybe someone wants to work out their issues with a strained sibling relationship via Dick and Jason. That’s valid.

But the extreme insistence on that specific take on Dick and Jason back then, throughout almost all of fandom, for years and years on end, without any canon backing any of that up AND all of that at the same time that the REASONS for Dick’s resentment and strained relationship with Bruce are barely even acknowledged in these same stories…….that’s when it starts to look a lot like abuse apologism to me instead.

Because its like the Spyral thing. Blame-shifting shifts focus. Nobody’s gonna be talking about the shitty things Bruce did to Dick in all of that, that someone who adheres to a ‘good dad Bruce’ take doesn’t want to interact with or address…..when everybody is busy focusing on the shitty things Dick supposedly did to Jason in this fanon take instead. See? 

And voila, Bruce taking away Robin from Dick, giving it to Jason without even asking Dick or acknowledging what it meant to him, adopting Jason even while Dick remained estranged and at arm’s length and with Bruce making no attempt to close that gap or take any initiative there….all of that conveniently gets swept under the rug, because all of that is sympathetic to Dick, and nobody’s really looking to be sympathetic to Dick when they’re busy examining how Dick wasn’t sympathetic to Jason’s situation in all of that. 

To be fair, you can split hairs and argue about my use of abuse apologism here as Bruce’s actions at that point aren’t as definitively abusive as moments like where he punches one of his kids, though I still argue he was at least emotionally abusive at that point in time. But I maintain its still all the same basic mindset and approach to keeping Bruce in the good dad camp, and thus I include it here. 

Perhaps a better example would be when people acknowledge the distance between Bruce and Dick after Jason’s death, and how and why Tim had to be the one to ask Dick to come back…..but never addressing the fact that in canon, Dick DID come back after Jason’s death, despite the fact that things were still very tense and strained between them even just before that happened….and Dick DID take the initiative in reaching out to Bruce and closing that gap between them so they could be there for each other, grieve together….and the only reason he was so distant and removed when Tim sought him out was because Bruce was literally abusive in response to Dick reaching out….he blamed Dick for Jason’s death, punched him and kicked him out. THAT was why Dick was a city away while Bruce was enacting a slow-burning deathwish in Gotham…because Dick had already TRIED being there and Bruce threw it in his face in a definitively abusive way that Dick had every right and justification in retreating from…..

So again….it becomes a kind of blame-shifting when you elevate Dick as being equally responsible for the distance between them at that point, that Tim bridged…..while refusing to acknowledge WHY that distance existed, and that Tim’s bridge wouldn’t have been needed if Bruce had just accepted Dick’s attempt at peace between them when he came to mourn Jason with him, instead of responding with abuse.

And this is my big gripe with fandom on the good dad Bruce vs bad dad Bruce score, and always will be….the various forms of abuse apologism it concocts to avoid ACKNOWLEDGING Bruce’s abusive moments in canon rather than just saying “I don’t wish to interact with this because its not what I’m here for, its not what I look for in stories about Bruce and his family.” Especially when this is further alienating to people just trying to examine the abusive dynamics for their own personal reasons, as people assume or insist that they’re really just attempting to smear or bash Bruce or diminish other peoples’ liking of his character.

Because again, like with Spyral….none of the blame-shifting is necessary, if the only true aim is just to avoid interacting with abusive Bruce canon, and adhere to the good dad take on him. 

Apologies to @goldkirk for bringing them into a post they might not want to be connected to, and I’ll happily edit out if requested, but I bring them up purely because I think they’re an excellent example of an ideal way to handle this…..their Tim-centric series on Ao3 involves Dick as Nightwing and Jason as Robin still, is set firmly in that time period…..and yet handily avoids interacting with any of the negative writing around Bruce at that period and writing him as a pretty exemplary dad…..BUT AT THE SAME TIME…..feels no need to shift that blame anywhere else, in an attempt to sweep all that under the rug. Bruce, Dick and Jason have a great relationship in that series. There’s no need to point the finger at anyone, because in that series’ canon, nothing blame-worthy ever happened on ANY side. There’s no conflict between Dick and Jason because there’s no NEED for conflict between them, to distract from conflict between Bruce and Dick….because none of that exists either. Its all just….snipped out of the tapestry, and it works, because THERE’S NO REASON FOR IT NOT TO.

And it really is that simple. But people make it a lot more complicated than that, and that’s where abuse apologism creeps in, and when a lot of the people writing and reading bad dad Bruce stories and headcanons are only doing so not because they want to hate Bruce and hate on him, but because they’re trying to legitimately explore and work out various feelings about abusive parent/child relationships……seeing constant abuse apologism paired with script-flipping that puts them on the defensive as they’re kinda grouped together as just ‘not getting the real Bruce/Batman’ or ‘just wanting to bash his character’……like….yeah. That’s gonna result in divisiveness.

And now, bringing it back to your actual question…….the point of all this is I imagine my answer probably isn’t the one you’re looking for personally. The thing is, I write a lot of extremely critical stuff about Bruce…..but that doesn’t mean I actually want a cutting of ties between him and his kids, or Dick adopting Damian because its better for Damian than being with Bruce. That take is valid, for people who want to explore it for whatever reason. Its not the take I want though, and that’s not to say its right or wrong, or I’m right or wrong for that….its just….personal. I view a lot of Bruce’s actions and behaviors as abusive, and think his kids deserve better…..but I focus on all of that because I want Bruce to BE better for them. To BE what they deserve. I want to examine and explore how he can get from some of the shitty things he’s done to them, to a place where he learns and grows and apologizes and DOES BETTER.

Like, my TMI self has not been shy about the fact that yeah, I grew up in an abusive and neglectful family and I did cut ties with them, like….well years ago, now, at this point. And I’ll never get closure for that because its not really….closure. Its just a choice I made to protect myself when I realized nothing was ever going to change, but it was never what I WANTED, it was just….the end result of a lack of other options. Of better options.

With fiction, with the Batfamily…..I can take a story that’s somewhat similar to mine, and give it a different ending. The ending I wanted, but could never get, because ultimately I only had control over my own actions and choices. With fiction, I can control the actions and choices of a character I relate to as a proxy, like Dick…AND those of Bruce, the ‘problem element’ in their relationship. I can write him seeing his actions as abusive, acknowledging this, addressing this, GROWING, putting in the work on himself, his own actions and mindsets, and dedicating himself to being the parent his kids deserve, the parent they want him to be….because they don’t actually WANT to cut ties with him. 

I can see how that story unfolds instead, of course….but its a story that unfolds only when Dick thinks there’s no other options left for giving Damian the childhood he deserves. Its a story worth telling, certainly….its just not the story I want to tell. And there’s no right or wrong there, its just a matter of shaping the story to be what you need it to be, to give you the ending you need to read or write or imagine.

So that’s my big long spiel that’s been a long time coming, about my over-all stance on good dad Bruce or bad dad Bruce, and what it takes to give his kids like Dick and Damian, the happy ending they deserve. *Shrugs* It just comes down to your personal preference, as to the form that happy ending takes, and just….finding a path to it. For me, I can’t really headcanon the direction your ask takes, because its not the happy ending I’m looking for, for them. 

Doesn’t make the Dick adopts Damian and they go live elsewhere while Jason and Tim and Cass are Damian’s aunt and uncles slash siblings and its messy and weird but it works…..like, it doesn’t make that happy ending invalid or impossible, or even unlikely. 

Its just I have specific things that draw me to this family, personally, and the ending I’m looking for and need is the one where Bruce owns up to his worst canon behaviors and puts his kids first and dedicates himself to becoming the father they deserve with the same drive he used to make himself one of the premiere superheroes on a planet populated by superhumans and gods.

But to get there, the actual abuse needs to be acknowledged, ADMITTED TO, and addressed. There’s no hop, skip and a jump straight to the magical land of good dad Bruce, for me personally, because that would defeat the point, be contrary to what I’m looking for. But acknowledging and even focusing on the abuse doesn’t mean that I’m looking for an UNHAPPY ending for Bruce, or a parting of the ways between him and his kids…….bottom line, its all messy, and complicated and nuanced and PERSONAL…..and that is what I desperately wish for this fandom to get on board with.

There is no good dad Bruce and no bad dad Bruce, because there’s just Bruce, the fictional character who does what he’s written to do, for whatever reasons his writers write him doing those things. And people aren’t doing it wrong by focusing on the opposite camp of whichever one we fall into personally…..its just that what’s right for us isn’t necessarily right for them, and vice versa.

AND THAT’S OKAY.

Just as long as people….like….LET it be okay, and just find ways to be okay with it.

Anyway, lol, that’s my take on all of that, which at least was part of your ask, soooooooo…..enjoy the rest of the spaghetti I threw at this wall here, I guess? LOL.

[badacts]

adrenaline

i knew what i was gonna write about for this prompt and this just gave me ammo i needed

Bruce sneaks Dick a granola bar while they’re getting ready, where it no doubt gets pushed in his pocket along with the one Alfred would have slipped him earlier. The big grin it earns Bruce is its own repayment, in addition to the intended lack of moaning about starvation later.

There’s not exactly a shortage of food at these galas, not really, but there’s not much for a nine-year-old who is as unadventurous with food as he is adventurous in every other aspect of his life. The granola bars will at least keep him satisfied, but no doubt he’ll still devour every crumb of the meal Alfred makes him later.

“I can’t even do a cartwheel in these,” Dick is saying, pulling at the waistband of his suit trousers with a frown.

“Cartwheels aren’t a requirement for tonight, pal,” Bruce replies, twitching his dinner jacket into place. “Need help with your bowtie?”

“Alfred does it better than you,” he says, which is true, but still amusing in its bluntness. “But thanks. Hey, can we get pizza later?”

Bruce pretends to think about it, tapping his chin. The truth of the matter is that Dick will happily eat Alfred’s pre-patrol meal tonight, and then a slice of pizza afterward too. Bruce at this point suspects Dick’s legs might be hollow, but the one time he mentioned it Alfred had just smiled and called Dick ‘a growing boy’.

“On one condition,” Bruce proposes after a moment. “I’d like for you to try three things off of the buffet table tonight.”

Dick makes a tortured face. “But B...”

“That’s the deal,” Bruce says. “Three things. No more, no less.”

“But what if it’s poisoned?”

This is Gotham, so that’s not a completely unrealistic scenario, but Bruce just gives Dick a look. “I carry several common antitoxins on my person. You’ll be fine.”

“What if it just tastes like poison?” Dick’s big eyes are piteous.

“Then you’ll have learned something, and earned that pizza later,” Bruce says, amused but unmoved. “Come on, chum. You might find you like something. And if you do, we can ask Alfred to make it for you.” After all, the kid surely can’t exist on two varieties of sandwich (tuna, and peanut butter) forever. Bruce is sure he ate more than that at Dick’s age.

Dick sighs, long-suffering. “Fine.”

Bruce holds out a hand. “Shake on it?”

Dick sticks his tiny hand into Bruce’s, which dwarfs it. His grip is firm. “Shake on it.”

*

The gala is a bustle of people and gossip and handshakes and cheek kisses. It’s the cheerful burble of Dick’s voice that keeps him grounded, these days. He’s a social child, pulling away from Bruce’s side far more often than Bruce would like in order to talk to someone or do something. He trails smiles in his wake, has people saying to Bruce how delightful he is.

“Hear that, Bruce?” Dick says in a lull between crowds. “I’m delightful.”

“You’re something,” Bruce teases, though of course he agrees. He’s watching Dick peruse the food set aside on the buffet table, the typical fancy finger foods caterers favour for events like this. “Did you pick something yet?”

“Yes,” Dick says, and then winces theatrically as he picks up a raw oyster nestled in its shell.

“Dickie, pal, you don’t need to pick the nastiest looking thing laid out,” Bruce points out. He’s personally fairly fond of oysters, but he can admit they’re not what he would have enjoyed at Dick’s age.

“Yes I do,” Dick says, eyeing the glistening thing with some trepidation. “I watched people having them earlier. I know how to do it.” 

“Well, you’re certainly upholding your end of the bargain,” Bruce notes as Dick shoots the oyster like a pro. There’s something to be said for his impressive observational skills. “How is it?”

Dick swallows, and then smacks his lips. “Huh. Not bad, really. Kinda slimy.”

“They are, a little,” Bruce agrees, gently scruffing his hair. Dick’s not old enough to scowl over it - he grins instead.

“Doesn’t taste much like tuna,” Dick says thoughtfully as he deposits the shell in the discrete trashcan under the table, “Oh, hello there!”

The next group of people is here, wanting to talk WE shares and expensive vacations. Bruce laughs over the stock market like he doesn’t spend the time each day reading the reports, and mentions skiing in Austria and tanning in Thailand like he leaves Gotham for anything that isn’t Batman-related.

Maybe he should look into a vacation, actually. Dick would likely love it, even if they went somewhere not too far from the city, but the opportunity to take him overseas to explore is almost too good to pass up. Dick would love London, he thinks, but there’s also any number of Italian cities where the weather is better. But then, he can’t imagine Dick would be interested in church tours and art galleries with dozens of paintings of Mother Mary...

A little hand tugs at his jacket. Bruce, prepared for the sweet piping of Dick’s cheery voice asking something, looks down a moment later when it doesn’t come.

Dick is looking back up at him with a faintly surprised expression. “I feel funny.”

His face is pale, his mouth parted while he breathes quickly through it. Bruce drops to a knee and feels for his pulse, finding it racing. He’s forced to steady Dick when he sways.

For a moment Bruce genuinely does think, poison. But then the paranoia retreats a touch and he asks, “Your throat, how does it feel?”

“Itchy,” Dick says. “Can’t breathe too good.”

“Okay,” Bruce says, and then eases him off his feet so he’s lying down right there on the ballroom floor. His own heart is pounding in his chest. He says to the people gathered around them both, the ones he’d forgotten about until now, “Does anyone have an epipen?”

There’s a rush of murmuring around him, but no immediate answer. Meanwhile, Dick is starting to audibly wheeze, and his expression is moving from confused to panicked. He grasps as Bruce’s wrists with unsteady fingers, eyes wide.

“It’s okay,” Bruce soothes, rubbing gently at Dick’s chest. He’s frighteningly aware of how fragile the boy’s ribs are, how easily they’ll break under the pressure of CPR. “Just stay calm, okay? You’re going to be alright.”

Dick, lips faintly blue-tinged, stares up at him and gasps. He looks as though he isn’t processing, and Bruce is already making half-flung plans of getting him to a hospital, or the possible necessity of doing a tracheotomy right here. He can do one, has the training, but he doesn’t want to.

“I’ve called an ambulance,” someone says from over his shoulder.

“Sir!” A wonderful, welcome, familiar voice calls just then. Alfred appears as if from nowhere, cradling a bright yellow autoinjector in his hand. He flicks the cap off and hands it over to Bruce, who jabs it into Dick’s thigh through his trousers without pausing.

Alfred kneels across from him, pressing a hand to Dick’s forehead as though checking for a fever. He meets Bruce’s eyes and murmurs, “Thank goodness for paranoia. I’ve been carrying that resuscitation kit in the town car for months now.”

“Thank god,” Bruce says, and it’s only because the danger isn’t over yet that it doesn’t come out shaky.

Dick murmurs, “Oh!” A little bit of colour is leeching back into his face already, and his breathing looks a touch easier. 

“The ambulance is here,” someone says, and Bruce hefts Dick up in his arms immediately to go to them rather than wait. His breathing sounds worse up close, but there’s a little strength in his fingers when he fists at Bruce’s lapel.

“Bruce?” he asks, sounding woozy. “I don’t feel...”

He gags and then vomits down his front, blinking afterwards as though surprised. Bruce doesn’t pause at that, but he does a little when Dick, after a moment, begins to cry.

“Hush, pal,” Bruce says lowly. “It’s okay. You’re not well, but you’re going to be okay.”

Dick clings to him harder. “I feel bad.”

“I know,” Bruce says. “It’s the adrenaline. Hey, up we go.”

He passes Dick up into the waiting arms of the paramedic, but is stymied when Dick doesn’t actually release him.

“Don’t leave me,” he bawls, tears running down his cheeks. “Please, B.”

“Hey, your dad’s not going anywhere,” the paramedic soothes. “He just needs to get in here without tripping and squashing you, huh?”

“I’m right here,” Bruce says, climbing up into the ambulance too. The paramedic lays Dick down on the gurney, and he instantly rolls up like a pillbug on his side except for the hand clinging hard to Bruce. Aware that he’s about to be in the way and not caring, Bruce kneels by the gurney so Dick’s arm isn’t at a bad angle.

“He’s had one dose of adrenaline,” he tells the paramedic, and then, “Hey, Dickie. What did you eat tonight?”

“Um,” Dick says tearfully. “Um, the oyster. And then I had another oyster, and maybe one more. Because you said three things, but you didn’t say they didn’t have to be different things, right?”

“That’s true,” Bruce tells him. “Clever. But I think we might skip the shellfish from now on.”

“They weren’t that bad,” Dick sobs. The paramedic is fitting him with an oxygen mask and a blood pressure cuff, and then putting a blanket over his legs.

“We’re about to leave, Dad,” the second paramedic says from up front in the cab. “You ready to go?”

Bruce casts a quick glance down at his hands, which are shaking like they never, ever do, and then says, “Yes.”

*

Once they’re at the hospital, things move fairly quickly, and not only because he’s Bruce Wayne. Dick, still leaking the odd miserable tear, is placed in a curtained cubicle and put on a drip of steroids and antihistamines.

As soon as the staff stop bustling around and leave them with promises to check in soon, Bruce hitches himself up on the edge of the bed beside Dick. Dick instantly leans into him, snuffling into his shirt.

“How are you feeling, pal?” Bruce asks gently.

“Itchy,” Dick mumbles, “But better.” His lips and cheeks are swollen and there’s a big rash across his abdomen, but his breathing is coming fairly easily now. “‘m sorry.”

Bruce blinks. “For what?”

“I, um, I made a fuss,” Dick replies, which Bruce translates into I got scared. 

“You had a good reason,” Bruce points out. “I’m not mad. I was worried about you.”

Internally, he’s feeling the tickle of guilt that tells him, sly, it’s your fault. He couldn’t have known, of course, that their little deal would lead to this, but when he’s cradling his usually fearless boy in a hospital bed it’s very difficult to see it that way.

“Okay,” Dick agrees. He sounds sleepy now, like the drama has worn him out. “Pizza later?”

“Yeah, Dickie,” Bruce says, settling him so he’s comfortable snuggled into Bruce’s side under the blankets. “We’ll get pizza later.”

[thebluenebula]

The 2nd part to my New Bat story which I am totally most likely going to keep writing for the forseeable future.

Masterlist

Day 1

Day 3

A New Bat: Day 2

When I woke up, the sun was shining through the window. I sat up on the edge of my bed and checked my phone. The screen displayed the time, 11:23, and a text from an unkown number.

"Hey Ash, it's Dick. I got your number off B. Whenever you wake up you can head down to the kitchen and Alfred will make whatever you want, it should be quiet as Alfred generally keeps us out of the kitchen."

I saved the number, got dressed, then headed out into the hall. I couldn't see anyone but I could hear a voice in a nearby room. I quickly navigated to the stairs and headed down.

Once I got to the first floor I managed to find my way to the kitchen without running into anybody. I knocked as I opened the door.

"Hello, Miss Ashleigh. May I interest you in some scrambled eggs?"

"Hi Alfred, yeah if you wouldn't mind." I glances around the kitchen to see if anyone else was in here but it was just me and Alfred.

"Of course not, Miss Ashleigh, it's why I'm paid to be here."

I giggled. I could hear the faint whispers of an argument happening somewhere else in the manor. "I would have imagined a family that fights crime dressed as bats at night would sleep during the day."

Alfred grabbed a nearby pan. "If I only I were that lucky."

"Were you a chef before working here? The dinner yesterday was amazing."

"No, but when you been working as a butler as long as I have you are bound to acquire a few skills."

I nodded. "Makes sense."

Alfred handed a plate of eggs to me. "Indeed, Miss Ashleigh. Master Bruce has asked me to inform you that he will be attending a Wayne Enterprise meeting for a large portion of today. It was unavoidable I'm afraid."

I swallowed the piece of egg I was chewing. "Oh, do you know when he will be back?"

"He should be back sometime this evening."

Alfred went over to the sink and began washing the dishes. "Have you met any of the other children?"

"I met Jason last night." I waved my fork around. "He seems... brash. Is brash the right word? What does brash even mean?"

"While Master Jason may seem brash, as you put it, at first when you get to know him... well he will still seem brash but he does have a kind side."

I finished my eggs and brought the plate over to the sink. "It was dark last night when I met him but does he have some kind of streak in his hair?"

"Yes a white streak right the front." Alfred took my plate and put it in the sink alongside the rest. "Its quite a notable feature of his."

I took a seat back at the table. "I always thought it'd be nice to dye my hair."

"Typically when the children want to dye their hair they go to Harper."

"Do a lot of the kids dye their hair?"

Alfred chuckled. "They rarely dye their own hair but often time one of the boys will wake with some kind of brightly coloured hair, unknown to them of course."

I giggled and stood up. "I'm going to head back up to my room."

"Oh I almost forgot. A package came in for you. I believe Master Bruce put it in his office for safety. I can retrive it and bring it up to your room if you would like."

"If you wouldn't mind Alfred. There's no rush on it."

Alfred nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you." I left the kitchen and headed back up the stairs.

I had just reached the second floor when I heard a voice. "Hello."

I looked over and saw a blonde girl standing by the map on the wall. "Hello Stephanie, isn't it?"

She gave me a curious look. "Just Steph will do. How'd you know?"

I pointed to the map. "Dick told me your the one who makes the maps."

"Ah yes. One of my greatest ideas." She laughed. "Your Ashleigh right?"

"Bang on."

"Nice to meet you. I'm heading to join Cass in the library. Maybe you wanna come join us?"

"Uhh" I thought for a moment. "No thanks. Maybe another time though."

"Okay that's fine but you know where to find us if you change your mind." She giggled. "Just check the map."

I nodded and began climbing the stairs to the third floor.

"Ashleigh."

I stopped and turned. Steph was standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Welcome to the family."

I stared at her for a second then I smiled. "Thank you."

She ran off down the hall and I headed up to my room. I managed to not run into anyone else before reaching my room.

I lay into bed and put on my headphones and just got lost in the music for what felt like hours until voices in the hall caught my attention. I stood up and  placed my ear against the door.

"What's in the box, Dick?" I heard a voice ask.

"None of our business." Dick replied.

"It sounds like it's broken." Another voice said. It sounded like Jason.

"It sounds like Lego." The mystery voice said. He sounded confused.

They have my box. Alfred must have asked Dick to bring it up.

"Into to toys now, Dickie boy." Jason remarked.

"Lots of adults collect Lego, Jay." The mystery voice sounded offended.

"Would you two shut it." Dick groaned. "The box is Ashleigh's."

"Aww, Dickie. The new girls already got you wrapped round her finger." Jason teased. "I thought it was only redheads-"

I could hear the wack of a hand hitting the back of a head then the clatter of a box of small plastic bricks hitting the ground. I flinched knowing that I would have to reconstruct whichever of my poor sets were in that box.

I heard a groan from Dick and lots of laughter. I figured I should go out and get my box before anymore damage is done. I stepped out in to the hall to see Dick picking up the box, Jason was on the ground pissing himself laughing, and the third guy just looked like he was wishing he hadn't been adopted.

"You okay?" I asked them.

All of them stopped and looked at me. Dick stepped forward and handed me the slightly dented box. "Im so sorry. Jay dropped your box."

Jason, who was now on his feet, feigned offense. "ME! You dropped it."

"But it was your fault." Dick shook his head. "We can play the blame game later." He turned to me. "I'm sorry if anything is broken."

I smiled at him. "Nothing I can't rebuild."

"So it is Lego." The third guy jumped in.

I looked at him curiously. " Yes."

Dick pointed to the man. "Ashleigh, this is Tim. Tim, this is Ashleigh."

Tim outstretched his hand. "Nice to meet you."

I nodded to him. "Likewise."

"Well now that everyone is introduced," Jason interrupted. "I have to go. I promised Alfred I'd help with dinner."

Jason walked off. Dick looked at me and handed me the box. "Bruce should be home soon. Alfred said dinner should be ready about ten. You can come down or if you don't feel like it, text me and Alfred will bring it up."

I nodded. "Okay, thanks."

Dick nodded. "I'll talk to you later, I think Babs is coming around for dinner today so I should probably tell Alfred."

Dick walked off leaving me and Tim standing there. "Well I should go put this box down my arms are getting tired."

"Mind if I come in for minute?"

"No, you can come in." We both went back to my room and set the box down in the corner.

"So you're into Lego."

"Yuuup." I opened the box to inspect the damage. The set was completely smashed. I'd have to rebuild it from scratch.

Tim was looking over my shoulder. "I could help you with that if you want."

I stood up and faced him. "That's okay. I find the building quite enjoyable."

He nodded. "Okay cool. It's nice to have a new face around the manor."

"Thanks." I smiled at him.

Tim looked at me for a moment. He looked as if he wanted to say something but didn't. "No problem. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay see yah."

I watched curiosly as Tim left the room then I sat down on the bed.

A moment later I heard a voice outside my room. "Hey Tim." It sounded like Bruce.

"Bruce, what's up?"

"I'm looking for Ashleigh, is she in her room?" I heard Bruce ask.

"Yeah I was just talking to her." Tim replied.

"You should head down. Alfred said dinner should be ready soon."

"Gotcha."

I heard Tim walk off down the hallway as Bruce approached my room. "Hello."

I looked up from my phone to see Bruce standing in the doorway. "Hi."

"Can I come in?"

I nodded.

He came in and sat on the bed beside me. He looked around the room. The room was empty bar my single bed, an old dresser, my suitcases, and the box. "I didn't think there was a room this small in the mansion." He laughed. "I can get Alfred or Dick to bring you furniture shopping one of the days. If you'd like."

"Yeah that'd be okay." While both Dick and Alfred were practically stranger's to me, I felt close to them. I felt close to some people very easily. All it really takes is one good moment between us and I'd basically trust them with my life. One of my many bad traits.

"Or," Bruce continued. "You could wait till the weekend and I could bring you."

I looked up to his face. "Really?"

He smiled. "Of course. I have to work most weekdays but im free on the weekends." The smile disappeared off his face. "Look I know it's gonna be difficult for you to adjust to this family but-"

I wrapped my arms around him. As silly as it may be, I mean I've only known Bruce a couple months, but he already feels like family to me. Bruce embraced me.

We sat like that for a while until he let me go. "Dinner must be almost ready." He stood up. "I can have Alfred bring yours up, or you can come down." He offered me a hand up.

I took his hand and stood up. "I'll come down. I gotta get used to everyone eventually."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded

We headed down to the dining room amd stood outside the two doors. "Everyone will be in here are you sure you're ready?" Bruce asked me.

I nodded and gulped nervously.

"I asked Dick to keep a seat between me and him for you, or you can sit in another free seat if you feel like it."

Bruce stepped forward and opened the door. We walked inside. I had been told how many people would be here but seeing them, it seemed like so many more. My heart began to race and I froze. It felt like an eternity, though it was only a second, as I took I'm the vast array of people at the table. Most looked up from their meals to see who had just entered the room, some were too occupied eating whatever food Alfred had prepared. I felt Bruce's hand on my shoulder and I snapped out of it. He guided me towards the head of the table. I could feel the eyes on me. We stopped and I sat at the chair in front of me as Bruce took a seat at the head of the table just beside me. I looked to my right and Dick was sitting there just as Bruce had said. Across the table from me was a small child and beside him was Tim. I looked down at my plate as to avoid the gaze of the people I could feel looking at me.

"I hope this meal is of sastifaction Miss Ashleigh." Alfred asked.

I looked up to see Alfred standing beside my seat. "Of course, Alfred."

He nodded and turned to Bruce. "I asked them to wait for you before beginning."

Bruce smirked. "I see, then it should be no surprise they started without me then."

Everyone seemed to have gone back to their own conversations amongst themselves.

"Ashleigh." I heard Dick say beside me. I turned to him. "I'd like you to meet someone." He slid his chair back so I could see the girl sitting beside him.

The girl smiled at me. "I'm Babara, but you can just call me Babs."

"I'm Ashleigh."

"That's a lovely name." Babs looked to the people behind her who were deep in conversation then she looked back to me. "You can come to me if any of these smucks are getting on your nerve. I've got blackmail on all of them."

"Wow." Dick quickly butted in. "What blackmail?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, Discowing." Babs teased.

I looked at Babs. "Discowing?"

Dick quickly slid his chair inbetween me and Babs. "Its nothing."

I saw Babs laughing the other side of Dick as his face went red. I looked down at my food then up again. The small boy across from me was just staring at me. Tim elbowed him and they immediately started into some kind of whisper argument.

"That's Damien." Dick said. "He can be a bit... intense sometimes. Don't worry he'll warm up to you quickly."

The rest of the dinner went by without much interesting happening. Though I could have sworn Damien was attempting to stab Tim under the table at one point. Dick and Babs were completely enthralled in a conversation that they both seemed to have forgotten I was there. Bruce would occasionally glance up from his meal to me and smile but he didn't appear to be able to think of anything to say. I just tried to focus on my food for the most part and not all the other people at the table.

I had almost finished my plate when Bruce finally spoke. "It's probably best I introduce them all to you."

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

I nodded then he stood up. He gestured for me to stand up and I did. He tapped a spoon on the side of his glass. Everyone stopped talking and looked up to us.

"It's not too often we're all here together." Bruce began. "Certainly not as often as I'd like-"

Bruce voice faded away, all I could focus on was all the people in front of me. I could feel the panic setting in.

After what felt like an eternity, I heard Bruce's voice. "Ashleigh?"

I looked up at Bruce. He nodded his head towards the table. I looked towards the table. Everyone was looking up at me. Was I supposed to say something? I gave a weak smile and waved. It's all I could do, I don't think my voice would work if I tried.

I felt Bruce hand on my shoulder gently pushing me down. I took my seat and so did Bruce. I felt Dick's hand on my back. I kept my eyes on my plate then looked up to Bruce. "May I be excused?"

Bruce nodded. "Of course."

I stood up and quickly walked out of the nearest door, making sure to avoid looking at anyone at the table. I ended up in the Kitchen. Alfred was standing by the sink. "Miss Ashleigh, are you alright?"

I nodded but I could see myself shaking.

Obviously so could Alfred. "Take a seat Miss Ashleigh, I'll get you a glass of water."

I took a seat at the counter. I heard a door open behind me. "Alfred is Ashleigh here?" Bruce noticed me and rushed to my side. "Ashleigh are you okay?"

"I'm so sorry." My words were shaky. I was holding back tears.

I felt Bruce's arms wrap around me. "You don't need to be sorry. It was just too many people, I understand."

I began sobbing. "I thought... I could..."

"Ashleigh, this won't go away over night. No one is expecting it to."

Alfred stood on the other side of me and handed me a glass of water. "Drink Miss Ashleigh it will help."

I sat there sipping the water for a couple minutes until I had calmed down. Bruce and Alfred never left my side. I giggled a little while sobbing. "A great first impression."

"No one will judge you. I promise." Bruce reassured me.

I nodded. "Is it okay if I go up to my room?"

"Of course." Bruce took his arms from around me. "Do you want someone to come up with you?" I shook my head. Bruce nodded. "I'll come check on you in a while."

I nodded and walked towards the door. I headed up to my room. Everyone must have been still eating cause I didn't run into anyone on my way up. I locked myself in the room and began piecing together the set the boys had broken.

Some time passed when a knock at the door startled me out of my building trance. How long had I been at this. I stood up and opened the door. Bruce was standing there. "Hi, I just wanted to check on you ." Bruce glanced around me at the mess of Lego across the wooden floor. "You collect Lego?"

I looked back at the mess. "Yeah."

"Some of the others buy the occasional ones but I don't think any are into collecting it." Bruce commented.

"Oh cool." I smile at him.

His smile faded. "I want to apologise about this evening. I'm so sorry about that."

I gave Bruce a small smile. "It's okay. I'm okay."

Bruce sat down on the bed beside me. "Seeing all those people would be intimidating at the best of times. Under your circumstances I-" He stopped himself. "I'm sorry. Take things at your own pace, however fast or slow that is."

I leaned into him and place my head against his shoulder. "Thank you."

He place his arm around me and we sat like that for a while.

Eventually I spoke. "I really should probably get to sleep."

Bruce nodded and stood up. "If you need anything you know where to find me."

I nodded. Bruce hesitated for a moment then left. I locked the door behind him and checked my phone. 22:36. I pushed my mess to one corner of the room then hopped into bed. It wasn't long before I fell asleep.

[iphoenixrising]

For 800 Followers: Tiny!Tim and the Wrong Bus

SO MANY TINY!TIM ASKS. So many. And, ah, I didn’t write any of these suggestions, so I’m sorry babes. But I feel this thing probably happened between the Bats finding Tim alone in his house all sick in Tiny!Tim and the Fever, and before the one where he admits he knows who they are in Tiny!Tim and the Secret. Like, B and J still think they’re keeping it from him, lol. 

Just a note: I was really freaked out about this one and tbh, I was going to just wipe it out and try something different. A very cool babe, @ishouldprobablyworkoutmore gave me some terribly helpful perspective on what I originally had. @satire-please and @miss-choco-chips let me cry a little as per usual. I’m a little better now, so to all those Asks hoping for more Tiny!Tim, you can thank my babes for it :D

**

Mister Alfred is going to be real mad, little Timmy Drake thinks, dazed as he looks around, because the bus can’t make it to my house if the side is torn out.

The initial hit knocked the bus completely on the side, knocking him into the window where he hit his head pretty hard. For a few minutes after the screaming stopped and everything was still, he thought he might throw-up because it hurt. Finally righting himself, the pain in his head subsides as his heart starts pounding so so so fast, making it taste gross in the back of his mouth.

Someone is groaning close to him and someone else is crying. It smells like important things are burning.

Miss May, his first grade teacher, had already covered what to do in case of a villain attack at school. Mr. Mike, the bus driver, had shown them all the emergency exits, where the first-aid kit is, and how to use the extinguisher at the beginning of the year.

None of it helps his shaky, stinging hands, and it’s hard to get to the front when fear is chasing him in the panicked scramble over the seats and broken glass since the bus is on it’s side in the middle of the street in downtown Gotham.

Some of the glass cuts into his knees and hands, but–but he can’t stop! He’s got to think like (Robin) Jay and get to supplies, put the fire out before it can get to the gas tank. If he doesn’t, the whole bus could explode, and all the kids are still on the bus, whimpering and scared. Even the older kids. None of them are moving, none of them know what to do.

So. So, he needs a plan!

He needs to put out the fire and get everyone off the bus!

His fingers scrabble with the latches, and he’s perched precariously with one foot on the big steering wheel and the other on the dashboard. The big storage space in the front of the bus, above the jagged windshield finally gives with a metal groan and Tim blinks tears out of his eyes, bites down on his lower lip, and tries, tries so hard, to stop shaking enough that he can get the fire extinguisher out without falling over Mr. Mike’s body sprawled on the steps below him.

He’s trying to concentrate, trying to think past the twisted metal of what used to be his ride, trying to think about Mister Alfred in the front seat of the big, shiny car with Jay souched in the back, picked up from big school already, just waiting for him since he goes to Wayne Manor on days when Mrs. Mac isn’t scheduled to come.

It’s been almost a year now since they’d found him sick and achy during a bad storm when Mrs. Mac couldn’t make it out. Since then, he’s been meeting a sleek car parked by the bus stop so he wouldn’t have to walk all the way home. On days Mrs. Mac wouldn’t be coming, it was a given he’d be eating dinner and doing his homework at Wayne Manor. Most times, he’d be directed to a room upstairs when it was late. Mr. Wayne would tell him he might as well stay the night, and let Alfred drop him off at the bus stop in the morning.

On the usual day, Jay and Alfred would talk to him about school during the ride, make him warm when he’s included in the conversation and questions are asked about his assignments. During dinner Mister Wayne (“Just Bruce is okay, Tim.” “Okay, Mr. Bruce.” “Well. That’s better than nothing.”) would be there coming back from his office with that scrunchy line between his eyebrows.

(Timmy thinks it’s really the Batman trying to get out. It might be silly, but he imagines it kind of like Sailor Moon. Mr. Bruce holds up his utility belt or a special Batarang, and then transforms into the Batman!)

Today, he isn’t going to meet that car to tell Jay and Alfred about school.

Instead, he’s going to use both hands to squeeze the difficult trigger on the fire extinguisher, get bopped by it before white foam coats the flames, and other kids are peeking over the seats at him and the smouldering fire.

Instead, he holds on to it desperately with both arms once the fire is out and makes himself think about how Batman sounds when he tells the bad guys to let the hostages go, give up or else. Thinking about Batman gives Timmy enough strength to turn on all those terrified expressions and grit his teeth before he opens his mouth to start yelling, yelling at the top of his lungs, for everyone to get out the emergency door in the back.

“Get out right now! Get out or else I’m gonna tell. I’m gonna tell all your moms and dads! And you’re going to be in so much trouble.”

That really does the trick and heads pop up immediately at the mention of trouble.

Little Timmy points at the only accessible exit, the big door at the back of the overturned bus since one emergency window is literally blocked by the street and the other is over their heads. The front entrance is blocked by Mr. Mike, so there’s no way they’re getting out there either. The only way to go is out the back, and he starts shoving kids that way while brandishing the fire extinguisher and yelling even more.

He struggles to get over the seats again, trying to push the bigger kids to the back, away from the ripped metal and broken glass. Once the bigger ones start moving, getting the younger ones up and over the seats, Timmy goes back to pull at Mr. Mike still lying halfway down the steps where he landed when the bazooka Two-Face was holding exploded into rush hour traffic.

Tim is really, really relieved Mr. Mike’s eyes are open this time, and the adult is struggling to stand up, eyes dazedly looking around for the other kids he’s in charge of seeing home safely.  

Timmy grabs his hand when his legs seem kind of wobbly and walks him to the back of the broken bus, assuring the driver he’s already gotten most of the kids out the back because at least he was paying attention when they were going over emergency procedures. He’s sure Mr. Mike will be super proud when his head isn’t bleeding anymore.

The other kids are huddled around a Fire and Rescue Squad already on site, and Mr. Mike leans on him a little the whole time they cross the chaotic streets.

Automatic gunfire rips through the daytime scramble of screaming civilians, fire and rescue trying to put out flames and pry people out of their cars, trying to contain the madness.

Two-Face is standing up out of the sunroof of his getaway car, Tommy gun going off in rapid bursts while he laughs and laughs and laughs.

“It’s a good day for a trip to downtown! Love ya, Gotham!”

And someone... someone has to do something!

(Maybe be can follow and-and try to keep them from getting away until Bruce and Jay– no, Batman and Robin–can get here!)

He still has the fire extinguisher held tightly in one arm while he slips his hand out of Mr. Mike’s when the paramedics grab the injured bus driver and herd the other kids inside Gotham Water Works to get the civilians away from the rampaging villain, standard protocol really.

But Timmy is so small, and he can fit in some of the best places. He can dart to the side and hide in the right ways so nobody even sees him.

It’s easy to slip away from the group, leaving the fire extinguisher in his place to scramble up the pipe drain to the fire escape where he can see better.

He still has his backpack, so he has pepper spray, his homework, and something he might have accidentally taken from one of the crime scenes in Gotham when he was out on his own.

(Jay never has to know it’s one of Robin’s. None of them ever have to know he figured it out.)

He huffs as he climbs up the fire escape with shaky arms and sweaty hands, his knees trembly and his belly fluttering. He thinks about just reaching up to grab the next rung, to keep stepping up, tries to keep his mind on the next step up instead of getting scared at how high he’s climbing. He thinks about how Robin had to have been scared his first time on the rooftops too, how scared Batman must have been back when he’d first started out.

It’s the strength he imagines they must have had to overcome their fears and still leap out into the night, how terrified they must have been against some of the worst criminals the first time, how they didn’t ever stop when people were in danger. It’s really their strength that gets him up to the first floor on wobbly legs. It’s their strength that makes him breathe, keeps him from running away when people on the street could be in trouble.

He runs across to look down over the other side, watches as the madman laughs more and fires his guns in the air, screaming at Gotham because “here’s your downtown beautification!”

Timmy gasps for breath, ducks down when he hears the soft metallic pings all around him.

In the alley next to where Two-Face’s goons are moving toward Gotham Bank & Trust, going to scare the patrons and get the room ready for the big boss’s dramatic entrance, the little boy flings his backpack off and digs around inside.

The bottom has a little lose thread, something he’d noticed keeps the two pieces of canvas sewn together. Once it started unravelling, he could fit his finger into a nice little pocket he’d made–

–for the thing he’s going to need if he’s going to try keeping Two-Face from getting away until Batman and Robin come to their rescue. Dangerous-looking and heavy, the Batarang is heavy in his hand when it’s folded closed.

In his own room, after Mrs. Mac left for the night and he was all by himself, he’d flip it around, flip it open, pretend he was standing by Batman and Robin, fighting the good fight with them! The plastic black mask from last year’s Zorro costume and the blanket off his bed tied around his neck, all of it made him feel real.

But this...this is more real than that, more important.

He needs to help them, he needs to stop the bad guy from getting away to hurt more people. He needs to–

(be a hero)

–have a plan.

Luckily, the cheap mask is in the hidden pocket along with the Batarang, but putting it on out here with one of the Rogue Gallery’s fearsome bad guys right below him makes it so much more important than when he was playing at being a hero in his room. The mask is more than plastic and string, more than playing.

He feels taller, stronger, like he can do what he needs to do, like he’s wearing a cape and gloves and gauntlets. Like he’s standing between the people of Gotham and those Tommy guns.

(I have to keep Two-Face from getting away. Just until Batman and Robin can get here. I have to be brave, I have to do this!)

His jaw clenches tight, and little Timmy Drake puts his backpack back on quickly, slides the Batarang in the back of his jeans so it’s easy to reach, and throws himself on the ladder going back down to street level.

He drops the last two or so feet and manages not to fall too hard or draw attention to himself, keeps his eye on the car that has screeched to a halt right by bank. Two-Face has stopped shooting, is reloading the Tommy gun while he steps out of the car, and looks like he’s about to make a grand entrance.

With his heart beating in his throat, wishing he hadn’t lost his cellphone when the bus was hit, Timmy peeks around the wall of the alleyway, watches everyone pile out of the car and move to the front doors. His mouth is dry, his knees are a little wobbly still, but it’s going to be okay.

Batman and Robin have to be on the way.

**

Two-Face’s goons throw the door to the bank open wide for him, and all of them walk inside.

It’s the chance he needs to sneak out of the alley to the getaway car, fighting down the panic and bitter taste of bile in the back of his mouth.

The soft sigh when he flips open the Batarang gives him courage, reminds him that he can do this. He has to do this.

Crouching down, he uses both hands to drive the Batarang into the back tire as hard as he can, grunting with the effort to get it through to puncture.

The scratches in his palms hurt because he’s gripping the Batarang so hard, but he’s helping Batman and Robin, so it’ll all be okay.

For good measure he moves to the front and does the same, straining with the effort, eyes watery because his hands hurt more now, but he makes himself sniffle softly and blink rapidly while the air hisses out.

He flips the Batarang closed and turns to run back to his alley before the bad guys come out and catch him. He thinks he’s home free, the car is disabled, and there’s no one out on the street to get shot at.

He did it!

Timmy gets one foot out to run, grinning below the mask and his heart pounding in his chest, happy that he actually helped.

...until a hand snatches his backpack and pulls him right off his feet, dangling him from an angry grip.

“Why you little!”

His heart slams against his rib cage, breath choking him for an important second.

Caught!

“Lemme go!” while he kicks his feet uselessly, throws his arms out, trying to get down, get away before Two-Face comes out of that bank.

“D’ ya have any idea what he’s gonna do ta ya when he sees this?” The angry adult yells in his face. The small boy gasps at the sour smell of the masked man’s breath, hands rough and bruising, shaking him hard, snapping his head back on his fragile neck. “He’s gonna make an example outta ya, kid.”

The mask on his face almost falls off with the shaking, and fear leaps into his mouth again, coppery for real because he’s bitten his tongue.

His legs are wobbly when the goon pretty much drops him back to the ground, shoves him around the car with a hand on the back of his neck, holding him there for the terrifying gangster about to come out of the bank they’ve robbed and see what’s done to their getaway car.

The sneer on the good half of the villain’s face is terrifying, but Timmy forces his legs to hold him up, even with the other thug’s hand on the back of his neck pushing him down.

“Looks like we got us a hero, boys. Another fucking mask.”

A masked goon to the gangster’s right hand, steps up, gun pointed at the sky. His eyes shift from Two-Face to the kid, a bag of money in his other hand.

“Looks like he’s just a kid, boss. They recruiting from kindergarten now?”

Timmy presses his lips together to keep from snapping back because he’s in first grade you jerk! Instead, he has to make them underestimate him, not make them mad enough to hurt him or use him as a hostage when Batman and Robin appear.

The sharp lapels on Two-Face’s suit are crisp and clean over the holster Tim can see underneath when the villain leans down to put them face-to-face, the distorted eye somehow still seeing him, staring him down, looking at him like he isn’t even wearing a mask.

“I’ve got to tell you, squirt, mask isn’t a good look for you. That is just going to get you in trouble.” A finger pokes into his chest to emphasize the point, and he can’t recoil from the touch because the other goon behind him grips the back of his neck harder in warning.

Even if his mouth dry, the little boy still sucks in a deep breath, still tries to be strong, keep everyone busy until the heroes get here without getting himself deeper into hot water. “Y-you’re stealing! And-and people need their money! They might lose their houses if you take it!”

The laugh is twisted and wrong, making his knees shake, and his instincts screaming at him to runrunrun!

But he can’t, the hand on the back of his neck is holding him in place, and he’s surrounded.

“Kid...you need to learn how the world really works,” and the villain straightens up, mouth twisting up in a grotesque half smile. A hand disappears in his pocket, comes out with–

–the coin.

Tim’s eyes are drawn to the metal slipping over Two-Face’s fingers, the movement hypnotic in the middle of a deserted Gotham street.

(Please, please, please hurry. Please hurry.)

But he’s not tossing the coin yet, so-so it could still be okay!

“You look around this city, and what do you see? All those criminals locked up? For what, a few weeks? And then they’re out, playing the same old game. Just like us,” and the coin pauses between two fingers. “And the regular people, just like you and your precious little family, are scurrying like cockroaches between bombs and muggings and toxic gas, trying to make it through another day.”

Two-Face is getting angrier and meaner, his snarling lip and shark-like smile, the coin balanced precariously between his fingers.

“And all of it? All of it is just about chance, kid.”

Timmy swallows when expert fingers nudge the coin flat on top of the thumb, and his stomach abruptly drops.

“It’s 50/50 all around. Whether the next bomb gets you, the next prison break, the next car crash, the next robbery. It’s all a matter of chance.”

The coin trembles in Timmy’s peripheral, and he’s holding on to the folded Batarang tucked into his sleeve so hard his hand is starting to hurt.

(He doesn’t want to use it. He doesn’t want to shove it in Two-Face’s knee to give himself enough time to run. He won’t have to use it because Batman and Robin are going to save him.)

But Two-Face is half smiling again, reaching in his jacket for the gun in his holster, ignoring the scream of sirens in the air. One of his henchmen utter a soft, desperate “boss?” that’s met with a quirked brow before the thug goes silent again.

“So, I’m going to give you a chance, kiddo, and I’m going to be real fair about it, see?” The half smile is anything but nice, is scary enough to make his knees weak again because he really doesn’t believe that.

“I’m going to flip this coin.”

And the scratched side glints in the sun between the gangster’s fingers.

“If it lands on heads, then I’m going to shoot you in the head, clean and quick. You won’t even feel it. But if it lands on tails, then I’m going to shoot you in the stomach. And that, kid, is gonna hurt real bad. You’re going to die slow and painful.”

The manic grin widens as Two-Face drops the bag of money and reaches into his two-tone jacket to pull the handgun out of the holster, the barrel long and shiny as it emerges.

Timmy’s eyes go wide when the barrel is levelled with his forehead, feels the sob trapped somewhere in chest, feels his hands shaking with the Batarang in his sleeve, feels his eyes get wet behind the mask.

“Good luck,” is from the thug still holding him.

But Timmy doesn’t hear it, can only hope he’s strong enough, fast enough to flip the Batarang out and stab Two-Face in the hand or thigh, can only hope he’s brave enough to save himself.

He can only hope Batman and Robin will get there in time.

His pulse beats in the back of his mouth when the resounding ting is the coin being flipped up in the air.  

They’re going to save the city. They’re going to save me.

Because he believes in them.

He believes.

Little Timmy Drake, clenches the Batarang, hiding behind his mask, squinches his eyes closed, bites down on his lip–

–and he believes.

It’s a breath, a gasp, a moment when the coin is knocked out of the air in mid-flip by a Batarang with a crazy arc and a whole lot of practice.

Timmy hears Two-Face yelling in rage that the coin was knocked off course, but all of it is drowned out as vigilantes leap down from the sky like avenging angels in a rare, daytime appearance.

The Batman lands it right next to the villain and thug holding a little boy in the mask while Robin unfailingly rolls behind the line of thugs and takes most of the out with sheer momentum.

The other two get taken out with a combination of punches and kicks, making Timmy’s mouth drop open in sheer awe.

The Batman doesn’t even look at the thug holding him. One second the Dark Knight lands it, the next his arm is just somehow extended and the man that was holding Timmy is suddenly laying on the ground against the getaway car with his eyes lolling in the back of his head.

The sudden lack of support makes little Timmy fall down on his butt, legs still quivery with fear, watching with wide eyes as the frightening vigilante raises a gauntleted forearm, the spikes on it gleaming dangerously.

“Causing trouble again, Harvey?” Darkly growled low, the form in the Batsuit just as imposing, just as terrifying in person as in some of his blurry pictures against the dark Gotham night.

Subtle but pointed, the vigilante puts himself in front of the little boy that has slumped to the ground, a flip of the cape hides him from sight, gives him a moment to shake, and make sure his mask is still in place.

The villain’s laugh is terrifying, in the same way he said shoot you in the head without even pausing.

“You know us, Bats. We like to stay front and center!”

He loses the banter while the other thugs go down and the fight between Batman and Two-Face starts with the gun knocked away in the first sweeping backhand. He doesn’t notice when Robin leaps up on the trunk of the getaway car because he’s trying to gasp in a shaky breaths, watching the Batman move on the offense, punches emphasized with meaty sounds as they land on the villain’s face.

Robin is in front of him so fast, grabbing him up in both arms like a baby, and sprinting away from the scene to duck them back in the alley to be away from the ensuing fight.

“Kid, kid,” shakes him because even with the tunic and boots, the mask and utility belt, he knows. “Ya hurt? Two-Face rough ya up?”

Robin is putting him down in the alley, quickly checking him for injuries, winces at the cuts on his palms from the broken glass and sharp metal on his overturned bus. Still in Timmy’s other hand is the folded Batarang, and Timmy doesn’t need to see the raised eyebrow obscured by the mask to know it’s there.

“I-I needed it. The Batarang. The tires– I...I couldn’t let them get away until you got here.” And now that the gun isn’t pointed at his head, his eyes get hot and wet, his lower lip trembling at the fear and adrenaline still coursing through him.

When Robin just blinks down at him, he expects the Batarang to get taken away and maybe a quick, stern lecture about stealing.

But Robin just shakes his head a little and a crooked smile cuts across his face, a low chuckle when he replies, “I might know something about that. All right, stay here. I’ll come getcha after he’s down fer the count. Looks like Batman needs Robin right about now,” and the Boy Wonder salutes him with two fingers (like a hero) and takes off out of the alley to rejoin the fight.

Once he feels like he can stand without falling over, little Timmy peeks from around the corner, his heart pounding as he watches the way they work together, the way Robin uses Batman’s back to propel him into giving Two-Face an amazingly effective punch! Right to the distorted side of his face!

And when Two-Face picks up the Tommy gun again to try for another shot, Robin is the one throwing a Batarang to knock the gun away, back-to-back with the Batman while smoke pellets hit the ground at the feet of the thugs trying to get back up.

Batman doesn’t waste a second, turning with Robin to face the gangster again and deliver a vicious uppercut with a follow-up punch to the solar plexus. At the same time, Robin jumps up, both feet knocking two thugs out colder than the pellets.

(Batman needs Robin…)

It’s so amazing to watch, his mouth dropping open in wonder as the Caped Crusaders move like water and wind, in perfect sync, ducking and dodging around one another like they’ve always worked together, like they’re a team, and it makes his chest feel tight, so tight, but not in a bad way when things are terrifying and there’s nowhere safe–

(except for Wayne Manor)

–when living in Gotham is always, always so dangerous. But watching them, biting down on his lip, he forgets about how much his hands hurt, how scared he’d been when Two-Face was going to shoot him. He gets to be relieved enough for his knees to wobble, for his eyes to get hot and spill over just a little.

The crime fighters effortlessly put Two-Face and his goons down on the ground just as the GCPD’s mobile unit hit the scene to surround the perimeter.

Little Timmy pulls the mask off, wiping at his wet eyes as Commissioner Gordon approaches the downed villain and victorious vigilantes first, flanked by his team who are already fanning out to start rounding up the bad guys.

Robin glances over, looking for him, and Timmy shrinks back a little when Robin goes still. The Boy Wonder straightens up and subtly tugs on the side of Batman’s cape.

The cowl turns, and then follows Robin’s line of sight to the little boy standing in the alley that had been in the middle of the fray, that could have been seriously hurt by Two-Face...

Batman doesn’t make even a tic but a gloved hand squeezes Robin’s wrist as he turns back to Gordon to finish the details, fast and efficient.

(Faster than he had before he’d seen Tim Drake in the mouth of the alley, realized their favorite neighbor had been facing down on of Gotham’s worst criminals. It’s their little Tim and no way can he explain to Jim, the police, or anyone else why Batman would be carrying a small boy with him to fly through Gotham. He’d need his daytime identity. Fast.)

Before Timmy can try to scramble back up the fire escape, two uniformed police officers stumble upon him and immediately start yelling for medics.

Uh-oh.

The bang is grapples firing and the Dynamic Duo taking to the rooftops, leaving Gotham’s finest to clean up the mess and latch on to the young boy in the alley, pulling him toward the emergency crews setting up just outside the perimeter.

(He’s feeling a little woozy, his legs only half-working, so maybe...maybe it’s a good idea to see the paramedics after all.)

And even with all the yelling and scrambling movement, Timmy is a little dazed, watching Batman and Robin take to the rooftops, his heart in his wet eyes.

The detectives that get him to an ambulance are nice, and so is the medic that looks at the scratches, some with glass that needs to come out.

The burn cream hurts, like really hurts, and now that Batman and Robin are gone, he can let himself flinch a little. When she asks, he tells her the bus number a few streets over and how he’s glad everyone made it out okay. He just happened to get lost when everyone scrambled from it before it, you know, blew up or something.

He knows she’s not going to ask too many questions when she smiles gently down at him and bandages his hands. So, instead of asking to call a parent or guardian, she can drop him off to the Fire and Rescue Squad, and maybe he can slip away to catch a ride home without anyone asking being the wiser–

–which fails pretty epically when a disheveled Bruce Wayne comes straight at him through the crowd, Jason right on his heels.

(Mr. Bruce’s waist is lumpy under his shirt. He must not have taken off the utility belt.)

“Tim!” Mr. Bruce pushes to one side of the gurney he’s sitting on, and Jay pushes to the other, a hand just suddenly on the wrist the EMT isn’t wrapping up. But it’s nice when the hand is heavy on his shoulder instead of the back of his neck, pulling him against a broad chest.

(He can almost feel the yellow oval against his cheek)

“Tim! Alfred said your bus was attacked! I’m so glad I found you–”

“We, B,” Jason reminds him idly, looking down at Timmy with the exact same smile–

(Really is my Robin, Timmy thinks now that he can relax a little, thinks it’s funny how Batman and Robin are going to save him again.)

“Of course, Jay, we found you!”

“It’s...it’s okay,” he says lamely, one hand already worrying at the hem of Mr. Bruce’s wrinkled jacket, relaxing in the strong hold, trying to hide the fact he’s tearing up because now his hand and arms hurt. “Everyone got out, and Mr. Mike is going to be okay and Two-Face is going to Arkham and–”

“What’s ‘bout ya, Timmers?” Jay interrupts, staring down the EMT winding a final bandage around Tim’s hand, “lookit! Ya got hurt, didn’t ya? B, we gotta get ‘im home, you feel me? Looks like our guy needs some cookies n’ milk n’ a movie ta calm ‘im down.”

“We absolutely will, Jay. Alfred will be so relieved.” And Mr. Bruce’s hand in his hair is making him so sleepy, the nails scratching gently along his scalp so nice. “On the way home, you can call Dick, let him know what happened and Tim is okay.”

That makes Timmy smile because Dick likes to cuddle him, and he won’t even mind if he’s laying on his hurt arm because Dick’s cuddles are the best.

“Mr. Wayne,” one of the EMTs begins hesitantly, “this boy–”

“Is our neighbor. He’s staying with us while his parents are out of the country.” Mr. Bruce doesn’t miss a beat, already sliding an arm under Timmy’s knees. “We’re responsible for him.”

“Okay, well, here’s some extra bandages for his hands. All of his vitals are good and he’s not exhibiting signs of shock or further distress. Keep an eye on him anyway, just in case.”

“We certainly will. Thank-you for taking care of him,” and Bruce doesn’t hesitate to lift, pull Timmy against a broad, powerful chest while he’s talking, letting the little boy rest limply against him. Jay snags his backpack where he’d stashed his mask and Batarang, wondering if both would be gone by the time they got to the Manor.

It’s a credit as to how awful Mr. Bruce is playing Brucie Wayne because he avoids the media instead of acting like he’s silly, another way of hiding the Batman away.

Jay paces beside them as they cut through a back alley to get out of the war zone caused by Two-Face’s impromptu bank visit.

With the gentle swaying and immeasurable strength holding him, Tim sinks further down into Mr. Bruce’s strength, not really hearing the low talk between them as they walk.

The Rolls is there between one blink and the next, Mr. Alfred ruffling his hair as he opens the back door.

“He got a little banged up in the scuffle today, Alfred. I think he’s more than deserved dessert.”

“You say that based merely for injuries sake, Master Bruce. I shall be the judge after we see how Master Timothy did on his spelling homework.”

“Ssorry, Mr. Alfred,” the little boy slurs, eyes-half mast, “the bus was late.”

Jay laughs a little and lays a warm palm on Timmy’s forehead, “Yeah, yeah. S’okay, Timmers. Long as yer in one piece, I’d say it’s been a good day.”

“Not mad?” But his eyes are fluttering closed already, and his little chest lifts in a sigh.

“At you, dear boy? Never,” and Mr. Alfred opens the back door with a small smile and fond eyes. Mr. Bruce is easy when he chuckles low and ducks down into the Rolls with Tim on his lap and Jay nudged up against his side.

The car moves slowly through the wrecked part of the city until they’re on the highway, heading to Wayne Manor, and the motion of the car lulls him closer and closer to sleep. His hands resting palm up on his legs, and Mr. Bruce a mass of strength around him.

“S’all good,Timmy,” and even though he’s starting to drift, he still hears Jay mutter, “don’t cha take on anymore baddies. Gonna gimmie a heart attack, you feel me?”

B’s voice is soft when he murmurs back, “what was he doing there?”

“Takin’ out Harv’s tires if ya can believe it.”

“Somehow, I’m not really surprised.” Is less Mr. Bruce and more Batman.

“Ya know, B. It’s been a year. Maybe it’s time ta–”

“No. I mean, not yet, Jay. The longer he doesn’t know, the easier it will be to keep him safe.”

“Pfft. Whatevah ya say, Boss. Eventually, I ain’t gonna fit in the shorts no more. Then who’s gonna watch yer ass?”

“That’s not happening anytime soon. For the moment, we try to keep him away from escaped members of the Rogue Gallery.”

“I believe that is the most sound plan, Master Bruce.”

“Thank-you, Alfred. Maybe we can order some pizza for him tonight. What do you think?”

“Aw, c’mon, Alf! We gotta injured bird here.”

“Well. As much as I detest such ready-made slop, I supposed I shall allow it this time. As our young charge certainly deserves a reward for aiding Batman and Robin.”

The soft shifting is Mr. Bruce laughing and as he drifts off, Timmy smiles to himself again.

He can already smell the pizza.

[scaryscarecrows]

Roots and Leaves, Pt. 8

All done!

“-son. Master Jason.”

Fuck, Alfred’s dead? The end is extremely fucking nigh.

But, if he’s going to be selfish (which got him into this, you’d think he’d learn)…at least he has company in…wherever this is.

His hands still hurt, though, which he finds very unfair.

“You are no better at feigning unconsciousness than you were at fifteen, sir.”

He’s not tryin’ to…

Why does Death look like his old bedroom. Is this some sorta ‘ease into it’ area?

“There you are.”

“Alfie?”

Alfred hasn’t changed one bit. Jason will bet that his mustache hasn’t even grown, or shed a hair, or anything.

“How are you-”

Alfred.

He hugs him and he hasn’t changed, not one goddamn bit. Alfred hugs him back, one hand cupping his neck and the other moving firmly up and down his spine. Alfred’s here, everything’s gonna be okay, at least for another minute…

The hand on his spine moves and his head’s tilted up with a soft, “Oh, my boy.”

It’s over. Any dignity he had is gone. He presses his face against Alfred’s chest (fabric softener Earl Grey home) and doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not crying. He’s never been able to keep anything from Alfred anyway.

“M’sorry.”

“Oh, my boy,” Alfred says again, and those sturdy hands press against his head and neck. “There is nothing to apologise for.”

He tries to take a few deep breaths, to get himself under control for fuck’s sake, and can’t. He can’t do it anymore.

But Alfred is a literal saint, and he doesn’t try to coax him to talk or to sit up or to do anything at all, even after his jacket must be soaked through. He just sits there, marginally more slumped than he usually is, and rubs a hand in slow, steady circles over Jason’s shoulders.

At some point, he senses a presence in the doorway, but before he can straighten up it’s gone again and now, without that motivation, it’s easier to just stay here where it’s safe and warm.

He eventually runs out of tears but his face is now wet and swollen and hot. His nose feels like it’s swollen shut and he’s been reduced to careful, thought-out breaths that rattle in his throat and burn in his chest. Sitting up is too much work.

Alfred props him up anyway and rubs a cool washcloth over his face before letting him take it and hold it against his now-puffy eyelids.

“That’s it, Master Jason.” If Bruce is Sherlock Holmes, then Alfred is Watson. They don’t deserve him. “That’s it. Deep breaths, there we are.”

“M’sorry, Alfie,” he forces out, voice strangled. “M’sorry-”

“That’s enough of that.”

“But-”

“I won’t hear any more of that.” Oh, boy. That’s the ‘you’re on thin ice and should just shut up’ voice. Even now, it’s scary and he doesn’t have the courage to go against it.

A straw presses against his lips-limeade-and Alfred continues, a little gentler now, “I cannot imagine that you purposefully buried yourself for any reason, Master Jason. Am I correct?”

He laughs. He can’t help it. It sounds so nice put like that.

“No. No, I…I didn’t. I didn’t.” He is not going to start crying again. He refuses. Sheila flashes behind his eyes, blonde and blue and red, and he presses the washcloth down hard enough to hurt. “I…she s-said. She said she was out. Sh-she said she was out, Alfred, I thought…just once…”

“From the beginning, Master Jason.” Calm, but making it very clear that he doesn’t have a choice. “Who is ‘she’?”

He swallows, knows he’s imagining something squirming at the back of his throat. Alfred waits.

“Sheila Haywood,” he finally whispers. “I…Bruce’s files…she might have been my mother.”

He doesn’t have to look to know Alfred’s got that little frown between his eyebrows, the one that says he’s deeply upset. Jason presses the washcloth tighter against his eyes, sparking colors, and his wrist is tugged at until the colors die off.

“I just…she approached me, Alfie, I swear, I didn’t…I just thought…” He swallows again, forces himself to let the washcloth fall to his lap. “M’tired of bein’ second choice, Alfred.”

He doesn’t have time to brace himself before he’s pulled back down and somehow…folded…so that he’s tucked against Alfred’s chest like he’s thirteen again and still fits.

“Jason Peter Todd,” Aw, shit. “you have never been second choice, do you understand?”

But…

Look. He’s very well aware that he wouldn’t be here if Dick hadn’t had that fallout with Bruce. And oh, boy, has he ever learned the Joys of Being the Second Child-‘Dick did this’, ‘Dick did that’, and on and on and on. He’s come to terms with that fact, it’s fine, whatever.

But arguing that point (or any point) with Alfred is a Bad Idea.

And. And he’s here, now, because Bruce…Bruce came to pick him up, when he asked. So. That means something, doesn’t it?

His head hurts.

Alfred sighs at his non-answer but lets it go for the time being.

“What happened with Miss Haywood?”

He’s not moving. He’s staying right here until this is all over.

“Some moron tried to hold up the grocery store…”

* * *

Jason feigns sleep for the rest of the day, until Bruce is out on patrol. Sneaking past the Batman isn’t impossible, but it’s definitely hard and with his hands almost completely useless, well…

The last thing he wants or needs is a lecture on Trust and Rushing Into Things and Dammit, Jason, This is What Got You Captured by the Joker. He knows that, thanks, Bruce.

(And yeah, okay, he knows lectures are Bruce’s way of saying I Love You, but some people swear a punch to the face is an I Love You, so.)

Sneaking past Alfred, on the other hand…now that really is impossible.

He’s halfway down the stairs when there’s an irritated, “A-HEM,” from behind him. Crap.

“I was thirsty?”

Alfred gets this expression that Jason will swear means he’s envisioning smacking him upside the head with a rolled-up newspaper. Yeah. Okay. Game’s up.

“I just…I need some time,” he says, eyes fixed on a knot in the wooden banister. “I can’t face him, Alfred, not now.”

Not for a long time, probably. Not without a massive blow-up on both sides and it’s better if no one else is around to be caught in that crossfire.

And besides. Right now, he just…his apartment may be kinda crappy, but it’s not haunted by a stupid kid who swore up and down that

“Being Robin gives me magic!”

“This is the best day of my life.”

There’s too many ghosts in this house.

Alfred comes forward and pats his shoulder.

“At least permit me to provide you with a few easy-to-reheat meals.”

“I’m okay-”

“Humor an old man.”

That is a trap. That is a trap, it’s just better to nod and neither protest or nor agree. And he’s got time, before Bruce gets back.

“Thanks, Alfred.”

“Hm.”

He’s ushered towards the kitchen. It hasn’t changed a bit-still homey and warm and with those same comfy stools by the counter. He remembers having after-school snacks there and chattering a mile a minute about ‘so Mister Pierce set his desk on fire in chemistry and it was so cool I gotta try that y’think B’ll let me-?’

“If I hear one word about you being out before those hands have healed, there is no power on Heaven or Earth that will spare you, is that clear?”

He believes. He believes.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” An icebox appears out of nowhere. “Do you need a ride?”

“No, I, uh…I called an Uber. I didn’t think I could drive.”

“Wise choice.” Alfred sets the icebox down and grips Jason’s arms. “You will always have a home with us, Master Jason. Remember that.”

He is not going to start crying again. He is not.

“Thanks, Alfred.”

* * *

The Uber guy is more interested in his radio than in Jason and that’s just fine. It means he’s not going to pester him, which means that he can twist around to watch Wayne Manor shrink into the distance through back window.

When he gets home, he opens his e-mail. Nothing new, but Sheila’s are still there. He deletes most of them.

But.

He can’t. Even now, after everything, he can’t bring himself to hate her. Not really.

He moves the remaining few to his ‘save it’ folder, where he won’t open them by mistake, and goes outside for a cigarette. Lighting it’s a pain, and there’s a few minutes that he’s terrified that he’s going to light the bandages on his hands on fire, but he manages it, in the end, and leans on the railing to watch the cars go by below.

In another unit, he can hear Mz. Melinda May cackling and a handful elderly voices swearing and demanding she be thrown out. Maybe he’ll go over there tomorrow, make sure she hasn’t downloaded a crap-ton of computer viruses again. (And yeah, okay, he wants to know about the yelling.)

There’s a sudden movement in the shadows across the street and he goes inside, turns on the TV. He’s halfway through an episode of Chopped when a red bar pops up on the bottom saying, Batman recaptures Harley Quinn, more at eleven.

A knot in his chest he didn’t realize was there loosens up and he pulls his blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“Thanks, B.”

THE END

[catxsnow]

Fluff alphabet with Tim? 🥺👉🏽👈🏽

ah you know I love Tim Drake more than anything 

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

I'm a firm believer that Tim likes to admire your hands. He loves to hold them and play with your fingers. Most importantly, he loves when you run them through his hair. Late nights of working you'll massage his neck and shoulders and Tim just melts into you.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Yes. Tim doesn't want to have kids until he's completely out of there hero gig. He doesn't want t to pull a Bruce and have his kid be raised like a Robin rather than just a normal kid. 

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

Tim's a I'm-gonna-hold-you-as-close-as-I-can-for-as-long-as-I-can kinda guy. It doesn't matter how as long as you're there. His favourite is when he's the big spoon. D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Bruce taught him well when it came to expensive dates. He would always spoil you with a ridiculously fancy meal but the second that you got home was when your favourite part of the date would occur. The both of you would get into comfy clothes and get Alfred to set up a movie for you. E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world...))

You are the light at the end of this tunnel F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

It took Dick to point it out to Tim. Love wasn't on his mind until his brother off-handedly said it one day and he couldn't stop thinking about it. He knew it was true when he saw you next and he couldn't imagine what his life would be like without you. G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

Extremely so. Tim sees a lot of terrible things in his life and he doesn't want to show that side of him with you. He's always delicate around you even though he knows you could take some gruesomeness sometimes. The worst is when he's sleeping next to you and he has a nightmare. He's terrified that he's going to accidentally hurt you. H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Tim's a classic intertwined fingers kinda guy. He loves to draw little shapes in your skin with his thumb. Second favourite is when he's sitting in the computer hair down in the cave and your rest your hand on his shoulder - he'll always grab it and rest it there. I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

If someone can deal with Damian's attitude for ten minutes straight like you did, he was sure that there was nothing that could get you angry. Tim knew you were the one when he saw you stay calm with his family. J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Mildly. Tim doesn't feel the need to get jealous but when someone takes it too far with you he can't stop himself. He'll always put himself between you and the person you're talking to and if he's really feeling jealous he'll kiss you as well. K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

Tim was the one who initiated it. You were working on something together and he just swooped in for a kiss. Even though it was just a peck you pulled him back for longer.  Tim is handsy when he kisses you. Whether his hands are rested on the side of your face or your hips, he needs to hold you.

L = Love (Who says 'I love you' first?)

It's some weird crazy accident that the two of you say it at the exact same time. You're laying together in his bed, half asleep but refusing to let it happen. You both mumble it at the same time. M = Memory (What's their favourite memory together?)

You asked if Tim could take you out in the city while he was Red Robin. Obviously he wasn't going to fight crime while you were there, but he took you swinging around the city on his grappling gun. He still can hear your laughter and screams of excitement. N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Yes. Tim's rich, he buys you whatever you want no matter the cost. Not to mention whenever Bruce throws a Gala he buys you the most expensive dress on the market for you to wear to it. He spoils you as much as he can. O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Green. It's the opposite of red. Tim hates thinking about his life as Red Robin when he's with you and he always associates the color red with that life. Since green is the exact opposite of it, and you're the exact opposite of all the gruesome horrible things he bares, he thinks of you when he sees it. P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

my love, cutie, baby, when he's teasing you he calls you princess Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

The only time Tim is excited to step away from his computers is to spend it outside with you. Walks in the park or even around his massive yard with you brighten his day tenfold. R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Bruce instilled it in him to train. Most days he does and you're just sitting off to the side admiring him. It's not his favourite go to, but it sure as hell is one of yours. Tim likes to go shopping in the mall on rainy days and you can't change my mind. S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Before you, Tim had a bad habit of letting himself self-destruct when he was upset. You ensured him that whenever he was feeling down that he should go to you first. It took him a while to accept your help, but now he comes to you with his body slouching and in need of your touch. Tim doesn't always need advice from you, sometimes he just needs to know that you're supporting his choices. T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Tim loves to talk about his friends. He always goes on these amazing adventures and missions with them and he loves to talk about how cool they are to you. Conner, Cassie and Bart are basically your best friends as well after you hear so much about them. To be fair, when he's with them, he talks about you even more. U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

There's nothing better than you offering a massage to him after a long day. Tim will lay on your bed, shirt off and just melting into your kneading hands. It nearly puts him to sleep every time. V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

As Bruce Wayne's son, he loves to show off you. The paps always get pictures of the two of you together and he loves to know that the whole city sees just how perfect you are together. However, as Red Robin, he loves to show off all the people he saves to you. He's so incredibly proud of the work he does and you are too. W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

He proposes twice. Tim does it the first time in private. It's just the two of you in the comfort of his bed and being absolutely in love. He's just casually brings it up and you couldn't be more excited. However, being a Wayne kid he does it a second time in public. Very dramatic, very public, and very acted reactions. X = Xylophone (What's their song?)

Vivid by Brockhampton Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Yes. Tim loves you more than anyone in this world. Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

A cat. They take care of themselves and he doesn't have to worry about it dying when he disappears for three days straight.

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Pretty Kiddie Bird

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC, BatFam - Dick Grayson/Robin/Nightwing

Rating: PG-11 (verbal fighting)

Original Idea: That Titans trailer and me remembering that Dick was the original person 100% done with Bruce’s crap.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) It’s always fun to explore alternate relationship types, right? XD AKA who doesn’t need a little loving and caring Big Brother Dick in their lives, amirite? @welovegroot @batboys-and-other-messes

^^^^^

Robin and Batman both jumped out of the Batmobile the second it screeched to a halt in the cave. I’d been sitting on the stairs with a notebook for three hours, waiting for them to come home.

They were fighting again.

Robin peeled off his mask and threw it on the ground. “—need to stop treating me like a kid, Bruce!” he was in the middle of saying. “I'm not an eight-year-old anymore!”

I knew what was coming next.

“Maybe if you stopped acting like a child I’d stop treating you like one!” Batman retorted.

Yup. Called it.

“You wouldn’t know the difference between optimism and immaturity if it smacked you in the face with a wet fish!” Dick snapped, yanking off his yellow cape and throwing it off to the side. I sighed and looked down at my notebook, tuning them out. The arguments were getting more frequent now. Dick and Bruce never saw entirely eye-to-eye, but usually got along well enough.

Tonight’s fight was one of the most explosive I’d ever witnessed. I could tell because their shouts were echoing through the cave and the words they were throwing at each other were much more biting than usual. I swallowed hard and tried to slowly ease out of the Batcave.

Once I was back in the manor, I let tears slip down my face as I made my way to my bedroom.

Alfred was attracted to a crying child the way college students were to free pizza, because he turned up out of nowhere. “What’s the matter?” he asked, gathering me into a comforting hug.

“Dick and Bruce are fighting again.”

“Mm. I see,” Alfred said. “And do their words hurt you?”

“Yes.”

“But their words are not directed at you.”

“No. But they’re hurting each other, and that’s hurting me.”

“Ah. You’ve always had a heart full of love, child. I told Master Wayne from the beginning that he should have left you out of this crusade of his. That you would end up more damaged in the long-run because you have so much sympathy and compassion for those around you that all you would end up was hurt. He insisted that would make you the best partner. But should you ever wish to back out—”

I shook my head. “No, Alf,” I said. “I like this life. I just don’t like watching Dick and Bruce fight.”

“Nor do I, little one.” He ruffled my hair. “Let’s get you up to bed and hope by morning that your father and brother solve their issue.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

Alfred took me up to my bedroom and turned down my covers for me while I showered and put on my pajamas. He was gone when I emerged, but he’d set my notebook on my bedside table, perfectly aligned with the corners.

I climbed into bed and pulled my covers up. If I listened really hard, I could still hear Bruce and Dick at each other’s throats.

Though, given the Batcave was soundproofed, it was probably just my imagination.

^^^^^

“Psst! Wake up, kiddo!” a familiar voice hissed.

I opened my eyes. “Dickie?” I mumbled.

“Yeah.”

“What’s going on?”

“Gimme a hug. I'm gonna go away for a while but I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to my favorite sister,” he said.

“‘M your only sister,” I muttered—then sat up, fully awake. “What do you mean you’re going away for a while?!”

Dick ruffled my messy, damp hair. “Shh! It’s okay. Bruce and I had a falling-out. I'm going to go prove I'm enough on my own.”

I threw my arms around him. “Don’t leave me!” I pleaded in a whisper, clinging to my brother desperately.

He snickered and hugged me back. “Don’t worry, pretty bird,” he replied quietly. “I'm not going away forever. Just gonna find my own way, you know?”

“No. No I don’t know,” I replied sharply.

“It’s gonna be okay. Just know that I love you and if you ever need me, you’ll know where and how to find me. I promise you that you will. You’re so smart and so capable. I swear, one day you’re gonna be the best of us,” Dick promised. “But I gotta go, ‘kay? Just wanted to come say goodbye and I love you.”

I held him tighter. “I love you too, Dick,” I whispered. “Want my help getting any of your stuff?”

“Nope. I'm all done. Just wanted to say bye.”

I buried my face in my brother’s shoulder. “Bye. Please come home.”

“We’ll see. But you’re always welcome to come find me. You’ll always be welcome wherever I go, you got that?”

I nodded. “Got it.”

“Good.” He pulled out of the hug and kissed my forehead. “It’ll turn out okay in the end, kiddo. You’ll see.” He gave me a small smile. “Love you, pretty bird.”

“Love you too.”

He pecked another kiss to my head and stole out of my room.

The second the door was closed I was jumping out of bed and running after him.

I caught up to him in the garage. “Where are you going?” I asked breathlessly.

He shrugged, leaning against the side of his car. “I don’t know yet. Me and Roy are going to figure some stuff out with some other friends of ours and then… I'm thinking about doing a little sightseeing in Blüdhaven,” he replied. “You’ll know how to find me if you need me, I promise. Bye kiddie bird.”

“Bye Dick,” I said.

He smiled and ducked into his car. The engine growled to life and he pulled out of the garage.

I sighed and sunk onto the floor in my pajamas, curling my knees up to my chest and crying.

Bruce, Alfred, and Dick were my family—my whole life. And I’d just had my big brother leave me.

I sobbed on the floor of the garage for hours—until Alfred found me when I hadn’t turned up for morning workout or breakfast. “Master Wayne, I found her,” he called over his shoulder. I curled tighter and tried to disappear.

Bruce came in and scooped me up into his arms, taking me out of the garage. “It’s okay,” he said, but he sounded stiff and unconvincing. He set me down at the breakfast table and wiped the wetness off my face with a handkerchief that Alfred produced from nowhere. “I know you and Dick were close,” Bruce continued. I hiccupped. “But—”

“But what?” I demanded with a trembling voice. “But nothing!” I smacked his hand away from my face and stormed out of the room. “My brother just left me!” I ran back to my room and slammed the door, locking it behind me. Sure my adoptive dad was Batman and could pick the lock in seconds, but I hoped he’d respect me enough to understand that my locked door meant I wanted privacy and leave me alone to have it.

I got back in my bed and buried myself under the covers, pulling them up over my head.

I could hear Bruce calling my name, and then Alfred asking politely if I’d come out to eat something. I ignored them both. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to be alone and figure out what I was feeling before listening to Bruce’s forced apologies and awkward attempts at comforting me even though my brother just walked out of my life because of Bruce.

^^^^^

“Nightwing!” I shouted, jogging over the rooftop to catch up to the Blüdhaven vigilante. He turned to see me.

A familiar smile split over his face. “There’s my pretty bird! How are you kiddo?” he asked, reaching back to stick his escrima sticks into their places on his back. I jumped on him into a hug, feeling him hug me back.

“I'm better for seeing you again,” I said. “You never came back!”

“I did a couple times. But you were never home. Who do you think gave Jason my old Robin uniform?”

“How come you didn’t come find me then?”

“I tried, but we’re all trained to be hard to find, you know that,” he teased.

I laughed and climbed off him. “How are the other Teen Titans?” I asked.

“They’re good. They’ve heard all about you from me. Starfire feels like she knows you,” he replied, ruffling my hair. “You wanna meet them?”

I nodded.

“Okay. We’ll make it happen. Not today, but soon,” he promised, setting his hand on my shoulder. “How’s everything? We haven’t talked in ages.”

“And whose fault is that?” I returned.

He sighed. “You’re right. I was just scared you’d be disappointed in me,” he admitted. “Thought you’d be angry that I left.”

I shrugged. “I was for a while. I got over it,” I said. “Then I was just sad. Everything’s mostly okay though. Bruce and Jason don’t fight as much, and when they do it’s about different things than you and Bruce used to fight about. Alfred is Alfred—what more can I say? But it’s been different without you. No one makes jokes in the cave as much. Bruce is still an emotionally constipated tree who doesn’t know how to handle social interaction. If Jason thinks it’s hard to fit in your shoes as Robin, it’s harder still for me to be the only light in the cave.”

Dick gave me a sympathetic smile and another hug. “It’s okay, cutie. You’ve always had it in you. And… I promise I’m gonna make an effort to swing by the house when you’re home to talk more. How’s that?”

“Better,” I said. “I just… I miss you.”

Dick squeezed me tighter. “I know. I miss you too, kiddo. A lot. But I can’t… I can’t be home all the time anymore. Bruce and I just… stopped seeing eye-to-eye.”

“I know,” I mumbled. “‘M sorry…”

“For what?” Dick asked, sounding confused.

“Your falling-out.”

“No. I'm sorry that you got stuck in the middle. I know you love B and you love me and it’s hard to watch two people you love not get along. I think… I don’t think either of us thought too much about how much it would hurt you to watch us fight.” He scratched the back of my head. “But you’re strong and tough and you made it through. I was just… I was done with him and his theatrics. He can be such a control freak sometimes—”

“Sometimes?” I challenged.

Dick smiled. “A lot of the time,” he amended. “And I just… ran out of patience for it, I guess.”

“I know. I'm growing out of it too. But for a long time I needed the structure his strictness provided. Now I'm good to work on my own. I just… need to handle it differently.”

I got my hair ruffled. “I know you will. You’re far more eloquent and patient than I am. You’re a lot smarter than me too. He’ll have to accept his baby girl is growing up and ready to make her own life.”

I giggled. “Yeah. Then maybe I can come visit more often!”

“I wish you would.” He laughed. “C’mon, pretty bird. Let’s get you back to Batdad before he gets worried.”

I laughed. “Fiiine!” I said playfully. Dick shook his head, an amused grin on his face and jerked his head in the direction of the Batcave.

Sharing a smile, we took off for home.

[gojaimas]

Chapter 35 Comment Replies

csgt: “Oh, I forgot to mention it in the past chapter, but I definitely got the feeling that Ben having a new normal watch and Gwen replacing the charm with a normal locket means the definitive end of the ‘hero’ part of their story”

Yeah, pretty much. They’re moving on to new stages in their lives as they grow up.

csgt: “So Lucy is now developing real feelings for both Ben and Gwen? Ohhh, that complicates things… Maybe she will find someone else and get over them? Even though now I’m seeing the chances of ‘Bwenucy’ happening raise a little (maybe 5 percent now instead of 1 percent?)”

Things are a little more complicated now. People have been noticing for a while that there is a chance of the story going in the Bwency direction, so this probably made it seem more likely to everyone. You’ll just have to see how it plays out over the rest of the year.

Davidscrazy234: “If this was made into a live action show, like Arrow and The Flash which cast person would u choose for Ben, Gwen, and Lucy?”

Ooh, there’s a fun question! Let’s see…

For Ben, I’d go with David Mazouz, AKA young Bruce Wayne in Gotham. The scenes where he’s partying and pretending to be a spoiled rich kid makes me think he could totally pull off Ben, plus beating the crap out of bad guys is right up his alley.

For Gwen, I’d say Sadie Sink, AKA Max from the second season of Stranger Things. I’ll admit it’s mostly because she’s a fierce redhead, but she seems talented enough to pull off a character who’s pretty much the exact opposite of Max as well.

And then for Lucy, I’d pick Elsie Fisher, AKA the voice of Agnes in the Despicable Me movies. She did a live action film with Bo Burnham recently too. She’s such a sweet girl and just seems like a constant ray of sunshine, I think she’d be perfect for Lucy.

These actors are 15-17 years old now, so I guess it could only work as a sequel to my story at this point, but they would’ve been perfect for it if the series had started like 4 or 5 years ago.

Guest: “I have a question- is Gwen shorter than Ben in this story? Otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to lean into his chest without having her butt stick out awkwardly.”

Haha, yes, Ben is the taller one now. Gwen used to be taller than him, but he hit his growth spurt and surpassed her, which I sort of eluded to a couple times in Year 3. I remember Ben Ten Thousand being really tall, so I figured this was how they would turn out. The drawing I did of them for the story image is a little closer to what I imagine their current relative heights are now.

Guest: “I’m like the track you’re heading with. Lucy was only featured in one episode in the original and she had so much potential, I always kept an eye out for her. Her characteristics stood out. The wedding when Ben danced with Gwen and then Lucy were really sweet moments. Came for a Bwen fanfic but I’m also in love with Lucy.”

You and me both, my friend. Lucy wasn’t even in the character list for Ben 10 fanfictions until I started this story. If nothing else comes from it, I hope people start to like her a bit more.

Jagcity: “Just a little side inquiry, it seems that Frank loves his daughter (or at least checks up on her) more than Natalie does; I guess Gwen’s mom is simply the stern and frowny type.”

Gwen’s dad is a softie, sort of a typical doting father. Her mom is much more strict, but she’s definitely the one who pushes her to succeed more, which Gwen is mature enough to be thankful for. Ben still finds Natalie mean and scary, and it confuses him that Gwen doesn’t seem to see her that way at all.

Guest: “that bathroom scene was the first time we’ve seen Lucy expressing her true intentions and emotions behind her cherrful happy go lucky mask and she seems to be conflicted… she cares for others which is why she wants Ben and Gwen to be there for each other but at the same, even though I can’t say she’s human, she’s got emotions. She’s just better at hiding it like Ben.”

We have seen her “mask” slip before, which I think is a good way to put it. Back in the summer of Year 2, she broke down because Joel and Camille were missing. That was an unrelated matter, but I hope it effectively foreshadowed how Lucy might not always be the cheerful, happy go lucky girl she appears to be.

Guest: “This was a really effective chapter and it only was that way because of the events and progression leading up to it.”

THANK YOU! Yes! Now you all know why I had to write a story the length of a Harry Potter book before reaching this point. I hope the payoff was worth the wait.

Guest: “I don’t know how to root for right now, it’s like Toradora all over again.”

I’m really glad you brought up Toradora, which is hands down one of the best romance anime out there. It wasn’t one of the biggest inspirations for my story (which would probably be Oreimo in addition to Little Moments), but I can definitely see the similarities.

Guest: “Since you mentioned you’re in college, what’re your aspirations and plans for the future? You’d do great as a author, writer for animes, characters and novels judging by what I’ve seen from you. You seem to have an interest in gaming so you could have a certain paths on that or just take it as a way to kill time. Whatever you’re gonna be in the future you sure as hell are gonna be successful”

Thank you for saying so! I actually graduated about a year ago, but I started writing this story while I was still in college. I’m currently working as an engineer at a medical device company. I have no real training or experience as an author, so I’ll probably just stick with fanfiction as a hobby for now. I’m also learning to draw in the anime art style, so maybe I’ll try making a fan manga at some point as well. In the past, I’ve competed in really low level Super Smash Bros and Magic the Gathering tournaments, but I couldn’t see myself making a career out of it. In about a year or two, I plan to decide if I wanna stick with what I’m doing or go back to school for a bit to transition into something else. I have a friend who got into the game design industry after he graduated, which is something I would love to do as well. Becoming a teacher is another option since I like working with kids and I used to tutor other students in math, science, and programming, plus my aunt is a middle school math teacher. I also have a friend who got into writing for television after he graduated. I was mostly joking, but I already made him promise that if he ever somehow makes it big and gets his own cartoon, he’ll let me voice the villain since I’m “basically already the villain in his life.” I know a lot of my readers are in college, so I just wanna say to all of you that life can be pretty cool after you graduate, and I hope you all do as well as my friends and I have.

Guest: “Do you think Joel is dead in the Last of Us Part 2”

I don’t think so. Wasn’t he in the trailer? Either way, I know I’m gonna play the shit out of that game the second it comes out.

Guest: “God. Been reading from December and this story’s at the TOP of the Ben 10 fanfic section, well deserved. Gosh bless”

Is it really? Awesome! Also, I thought it was funny how you start the comment with “God” and then switch to “Gosh bless” at the end. Lucy prefers “Glob” because she’s a fan of Adventure Time.

Guest: “‘Shut up and put your hands around me’ Gwen is such a tsundere lmao”

Haha, absolutely! I love tsunderes. Totally my type.

Guest: “Since you haven’t seen Alien Force... did you by any chance check out Omniverse since some flashbacks involve the friendship Gwen, Lucy and Ben.”

I only watched a few episodes of Omniverse. I even specifically sought out the episodes that had Lucy in them because I wanted more of her. The show didn’t really appeal to me, but I enjoyed the episodes I saw and the Lucy ones were helpful for crafting her character in my story.

Guest: “We all know Ben and Gwen are gonna end up together and you also mentioned you might write epilogue one shots would it be possible to also write a optionn B) alternative ending where Ben and Lucy got together or would that not fit with the course of the story you’re taking in? Just like how they did Amigami SS, in each 5 episodes, they pair the MC with a girl in alternative ways and timelines of course to see how it would’ve played out. I feel bad for Lucy to be left out and as much as I love Bwen as she does, wish she had her chance too.”

The Bwen ending and the Bwency ending are the only ones that are really on the table right now. I will say that the ending is one of those two options, but I am willing to write an alternate ending for the other one. It’s hard to imagine a Ben/Lucy ending that wouldn’t be completely soul-crushing for Gwen, but I might consider giving it a shot.

Guest: “‘Beeeeeeeen! You...you...You're doing it wrong!’ ‘Give it a rest Dweeb, I'm doing the best I can.’ ‘Ahhhhhhh...Ouch! Wrong hole, Doofus! Do you even know what you're doing down there!?’ ‘Maybe I should've just asked Lucy for help...’”

Hey! How did you get my manuscript for Year 5?? I mean, uh...get this filth out of my Christian Minecraft server.

Guest: “Just wondering, but is this a purely Bwen fic? It seems kinda sad that I read 200K words thinking that Lucy doesn't really stand a chance. I was wondering how much of a jump it would take for all three of them to get together but it doesn't really matter anyways since you already finished writing this work. I just found this piece about 3 days ago and I gotta say I'm enjoying it quite a bit. I look forward to reading what kind of ending you have in store for these characters.”

It’s not purely a Bwen fic. It was my intention for everyone to know Ben and Gwen were going to end up together from the start, but for it to be unclear at this point if Lucy will be involved with them as well. Some of my readers are more convinced it will happen than others, but like I said earlier, I am willing to write both endings. Only one of them is written right now though.