#He refuses to let Tim suffer for Damian to adjust

[dcxdpdabbles]

Oh my god, you laid out freelance inventor perfectly for the justice league to mistake Danny for Batman, especially with John Jones already making his thoughts known that Bruce wayne would be the perfect himbo for Batman lol. Does the entire league pull together to make a beach day seem intentional and end up making so many mistaken assumptions along the way? Either way, I adore what you have going. I'm kinda curious if you had any thoughts on Damians' first reaction to meeting Danny? If not, that's okay. I just love the thought of Danny bonding with Damian in a feral way or through sparing like ghosts tend to in this fandom

The first time Danny meets Damian Wayne is when he comes to the Manor for a surprise visit. He usually would have called ahead or messaged Alfred, but it was a last-minute decision to stop by Gotham on his way to Metropolis.

Initially, Danny was going to a technology expo hosted by Lexcorp, but it was delayed due to a giant fight. A robot had flung Superman through the convention hall, causing severe damage.

Since he now had a weekend free while Lexcorp searched for a new venue, he figured he would spend it with his favorite one percent. Imagine his surprise when he noticed the first thing he noticed was that Bruce had a biological son, one he had told to stay hidden.

He had told his displaced son not to venture out of the manner because he didn't want the public to know about him. Danny hadn't felt this angry in a long, long time.

The glare he sent Bruce had the man flinching, causing Damian, fresh to the Manor and not used to seeing his Father as anything but commanding, to raise an impressed eyebrow. "Kids. Bed. Now. I want to talk to your Father."

"No." Bruce cowered. "Please stay, kids."

"Sorry Bruce, I actually have to touch up some photos for this month's photo op," Tim was quick to say, jumping from his seat.

"I also really need to get started on some paperwork for the gymnastic gym." Dick laughed nervously, dropping out of the handstand he was in. Danny never understood how the young man could randomly spring into flips and handstands.

Damian did not inch from his chair, though. He meets Danny's gaze with a cool upturn of his nose and crossed arms.

"You have no control over me or my actions, Harlot," Damian hissed, but a pale Dick and Tim pushed him out. Jason had been out on some far-off island trip with his friends- Roy, Kori, Artemis, and that delightful Bizzarro who spoke like it was an opposite day every day.

He was the only person to whom he would not talk to Damian. Everyone else would look Danny in the eye and justify why they would assume that a child should be treated as a secret was the correct thing to do.

"Well?" Danny asks when all Bruce does is sit there, hands on his lap and sweating. He narrows his eyes, crosses his arms, and watches the sweat drip down Bruce's head. "Explain yourself."

"Danny, I swear I wasn't aware of Damian. His mother told me she had a miscarriage. If I had known, I would have told you-" Bruce started but was cut off by Danny marching across the room and practically snaring into his face.

"That's not why you're in trouble, Bruce. Why are you treating a nine-year-old boy like a dirty secret?!"

"um..well, that's...you need to understand he's a bit unstable-"

"Choose your next words very carefully, Bruce." Danny cuts him off, recrossing his arms. Bruce swallows before he seems to gather unknown courage and straightens out his back.

"Danny, I don't think Damian needs to be a secret forever, but he needs to adjust before he can go out. He had a hard life with his birth mother and tends to lash out in violent outbursts. Just last week, he pushed Tim off the stairway!"

That's alarming. In fact, it isn't very good to think Tim would not be safe in the same household as Damian. They talk more about it, especially the part where Damian makes clear he wishes to replace Tim and would do nothing to remove him.

Damian is a threat to Tim's well-being. He mentions this to Bruce, who waves it way like a damn fool.

"Tim can handle it."

"Just because he can doesn't mean he should," Danny growls, throwing his arms into the air. "I can't talk to you right now. I can't even look at you."

"Danny, please-"

"Nope. I will tell Tim to stay with me, and I will make plans to take Damian out and about. If you treat someone like a criminal, they will act like one. I'm going to help that young boy settle here, but I will not do it at the expense of another. Don't call or message me." Danny growls, strutting out of the room only to practically run into Damian.

The boy raises his chin as if daring Danny to tell him off for eavesdropping. For one second, Danny is reminded of Jazz, back when she had been so insistent that she was an adult.

His eyes soften, and he knows Damian can see based on his surprise blink. "H kid have you had the chance to go into Gotham yet?"

"Why would I waste my time with the peasants? I am an elite warrior, destined to rule over them."

Huh. He reminds Danny a lot of Jazz now, with her anti-social tendencies- not that she refused to be around people, more like she refused to make friendships with people her age because she thought herself too mature for them- and a little of the battle-hungry ghosts in the Zone.

He can handle that.

"You are to be a general, right? Why are you acting like a common foot soldier?" He asks, watching the boy's entire demeanor freeze over. "A good ruler is not just combat strength. They can take command and can easily step among their fighters. How can you do that if you do not understand the common folk's way of thinking?"

Damian opened and closed his mouth before narrowing his eyes. "You mock me."

Danny shakes his head, falling to his knees so Damian won't need to strain his neck. He keeps the baby talk out of his voice but only barely. He gets the sense that like his sister, Damian would prefer to be treated like a mini adult. "Never. I'm genuinely interested in your thoughts, but you must know that all knowledge is power. Know thy enemy..."

"...as one knows thyself," Damian finishes his quote, looking vaguely intruded. He considers the offer before nodding. "I shall accompany you on your outing and gain valued observations of the average American child."

"Only after you apologize for attacking Tim and tell him to his face how you will not be doing that again," Danny warns, raising a finger at Damian's clouded face. "A good leader does not want insubordination. Attacking Tim did not prove anything but how unreliable you are and how much you fear Tim."

"I do not fear Drake!"

"Then why does his presence so threaten you? Bruce told me how out of all his kids, you seemed so sure you could take him in a fight but not a battle of wits."

Damian's eyes grow cold before he lashes out a hand. Danny catches it quickly, much to the boy's shock. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Not bad, but not what a regular American child would behave. You would have been singled out as a spy the second you stepped in the street."

"....I shall work on my reaction and emotional regulation." Damian yanks his arm free, striding away but not before glancing back at Danny. "You are strange."

Danny smiles. "Thanks, kiddo."

The boy vanishes from sight, and Danny sighs. He must now find Tim and help him pack to stay with him. He also needs to yell at everyone in the Manor, including Alfred. Honestly, that man enables Bruce far too much.

[analviel]

Changing Tim's motives into needing to be useful, doing it for the sake of extreme obsession, delusion of grandeur, or needing Batman just as much as Batman needed someone to stop him (which is self-deluding because child soldiers or at least labourer is literally never the answer ever) takes away from the character and the simple desire and act of helping. Which not only contributes to people's twisted and hateful views of Tim but also denies the possibility that someone who has the necessities to help can offer help just for the sake of helping. It's also a bit unfair because you refuse to make use of the materials already there and you won't let Tim keep his backstory because 'it's not interesting enough compared to the other Robins'. You can literally add a spice of anything else, but opting for physical abuse which is so prevalent in the fandom you see it regularly prevents those who find these things triggering from enjoying content.

Trying to figure the words to better explain: if you want to explore child abuse there is Cass and Jason, probably Steph since her father literally tied her up, and if you want any other tragic backstory, there is also Damian. Tim experienced neglect, yes. But you don't need to make Jim a horrible father to make Babs interesting. 'Suffering isn't a contest' I'd read once. Like, obviously, I'm not -can't- stop you from writing it, and of course projecting on your favourite character isn't a crime and practically expected but... there are more tasteful ways of going about it than others.

It's also the worst when you have Cassandra the one who's abuse is being belittled to emphasise Tim's suffering.

Like the point of this gaggle of rag-tag clan is because they come from such varying backgrounds and still shows that it's possible to come from different perspectives, no matter how dark or how light, and still have the common theme of wanting to help. I mean, that's the point of superheroes.

Literally it's so insensitive. And as an initial idea just to elaborate even more, Tim story's focus has never been his pre-Robin. If you want angst, you can just take his training to start with. Tim likely never experienced pain worse than being hit by a ball in dodgeball or something and never in his life has it ever been suggested that he'd ever have to endure this much pain so the adjustment had been massive and he'd felt insufficient. The change in his life hadn't been a slow spiral but an overnight overhaul from a comfortable peaceful life to a thrilling life risking one. And if you want to add a complex, you can make it that he regularly refuse to deal with his trauma with the mindset that 'at least i didn't die like Jason or my dad didn't hurt me like Cass or I wasn't raised like Damian'. He could be belittling his own pain because he sees it as him having suffered less than his siblings and feels that he doesn't have any right to whine. I literally can think of a dozen of angst idea without throwing physical abuse on the readers. I'm not gonna apologize but knowing several individuals that would be negatively affected by the way these are delivered can't help but grate at my nerves.

[inertia-is-a-statue-of-a-man]

Hey what’s your opinion on the Wayne kids? Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, and Cassandra Cain

Okay so.... this is gonna be long I have... thoughts. 

I love Dick Grayson in theory. He seems very nice and he clearly means well, and as a fellow disaster bi, I get it. (He’s also beautiful). But he’s a cop. I was fully prepared to love him- things were going so well in my perception of him, and then he became a cop - joining a force that is notoriously corrupt in a misguided attempt to what? Save the system by joining the system? When has that ever worked? He of all people should not have been a cop. HE WENT TO JUVIE. Why did he go- “hah yeah that was terrible- gonna go join the system that put me there”? I hate it. -10/10 career move. Would love to give him a piece of my mind. Like I’m a lot of things, and likely to get arrested for direct action is one of them, I think America would be a better place if people stopped being cops- just in general. What have they really accomplished except enforcing racial and class distinctions in an effort to prevent the common man from rising up against our oppressors? I don’t care how fat that ass is, I refuse to find a cop hot on moral grounds (also not an ass girl so it’s fairly easy to ignore). This being said, I feel so much pity for him. Not only for what he went through with his parents, but also the culture shock of adjusting to Gotham high society after coming from the circus- having experienced Gotham’s social services and juvie? Being a known Romani person in white culture, especially RICH WHITE CULTURE? I also wish death and suffering to anyone who started sexualizing him as soon as he hit puberty- any woman can tell you how that shit hurts, and being in the public eye only makes it worse- I will legitimately fight anyone, but especially the adult women I saw sexualizing him when he was 16, catch these fucking hands, death to pedophiles. I can’t even imagine what he’s been through and I sincerely hope that he has someone he can confide in at the very least a friend but hopefully a professional. 

Jason Todd- I don’t know that much about him. He wasn’t super in the public eye like Grayson was/is and he died young which is... unfortunate. I feel like Wayne didn’t get enough flack for Todd dying - like I’ve mentioned this before, Bruce Wayne, beacon of Gotham adoption had one of his kids die, and like nobody talks about it? What the actual fuck? But I mean, he was from the Bowery and seemed like a spunky kid so like I’m on board with Jason Todd. He didn’t live long enough to become a cop, but he’s from the Bowery so who are we kidding, he wouldn’t have done that anyway.

Tim Drake is complicated. On one hand he’s a literal child who dropped out of high school to take over a multi-billion dollar corporation for his adopted father- and that is SO fucked up on so many levels. Let him be a kid? Look me in the eyes and tell me he wouldn’t be happier with kids his own age at a skatepark instead of sitting in an office all day dealing with investors. I also understand that his childhood was neglectful, and boy howdy do I know what that feels like, I’ve called my parents by their first names since I was 8 for a reason. I don’t feel comfortable passing a lot of judgement on a teenager, and especially not one in his position. I didn’t know who I was at his age, and I still don’t really know who I am- he’s in a crucial state of development and in position where the opinions of strangers mean everything. He’s under so much stress, I hope he’s okay and that he’s mentally and physically healthy.  

Damian Wayne is an even smaller literal child. He’s a goddamn BABY. I’m not going to give moral judgement on such a wee bab. That is absolutely not happening. I am gonna say that I hope he’s getting the love and attention he needs to flourish, that he’s happy and healthy, and that he’s given the freedom to form genuine human connections rather than being forced to network for his father/brother’s company. He deserves to be a child, and I hate that A. because of his race, and B. because of who his father is that that’s not likely to happen in American society. I wish Damian well. 

Uhm... Cassandra is really pretty and has some nice arm and shoulder muscles. I’m a raging bisexual so this shouldn’t surprise any of you. But uhm, she seems cool. She likes to dance and seems good at it. It’s nice to see her being given the freedom to pursue her passions. She’s fairly quiet. She has nice arms. I genuinely don’t know a lot about her, she’s managed to be in the press less often than her brothers. She’s also newer to the family, so there’s been less time for me to form an opinion. 

[lananiscorner]

who would you say is more of a disaster family? the horsemen of the apocalypse or the bat family? also which members of each family would get along with the other the best you think?

Thanks for your ask,conrad6136, and I’m sorry it took me so long to get to it.

Who is the biggerdisaster fam—the Horsemen or the Bats? You know, I was going to say “hands downthe horsemen, of course—they are even ready to maim and murder each other”,buthonestly, the more I thought about it, the more I came to doubt that. In theend, I realized they are really on two opposite sides of a spectrum:

The Horsemen are morefam than disaster and the Bats are more disaster than fam.

Because let’s face it,there are two parts to a disaster family—the disaster, aka the individualmembers being deeply flawed people who interact with each other in frequentlyunhealthy ways, and the family, aka the unshakeable bonds that still hold themtogether and sit at the core of their relationships, no matter what. From hereon out, there be spoilers for all the Darksiders media (games, novel, comics,you name it) and Batfam comics of any continuity.

Let’s start with thedisasters. Almost everyone in camp Bats has issues up the wazoo:

Bruce is, at best, adeeply traumatized, obsessive perfectionist with a heart of gold and a flairfor the dramatic, and while being Batman has allowed him to help many people,it’s often been to the detriment of his own health (physically and mentally)and that of his loved ones (ranging from being emotionally distant and lackingto outright beating the crap out of his kids).

Dick, depending on whichcanon you’re looking at (Pre-Crisis, Post-Crisis, New52, Rebirth) might seemlike the most well-adjusted one, but he is capable of being anywhere fromtone-deaf to downright cruel to the people closest to him.

Jason started out as atraumatized kid without sufficient therapy, was killed, resurrected, went downsome really dark paths, and was overwhelmingly met with next to no compassionby his family upon his return. Whenever the writers are not choosing to ignorebasically all his history with them, his relationship with the family is shakyat best and murderous at worst.

Tim, depending on canon,is either grossly sexist and entitled, constantly over-worked andsleep-deprived, or both.

Cassandra was raised tobe a living weapon and it left her with a severe disability, suicidalideations, and a deep identity crisis. On the bright side, she never wanted to murderany of them.

Damian was raised to be aliving weapon and it left him with severe socialization problems, an incrediblesense of entitlement, and an identity crisis. Also, he was ready to murderalmost everyone in that family in the beginning.

Stephanie (nottechnically adopted or anything, but fuck it, I’m counting her) had a villainfor a dad and Tim for a boyfriend, and has mostly been disregarded and/ordismissed by everyone in the family. Honestly surprised she does not want tomurder them.

Barbara and Duke… arehonestly two people who seem incredibly balanced and well-adjusted in spite ofthe awful shit they went through, so kudos.

As for the horsemen:

Death is suffering fromsevere PTSD over having had to slaughter almost all his brothers and sisters atEden in the name of the balance, even if his PTSD does not present in thetypical way people associate with PTSD. He had also done a whole lot of fuckedup shit even before Eden, including crafting a bunch of WMDs out of the livingbodies of an entire sapient species. Once chopped off War’s arm when Warrefused to be reasoned with and in another instance implemented a plan that heknew was going to get War killed without telling anyone. And then promptlyswept it under the rug. Generally does not like to hold himself accountable toanyone but himself and can be a truly arrogant bastard.

Fury is a ball of ragewho hates everything and everyone, has a fuse shorter than the wick of abirthday cake candle, laughs at seeing her brother War chained and imprisonedand talks trash about Death and Strife, too. Turns out to loathe herself justas much as everyone else and only admits so after she really, really gets putthrough the emotional wringer.

Strife is a living murdermachine, who freely admits that he loves fighting and killing, but is alsoreally upset about having had to kill almost his entire family at Eden. Questionseverything and everyone and will 100% pick a fight with you if given thechance. Once threatened to kill War (that being the alternative to Deathchopping off War’s arm). Has also done some truly fucked up shit that he hastrouble talking about even to his brothers, though in contrast to Death, atleast he’s trying.

War… is actually themost balanced one of the four, but god help you if you push his berserkbuttons, because he will chop you up within the blink of an eye. What can Isay? All four of them need anger management therapy.

So that’s the disasterside. But on the other hand, we have family and this is where the horsemen aresimply much more consistent, imo.

We are talking thingshere like Strife promising War to always have his back, even if the Councilwere to order him to kill War like he killed his brothers and sisters at Eden.

We are talking Warpromising to do the same.

We are talking Strifeopening up to War about some of the atrocities he committed, even just alittle, and War respecting his boundaries where he draws them.

We are talking Deathbeing willing to sacrifice the souls of all his slain siblings and himself,just to save War, whom he does not even know to be innocent (all the signspoint to him being guilty, but Death’s faith in his brother is so strong herefuses to believe it right down to his last second).

We are talking Furyaccepting the lessons of humility she gets from Strife with a smile in the end.

We are talking Fury usingher last moments on Earth to try and secure help for War, whom she hadinitially believed guilty of bringing about the apocalypse.

We are talking War askingabout where his siblings are the moment he arrives on Earth.

We are talking Warultimately reacting to Fury’s scorn by warning her of the conspiracy against them, trying to keep her safe.

We are talking War havingsuch unshakeable faith in his last three siblings that he knows, without ashadow of a doubt, that they will ride with him against Heaven and Hell and theCharred Council and onto Oblivion.

We are talking thehorsemen, despite all their flaws and the many ways in which they clash withone another and even hurt one another (physically and emotionally), bandingtogether and supporting each other when the chips are down, because at the endof the day, they are family and they trust each other with their lives.

Where, pray tell, do youfind that in the Batfam? Where was that unshakeable faith, that bandingtogether and supporting each other, when Bruce was framed for murder? WhenJason returned to Gotham as a villain, twisted by the Lazarus Pit and trauma ofhis death and return? When Cass was brainwashed by Deathstroke? When Stephanieaccidentally started an unsolvable gang war because she was missing crucialinformation that had been deliberately kept from her? When Bruce beat the crapout of his kids in Rebirth? When he took Jason back to the place of his deathin a deliberate attempt to retraumatize him in the New 52?

I know the batfamcharacters have had their fair share of heartwarming family moments, especiallybetween certain characters (e. g. Dick and Tim, Dick and Damian, Tim and Cass,Barb and Cass, Dick and Barb), but at the end of the day there have been soooomany instances where they could have really needed each others’ compassion andsupport and there was just… no-one… there. At all.

That’s why, in the end, Ithink the Horsemen are more fam than disaster and the Bats are more disasterthan fam.

P.S.: Almost forgot thesecond part of your question, so here goes:

Death: gets along bestwith Bruce—the emotional repression, the untreated PTSD, the jerkish habit ofGoing It Alone At All Costs™…

Fury: gets along withabsolutely no-one, because she thinks they are all ridiculous, would get alonggreat with Damian if they could both get over their egos and has respect forCass

Strife: gets along bestwith Jason, hands-down, appreciates the flair for the dramatic and pragmaticand the sense of humor, can relate to being somewhat of the black sheep in thefamily, also: guns

War: gets along best withBarb because he is genuinely impressed by the fact that she can still kick assin spite of being in a wheel chair and has managed to weaponize her intellect tothe benefit of everyone

[schweeeppess]

"What the fuck'd you do to your hair?"

Tim stiffened at the question, but elected to pretend he hadn't heard it, gathering the things he came for quicker.

"Hey, I'm talking to you."

No you're not.

Snatching the grapple off the wall, Tim tucked it into his belt and hauled the bag of items up over his shoulder as he started walking out of the Batcave.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Tim tensed, jaw tightening, as he took a slow inhale through his nose.

"Jason."

His brother raised a brow, withdrawing his hand and crossing his arms. "So he speaks."

"What do you want." Tim ignored the flatness of his tone, adjusting his grip on the bag, refusing to look at Jason.

"I asked you a ques- will you fucking stop that and look me in the face like I'm a human being?"

Tim bit the inside of his cheek a little but lifted his eyes to meet Jason's.

Jason narrowed his own as he spoke again. "I said, what the fuck did you do to your hair, Tim."

"It's none of your business," Tim muttered, anxiety flaring up. "Just leave me alone, Jason. Dick does. Damian does. Why can't you?"

He moved to go around Jason, but his brother stopped him again, moving to block his path and putting a hand on Tim's chest.

Already narrowed eyes thinned further, hiding the toxic green vibrance.

"Okay, no. What the fuck is your problem?"

Tim scowled, hissing, "Right now? You're my problem," as he slapped Jason's arm off his chest and shoved his way past him. Their shoulders accidentally bumped together as he did, and Tim cursed mentally.

"Fuck no."

Jason slammed Tim back against the wall with a hand on his shoulder, once-squinting eyes now opened wider in anger. He pulled himself to his full height and took a step closer into Tim's personal space.

Gritting his teeth, Tim stomped down the roaring rage in his mind along with the abrupt spike in anxiety at Jason's looming, and he forced himself to fucking relax.

"What the fuck. Is. Your. Problem," Jason growled. "Spill it. Now."

Swallowing his fury, Tim spoke. "You've been gone four months, Jason. Shit happens in four months."

Tim could practically feel the anger rolling off his brother in waves, and it did nothing to help calm his own anger and anxiety.

"What does that mean," Jason asked tightly.

"It means," Tim started in a low growl, "that you missed a lot, and you're no more privy to what happened to me than any of the others, so back the fuck up and get your hand off my chest."

"To what happened to you?"

Raised by the goddamn Batman indeed.

Scowling, Tim said, "I'm not repeating myself, Jason. Get. Off."

Jason scoffed at him but let Tim go, backing up a step or two. "Like your scrawny-ass could take me down."

"You'd be surprised," Tim bitterly snapped. "I'm leaving, now, Jason. Don't get in the fucking way again, because I will get you out of it."

...

Two days later, Tim was glaring at Jason from where he sat strapped and Bat-cuffed to a chair.

"What the fuck is you problem?" he hissed.

"Oh, hey, getting some mad déjà-vu," Jason snarked. A second later he rolled his eyes as plopped down into a chair across from his little brother, who was clearly pissed. "You know what I'm going to ask, Tim-bitch, so just answer the question already."

Mocking stupidity Tim said, "Golly gee, I don't know what you're talking about Mister."

Jason scowled. "Cut the fucking act, Tim. Spill it already. What the fuck happened to you, and why are you so easy to piss off."

"You want to fucking know what happened?!" Tim finally yelled. "You want to know why my hair is white?! Why my eyes aren't as blue ad they used to be?! Huh?" He leaned forward in his chair, teeth baring into a sneer. "News flash Jason: You're not the only one who took a green bath anymore."

Eyes widening, Tim snapped his mouth shut with an audible sound.

Jason's own eyes were wide as he stared at his little brother, Tim refusing to meet his gaze anymore, and Jason leaned forward as Tim moved back.

Shaking his head and narrowing his eyes Jason spoke lowly. "Let's start again. When did you die, why did Ra's bring you back, and why in the fuck am I just hearing about this?"

Tim looked like he bit a lemon as be responded.

"I died a week after you took your little multiverse trip with Kyle and Donna again," he muttered, staring a hole into the wall to his left. "We were fighting the League."

Lower he whispered, "I had to, because we needed to save Tam."

Jason spoke, interrupting Tim. "Stupidest shit I've ever heard," he scoffed. "You did the whole self-sacrificing shit again."

"Again?"

"Yes," Jason hissed back. "Again. You've pulled that shit so often before."

Tim elected to ignore Jason and continued with his story-telling, but Jason interrupted him again and he hadn't even opened his mouth yet.

"When you said we," he stared slowly, "who did you mean."

Tim's lips thinned and he swallowed thickly. He was a little surprised he hadn't burned a hole in the wall yet, actually.

"Pru. Myself. Red Star."

"You're fucking kidding me."

"I am not."

"I don't even know who the fuck Pru is, Tim!" Jason yelled. "Why in God's name did you go to save Tam with people I've never heard of!?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Tim snapped, head whipping to face Jason as his rage spiked. "You have no right to say jack shit, Mr. I'm-Going-To-Save-My-Mom-Alone! At least I took people with me," he seethed. "Pru worked with the League- works, I don't give a shit if it's past or present tense -she knows them. Red Star provided muscle I needed. I made a choice, Jason, but I thought it through."

By the time his rant was over, Tim paled.

Jason was silent as he held Tim's gaze. His muscles were taut, lips a thin line, hands balled into tight fists, and the tendons in his neck especially stood out.

Tim's tongue flicked out to wet his lips before he spoke.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, looking away. "I shouldn't have brought her up like that."

Jason lifted a hand to rub at the bridge of his nose as he shut his eyes, and he took a deep breath.

Minutes passed before he spoke, voice quiet. "Apology accepted, you piece of shit."

Tim nodded once and continued.

"I told them the primary objective was Tam, and that she was all that mattered. Getting her out and safe was it."

His breath quickened as he started remembering the events leading to his death, but Tim strong-armed through his discomfort and kept talking, gaze shifting to the floor next to Jason's boot.

"We were feet away from the jet, but Ra's assassins were catching up. If I hadn't stopped and bought time... We all would have died." His eyes flicked back to meet Jason's as he said, "I died for them to live. It was either me, or all of us. What did you want me to do?"

Jason's jaw tightened. It took ten seconds for him to say something.

"Is this what it's going to take?" he asked blandly.

Tim blinked. "What?"

"Is this what it's gonna take? Me locking you into a chair and getting you pissed enough to fucking talk to me?" Jason's hard gaze was in direct contrast to the quiet tone.

Sighing, Tim looked away again. He didn't want to keep looking into those eyes. The ones that conveyed concern, anger, and hurt, all for Tim and probably because of him too. The eyes that told him he was still very much a part of the family he denied himself- the ones that promised pain for what Tim had suffered- the ones that were filled with brotherly affection and protectiveness.

"No," he finally forced out, jaw flexing after the word.

Jason sighed but nodded. "Look, Tim- I get it. Probably better than anyone else in our fucked family. The Pit makes you say things- it makes you do things- that you normally wouldn't. You'll get real pissed, real fast. I get it. But you're fucking strong, Tim. Punch that shit in the face so hard it K.O.s for a day or two at least. You out of us all can."

Tim snorted softly, hanging his head, trying to blink away traitorous tears gathering in his eyes. "I'm not that strong," he muttered.

Jason shook his head, scooting the chair he was sitting in forward more. "Yes, you are. I don't want to hear you say negative shit about yourself. You're one of the strongest of us damned princes of Gotham."

"I'm not," Tim repeated.

"You are."

Tim was getting tired of it, so he sighed heavily and shrugged. "Whatever, Jason, just don't be disappointed when you see you're wrong."

Jason snorted softly and reached out to ruffle Tim's snow white hair. Flecks of black were scattered throughout his head, reminding Jason a little of a rabbit or an owl.

"You're just gonna prove me right, Tim. You'll see."

Again, Tim just shrugged.

"Can I get up now?"

His brother cracked a smirk and took back his hand. "One more question."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Another one?"

"Why does it seem like nobody else in our family knows about this?"

Tim stiffened. "Because I got myself out, and I didn't tell them. They think I dyed my hair." He narrowed his eyes. "And you're not going to tell them what happened, Jason. I'm waiting for the Pit to go down a bit before I do, because you know how Dick and Bruce get. Promise me."

Jason just nodded. "Alright. I promise."

"Can I get up now?"

"In a sec."

"Jason."

"Tim."

thank @lurkinglurkerwholurks for their headcanon on the white hair thing after the pit. and thank a tim mood + imoulsive writing fir this fic.

[tzigone]

De-aging fic for the Batfam

I’ve started thinking of this more lately.  I didn’t read it at first just out of lack of interest, then I read a couple later. I saw some good ones - ones that dealt with the lost sense of identity of child (in this case Dick, who knew he wasn’t who/what he was supposed to be) and his own sense of loss regarding his grown self, or with the family having difficulty adjusting to the new dynamic with the recently de-aged. 

Then I saw lot of fluffy, humorish, no-real-meaning ones. A chance to see Bruce with a baby Damian.  A sweet little Jason.  Tim who was way too woobie and wounded.  Usually for vulnerability or laughs at Bruce’s inability to handle young kids. Which isn’t really my thing, but folks can have fun.

Then came the ones that really bugged me.  The permanent de-aging ones.  They are horrifying to me. They entirely destroy everything a character has accomplished, all their growth.  All relationships to everyone outside Bruce are either destroyed (particularly applies to romantic relationships) or completely re-written.  I think in service of “Bruce’s second chance” or “Bruce with his babies” everything else is diminished. The actual grown character is completely lost, a lifetime of experience lost, to be rewritten by the new version. I just can’t fathom people who think this is a good idea - there’s a reason this is usually treated as a punishment for villains in professional fiction. Albeit often a humorous one. 

FTR, in the good fic I mentioned, regaining sense of self and an awareness of what was lost when de-aged played a big part.  Really liked that.

I, too, think permanent de-aging ties into a common trope - infantilization of the boys (Cass often gets left out family fic even preboot, and isn’t used in these nearly as much in these fic types).  A desire to keep them all under daddy’s roof instead of being the growing up, being their own men, and yes, moving away. I’ve seen Dick move back to Bruce’s home or just be put there as an adult so many times - it’s a step backwards, IMO.  Or one where he comes back home crying and says he can’t handle being a solo hero, it’s just too hard, and Bruce welcomes him with open arms and says he can stay here forever - I certainly felt that the author meant for me to perceive it as a sweet scene, but all I saw was tearing Dick down. Jason suffers this, too, though not the same way. Not typically as Red Hood, but as a 15 year old Jason when resurrected. He will frequently call Bruce “dad” a lot, want to cuddle, and act more like 8 than 15 (and I’m not talking about when still in shock or trauma, either), sometimes referencing reading material that’s targeted at the 8-12 set (IRL, I like YA fic and read it as adult, but it sort of sends a message in this kind of fic).

Bringing the boys in at younger ages (Dick has varied so much over the years, from at least 8-16), having Damian a baby - those I think are pretty good ways to explore the dynamic.  Having them act younger than their years and refusing to let them grow up (either literally or in behavior) is absolutely not.  I wish someone would tell DC that last part, too.  ;P

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Favors of Fiery Wits - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Ra’s al Ghul, Maya Ducard, Kathy Branden Pairings: robinpile, MayaKathy Summary: Despite all warnings and threats, Ra’s cashed the favor they all hoped he wouldn’t. A/N: This was never meant to be a series, but then it was and now it’s over. Damian is roughly 30 here, Tim around 40. Dick and Jason are obviously both older by various amounts. I don’t mention it but the older two are probably starting to gray a little bit. They don’t bang at the end, but just cuddle until like noon and then get delivery for every single meal after that. Let’s pretend it was a Saturday or something and they’re all lazy losers. Kid’s name is bad but I’m bad at character naming haha. I made a joke about Dick’s butt and I’m so sorry. Thanks for reading this garbage of a series! :)

All For One, One For All

~~

It was Jason who heard the phone buzzing on the nightstand. One of four, and he waited a minute to listen to the pattern, before lazily calling:

“Damian.”

He blindly slapped around for the phone until he felt his fingers wrap around it, then picked it up and flopped over, holding it in the air over the three lying next to him.

(Tim huffed when Jason’s elbow accidentally hit him in the face.)

A second later the phone was taken, the bed shifted, and Damian quietly mumbled, “This is Damian.”

Jason curled into Tim’s side, trying to drift back off even as he heard the mumbled voice on the line. But without warning, the bed jolted, and he opened his eyes to see Damian, only a shadow in the midnight darkness, sitting straight up.

The voice on the line mumbled for another few seconds. Then there was silence. But when Damian spoke again, it was soft, but wide awake.

“I’m on my way.”

Jason tried to blink away his sleep as Damian stood up. Dick, whom he’d been wrapped around, moaned at the loss, but curled into Tim’s other side to maintain his warmth, probably assuming Damian would be back in a few moments.

But judging by the fact that his first stop was the dresser, where he pulled out multiple sets of clothing, then disappeared into the closet and came back with a duffle bag, Jason doubted that would be the case.

“Dames?” He whispered. He saw Damian stiffen. “Where’s the fire?”

“It’s nothing, Todd.” Damian returned as gently as he could. “Go back to sleep.”

“Where are you going?”

“…Nowhere of importance.” Damian offered. “Go back to sleep, Jason. I’ll…be back in a few days.”

“That sounded less than confident.”

But before Damian could answer, Dick asked sleepily, “Who was on the phone?”

Damian didn’t even offer an excuse.

“Damian?” Dick tried. Tim shifted between them, trying to push up onto his elbow. “Who was on the phone?”

Jason’s eyes were adjusting to the darkness now, and he could see that Damian had turned away from them, refused to look in their direction. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand: 3:41am.

“Damian?” Dick asked again, almost in a whine. He clearly wanted to go back to sleep. Wanted Damian to return to his side. “Who called you? Was it Bruce? Does he ne-”

“It was Ra’s.”

Tim became rigid under Jason’s hands, and Dick jerked up just as fast as Damian originally had.

“No.” Dick growled. “You’re not going.”

“I have to.” Damian pushed back, resuming his haphazard packing. “You know that.”

“You don’t.” Dick shook his head.

“Oh, so you want him to come collect Drake instead?” Damian spit, already stressed and frustrated. “Just let me go take care of this. I’m not asking you to come with me. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t. Now go back to sleep, all of you. It shouldn’t take me more than a few days. When I return, we can celebrate finally being free of that twat of an old man.”

Dick shook his head again in anger, clearly biting his tongue. He glanced back at Tim and Jason. “…What’d he ask you to do?”

“He didn’t say. Just said he was redeeming his favor and to arrive in his company posthaste.” Damian explained, throwing his clothes in the bag. “So the sooner I get this done, the sooner I’ll be home.”

“Yeah, pass on that shit.” Dick hissed, throwing the covers off himself and standing. He stomped over to Damian and took hold of his elbows. The two stared at each other in the dark, Dick’s face stern, Damian’s guilty, silently conversing. Eventually, Damian sighed and looked away, and Dick gathered him up in his arms.

“Damian’s going to finish packing, and I’m going to go get the jet and gear ready to go.” Dick called over to the bed. “Jason, I’ll trust Tim to you, along with any other previsions we may need.”

Jason nodded as Dick released Damian and quickly left the room. Then, after a second of hesitation, he rolled practically on top of Tim, apologetically kissing his cheek. “…You doing okay?”

“No.” Tim said shortly, leaning into Jason’s face. “I hate this. I hate Ra’s.”

“We all do.” Jason soothed. “But we can’t let him go on his own. And, you’re going to be mad, but I agree with Damian – we can’t not answer the call.”

He felt Tim swallow. “…What do you think he’s going to ask him to do?”

“I don’t know, love.” Jason admitted. “I just…have no idea. So, we’ve just got to…hope for the best and prepare for the absolute worst, I guess.”

Damian suddenly appeared next to the bed, yanking the drawer of the nightstand open and digging through it. Jason carefully rolled off of Tim, allowing him to sit up, and reached out for Damian’s wrist.

“I’m sorry I gave you the phone.” He whispered.

Damian smiled sadly, and leaned down to kiss them both.

~~

It wasn’t like the last time they arrived at the compound. The assassins weren’t poised to strike this time. Instead, they just lined the walls, hands on weapons. Welcoming them, but cautiously.

Also unlike last time, it wasn’t Damian storming through the halls like an angry bull, but Dick. Fists tight to his side, and every step a stomp.

Damian didn’t try to comfort him. Just walked side by side with him, glancing at him every few minutes. He understood the other’s anger, obviously.

Jason and Tim brought up the rear, leisurely holding hands.

As they approached the doors, two League members silently opened them. When they crossed the threshold, Damian gently hooked his fingers into two of Dick’s, and gently tugged him to walk behind him. Dick begrudgingly allowed it.

Ra’s was slowly standing from his throne as the four made their way across the floor. Dick, Jason and Tim stopped about three-fourths of the way, watching as Damian stood at his grandfather’s feet.

“Damian.” Ra’s sneered.

“Old man.” Damian returned just as rudely. He crossed his arms. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ra’s chuckled, but turned back to his chair and picked up a folder that had been tucked along the arm. He flipped it through the air and Damian caught it with ease.

Damian opened silently, skimming the front page. Suddenly, his head shot up. “You’re not serious.”

“Very.” Ra’s nodded gravely, like the task upset him.

“What?” Dick stepped forward, trying to peek over Damian’s shoulder. “What does he want you to…”

“I need him to steal a child.” Ra’s called cheerfully.

“What.” Tim called.

“No.” Dick declared. “He’s not doing that.”

“Ah, ah, Mr. Grayson.” Ra’s raised a finger. “You remember the stipulations of the deal – he cannot refuse.”

“And you remember what I promised.” Dick growled, stepping towards the thrown. “If you cashed this favor, I would-”

“Grayson.” Damian called. “Relax.”

Dick spun around. “We’re not stealing a kid.”

“We are not.” Damian agreed. “I am.” A pause, to glance back at the file in his hands. “And it’s not a child. It’s an infant.”

“Damian-”

“Richard.” Damian shot back. “I made an oath. For Timothy’s life and for my own. I have to do this.” Then softer. “Trust me.”

Dick stared at him. God, he wanted to. Trusted him in every other aspect of his life.

“Please.”

And he didn’t know why, but he thought he saw something in Damian’s eye. A secret? Or a plan, perhaps?

He glanced back to Tim and Jason. Tim was just as frustrated as him. Arms crossed and turned away. Jason had his hands in his pockets, watching the scene quietly.

“…Fine.” Dick sighed. He gave one last furious glance to Ra’s before storming past Damian back towards the doors. “Let’s get going, then.”

“Safe travels, dear grandson.” Ra’s hummed. “To you and your lovers.”

He didn’t need to see Ra’s to know he was smiling.

~~

There was silence on the plane.

Dick and Tim refused to speak. Too angry at Ra’s for the favor he’d chosen for Damian to complete. But then conflicted all the same. Because Ra’s didn’t ask him to kill the child, or even the parents. Just steal the child. Steal the baby. No murder, no bloodshed. Just…theft, if they got down to technicalities.

But. Still.

Jason wordlessly flew the jet. Damian sat as his copilot, reading through the file Ra’s had handed him, over and over.

“…I know the other two are pouting.” Jason mumbled after twenty minutes or so. “But you mind giving me the deets on this job at least?”

“Certainly.” Damian sniffed, sitting up slightly. “A baby boy. Almost a year old. Located in Russia.”

He glanced to the back of the plane. Tim was glaring at a wall as he twirled a spoon in a cup of tea. Dick was sitting in a seat, staring blankly out the window.

“Would you two like to hear the next part? It might make you feel better about what I’m doing.” Damian called.

Tim shook his head. “I’m just…you agreed so quickly, Damian. It’s like you didn’t even think about what you were agreeing to.” Tim looked over at him, and looked anguished. “And I know you love me – I do. And I understand you’re doing this to keep me safe, and by extension yourself. But…I’m not worth ripping a child from his family. I’m not.”

“It pains me to say it, but I agree, Beloved. None of us are worth someone else’s pain and suffering.” Damian said plainly. “That’s why I want you to listen to me. Will you do that?”

Tim looked at Dick, who hadn’t looked away from the window, and sighed, stepping towards the cockpit. “Hit me.”

Damian held up the file, like he was reading a storybook to children. “The lab his bio-chamber is being held in is in Chernobyl, along the Ukraine-Russia border.”

“…His what.” Tim whispered. Damian glanced up, and almost smirked. Dick was watching him now, with wide eyes that matched Tim’s.

“His bio-chamber. Like the womb I was grown in, or the tube your friend Kon-El was.” Damian tugged a picture from a paperclip and turned it for the others to see. A long vertical tube, with a tiny baby inside. Scientists standing around it. It was dated almost a year ago, around when the baby would have been born.

Dick stood and rushed forward now, taking the photo. Damian gave it to him, and pulled out another photo. A baby lying on a medical table. More scientists standing around. A needle dragging blood from his arm. It was dated a month or two prior.

“The intel Ra’s gave us seems to think the baby is still at the same lab, being raised underground, more or less.” Damian continued. “And being trained as I was – to be a master in everything.”

“Fuck.” Tim breathed, taking the second picture from Damian.

“Who runs the lab?” Jason growled. He hadn’t attempted to look at the photos, and Damian assumed he wouldn’t. Not when his own anger was growing now. “Or funded the project to create a baby?”

Damian flipped through the pages again. “My guess is the funder is the paternal DNA donor.” He held it up for the three to see. “Lex Luthor.”

“He’s trying to create another human-Kryptonian hybrid.” Tim declared. “Just like Conner all over again.”

He reached for the paper – a DNA test – but suddenly Dick reached out and snapped it away first.

“Damian…” He gasped. Eyes round and sad as he glanced up. Damian watched him expectantly. “The mother…”

“Yes.” Damian nodded. “I saw.”

“What?” Jason glanced back from the controls. But then he looked at Damian, and his gut told him what the answer was.

Tim leaned over, as Dick’s shoulders slumped and he said, “It’s Talia.”

Tim gaped and stared at Damian, who gave him a tired smile. “Now you see why I didn’t need to think too long about retrieving the baby.”

Dick stared at the paper even as Tim pushed past him and dragged Damian into his arms. Damian allowed the gesture. Appreciated it, truly, and thanked Tim for it with a soft kiss to the corner of his lips.

“But why?” Dick asked. “They both tried this decades ago and it didn’t work. Why again, after all these years?”

“If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.” Jason huffed bitterly. “But with Luthor? That’s out of left field.”

“She’s got the brawn, he’s got the brain.” Tim thought out loud, shifting to let Dick take the whole file from Damian’s hands. “Objectively, their chances for raw talent is good.”

“And it was a consenting deal.” Dick read out loud as he skimmed the folder. “There’s a contract here that they both signed.” He furrowed his brows. “With a pen and blood.”

“Okay, I’m real over these fucking blood oaths, have I mentioned that?” Jason snapped. “God, you al Ghuls are fucking ridiculous.”

“So what’s the end game?” Dick wondered aloud.

“At this point, does it matter?” Damian asked wearily. “Neither of them are suitable parents, not that I believe either of them are actually there. And whatever they created a life for can’t be good. Nothing that an innocent child deserves, at least.”

“So, in a way…” Jason almost sang, smirking as he reached out to squeeze Damian’s knee. “We aren’t stealing anything at all. We’re rescuing.”

“You can’t turn this around and make us the good guys, Jay.” Dick scolded, even as Damian returned Jason’s smile. “It’s just an…overall bad situation.”

“Because we might be getting a baby out of a lab…” Tim sighed, leaned his head on Damian’s. “But remember who we have to give the baby to afterwards.”

Damian leaned his weight back against Tim’s, reached up and squeezed the hand on his shoulder. “I have a plan for that.”

Tim looked at him expectantly. But Damian said nothing more, sliding out of Tim’s embrace and turning his attention back to the plane’s mechanics.

~~

It was decided that Damian would be the one to do the proper heavy lifting. The actual stealing bit.

The other three got to do the fun part. They got to beat up the guards.

And they had fun with it, like they always did whenever they got the chance to work together in the mask. They laughed and hollered. Kicked and punched. They even flirted, and snuck kisses between knocking the gunmen unconscious or breaking their legs.

They were surprised, though, about the true lack of guard. Sure, there were twenty or so for the small lab. But their weapons were average. And even the scientists who appeared mid-battle seemed to have no fighting skill whatsoever. Just watched in fear even as they ran for their lives out of the building.

There were no injuries on them. Damian seemed to have spared them, or they gave up without even an inkling of a fight. Which, in the end, was probably for the better.

Still, by the time they were done their task, Damian had not returned, and there’d been no cry of a baby either, or even any hint that one existed.

It was about ten minutes of waiting before Jason gave it up with a huff, calling out for their fourth as he began to explore the area. Tim and Dick followed, with Tim deciding to dismantle and destroy any machine they passed along the way.

Eventually, in a lull of silence, Dick held his hand out for both of them to stop and listen. There was music. Soft, but coming from nearby. A lullaby, it sounded like. Something sweet and twinkly.

Tim pushed the others out of the way and took lead rushing towards the sound. There was still no childish cries, or voices. Just the music.

It was a room around the corner, right in the middle of the hall. The door was open, they could see soft light spilling out of it, spinning in shapes of animals and stars against the opposite wall.

They slowly walked towards it, their hearts in their throats.

What if they were wrong? What if Talia or Lex were here? What if there’d been more guards around the child? What if Damian had been struck down again? What if this was all a ruse – there was no child?

What if…what if…?

But no. An instant relief washed over them as they reached the nursery. Because Damian was there, right inside the small room, a tiny child looking eerily similar to him in his arms, cooing as it reached up for his nose.

The music was coming from the spinning nightlight on a nearby table, and Damian was swaying to it lightly as he smiled to the baby.

They watched for a moment, and now it was Dick’s turn to lead, as he stepped into the room, and sandwiched the baby between himself and Damian.

“Boy?” Dick whispered. The baby glanced at him and squealed in greeting.

Damian nodded in confirmation. “No name. His caretakers informed me they just called him by pet names.”

“Jesus.” Jason growled. “Any signs of mom and dad?”

“No. They check in every six months. Apparently they’d visited two or so weeks ago, so weren’t scheduled for another visit for ages.” Damian glanced up at Dick, who was looking at the baby in awe. “He has…things. I couldn’t carry him and them, so was waiting for you.”

Dick smiled at him, kissing his forehead. “You got it.”

The other two entered the room as well. Jason took Dick’s place in front of Damian as Dick and Tim began to gather toys, clothing and baby supplies.

They left the small weapons they found on a corner table.

“…He looks like you.” Jason noted quietly, wrapping what he hoped was a reassuring arm around Damian’s waist. Damian was concerningly quiet. Smiling at the child, but showing no other emotion otherwise. That probably wasn’t a good thing. “…You could be his dad, even.”

“I know what you’re implying.” Damian shook his head, even as he leaned into Jason’s half-embrace. “But no, we are not raising this child ourselves.”

Jason sighed, brushing the baby’s hair off his forehead. “We can’t give him to your grandpa, Damian. We can’t. You and I both know what he wants him for. He’s no better than Talia.”

Damian nodded. “That’s why I have a plan.”

“Gonna share with the class?” Jason asked as Tim came up beside them, diaper bag in tow.

“Later.” Damian hummed, twisting out of Jason’s hold and out of the room, as Dick grabbed the last few things. Jason huffed in annoyance as the three followed him out.

The guards were all still down as they reached the outer room once more, but Damian paid them no mind anyway. He was utterly relaxed, and it had the other three on edge.

“We are…saving him, right?” Tim asked as they got outside.

“I have a plan.” Damian repeated simply.

“…Okay.” Tim sighed, coming up to Damian’s side. “Can we…give him a name, at least?”

“It’s not our place to.” Damian hummed. “He’ll get one soon enough.”

As they walked to their plane parked in a clearing nearby, they suddenly came across the huddle of scientists that had run. Damian stopped as they walked by them, looking at them with an emotionless, almost regal, glare.

“When Talia al Ghul and Lex Luthor come calling.” He announced. “You tell them who stole their newest pet project.”

A pause, to let that sink in.

“You tell them Ra’s al Ghul sent his assassins to destroy his daughter’s work and steal the child for a new vessel.” Damian explained. And then, to everyone’s surprise: “And you tell them that the assassins made a mistake, and the child died in transit.”

Everyone, from Dick, Tim and Jason to the scientists stared at each other, bewildered.

“Tell them that, or I will come back and personally haunt you the rest of your days.” Damian promised. “Understood?”

The scientists, some still crying in fear, nodded vigorously.

Apparently satisfied, Damian nodded, and continued his leisurely pace back to their jet.

The rest of the walk was silent. It wasn’t until they were back on the plane, the doors shut and Dick, now piloting, was getting them off the ground, that Dick murmured: “Damian…”

“I have a plan.” Damian sighed as he plopped into the copilot chair once more, the baby still tight in his arms, almost asleep now.

“You’ve said.” Dick snapped. “And now you need to tell us what that damn plan is.”

Damian seemed to consider for a moment, staring out the front windshield. Jason was leaning against the wall beside Dick, and Tim was leaning against him. It was clearly a three-against-one situation, despite no one actually saying so.

After the silence, Damian clicked his tongue, and hit a few buttons. A second later, a screen popped up on his side of the window. Within it, one Jonathan Kent, covered in dirt as he climbed down from a tractor.

“Howdy, D.” He grinned, readjusting his baseball hat. A dog barked in the background. “Whatcha need?”

“Are they still in Costa Rica?” Damian asked.

“Far as I know, living right outside the capital.” Jon sniffed. “That’s where my last letter came from, anyway. Though you said you’d gotten yours from Vancouver…”

“Yours months came after mine.” Damian reminded. “And on mine they said they were on vacation.”

“True.” Jon nodded. Then glanced around and frowned. “Damian, are you holding a bab-”

“We must go. Tell Conner to expect a call from Drake soon.” He reached forward and hit a button. Jon disappeared. “Set a course for Costa Rica.”

“Why?” Dick demanded.

“Because that’s where we’re taking him.”

“What?” Jason barked. “Why are we taking him to Costa Rica?”

“Ra’s is expecting him.” Tim added. “I…kind of thought your plan would be to take the baby there and then fight Ra’s for him. That way he couldn’t say you broke your deal…”

“I’m not breaking my deal.” Finally, Damian smiled. Warm, genuine and so him. “As far as I’m concerned, I’ve completed my owed favor. And now Drake and I are both free of any hold my grandfather and his league have on us.”

The baby suddenly grumbled, and Damian looked down to tend to him. The others waited patiently.

“…Grandfather demanded I steal a child.” Damian said almost cheerfully. “He never said I had to bring him said child.”

Dick, Jason and Tim were all silent, mouths open in shock and realization.

Then, Jason: “You fucking little shit.”

Damian grinned wider, glancing to Dick. “That’s why I was trying to make you shut up when he told me what he wanted. I didn’t want to give him the chance to include that stipulation.”

Tim pushed from Jason’s side, slowly walking up to Damian as he talked. He stared down at him, eyes darting between the baby and the man holding him.

“We stole the baby. My favor has been completed.” Damian said proudly. He looked up at Tim, reached out to tenderly take his hand. “Now we will take the baby to where it will be safe, and then enjoy the rest of our days together.”

Tim continued to stare at him, before mindlessly blurting, “I have never been so attracted to you in my whole life.”

Damian laughed, and kissed his knuckles.

“Yeah, but Costa Rica?” Dick asked. “Who do you know in Costa Rica? Who does Jon know in Costa Rica?”

“Friends.” Damian said, tugging Tim downwards to kiss him proper.

~~

They had almost reached their destination when Damian’s personal cell phone rang. Dick glanced first at the phone sitting on the dashboard, then the chair to his right – where Damian was fast asleep.

Jason had taken the baby – also asleep – a while ago, and frowned at the caller ID. “It’s gramps.”

Dick was going to ask if they should answer it, but Tim appeared from the back of the plane and hit the button to do so before he could.

“Ra’s.” He hummed.

“Timothy.” Ra’s returned, already on speaker. “When should I expect your troop?”

Tim smirked. “Whatever do you mean?”

Ra’s sighed dramatically. “I’m in no mood to play, Timothy. I’m a very busy man.”

“As are we.” Tim sneered.

“Where is my child?” Ra’s pushed.

“We don’t know where Talia is. Didn’t run into her.” Tim mocked. He leaned against the arm of Damian’s chair, softly glanced at him and reached out to run his fingers through his hair. Damian didn’t wake, but shifted unconsciously to lean into Tim’s presence.

“The infant.” Ra’s snapped. “The one you’ve been tasked to deliver to me.”

“Oh?” Tim asks curiously. “Last I checked, our mission was only to steal an infant. Not deliver.”

There was a pause of silence on the line. Tim kept the grin on his face. “Timothy-”

“Think about what you said, old man.” Jason called, almost too giddy. “Think about exactly what you said when you explained what you wanted him to do.”

Another moment of quiet. They could feel the Demon’s anger growing, even through the phone.

“Damian completed his promise.” Tim whispered. “He stole a child.”

“And if you come after him or Tim now, you break your oath.” Jason reminded. “Your motherfucking blood oath.”

“…You bastards.” Ra’s hissed. “You dirty, honorless street rats-”

“Sticks and stones, Ra’s.” Jason yelled over him. The baby stirred and began to cry. “And don’t think for a second that I won’t shoot you in your goddamn face if you break that oath and show up in our lives ever again. That I won’t do it every single time, no matter how many times you throw yourself in that stupid Lazarus Pit.”

Another moment of waiting. Dick forced himself to keep his eyes on the sky around them. Jason turned away to shush the baby. Tim stared at the phone, absently rubbing at Damian’s shoulder.

“…Tell my grandson congratulations.” Ra’s murmured. “He has never been able to beat me. Not ever, in his whole life. Always too weak.” A low, bitter chuckle. “But there is a first time for everything. And I supposed he saved his victory for when it mattered to him the most.”

Dick, Jason and Tim all smiled to themselves.

“I will keep my oath.” Ra’s declared, but with a tone that suggested maybe not always. That the four of them should always be on their toes anyway, just in case.

Then the line clicked, and the call was ended.

~~

It was sunset by the time Dick landed the plane on a grassy hill in the middle of nowhere. The skies were a deep, bloody red, with tinges of a fiery pink and golden yellow.

Damian departed the jet first, the dozing baby tight in his arms. The others exited in a line behind him, looking around the area in awe. Rural, full of hills and animals and just pure, blissful beauty. A perfect getaway from the stresses of the modern world.

There was a single, small house nearby. A livestock pen and vegetable field close by. A few growing apple trees. Damian walked swiftly towards the front door, and paused when he reached it, before knocking loudly.

A few seconds, enough for the others to catch up to him, then the loud twist of an old door knob, and it was swung open.

A woman stood there. Dark skin, short black hair held back by a headband. Taller than Damian by a head or so.

Damian smiled up at her. “Maya.”

“Damian?” She asked, a mixture of confusion and honestly-not-really-surprised-at-all. At the name, there was the sound of someone else moving in the house. “What are you doing here? And why didn’t you call?”

Another woman appeared around the corner. Blonde, with freckles. A single braid draped across her shoulders.

Jon’s old friend Kathy Branden.

“To ask a big favor.” Damian glanced behind Maya, and nodded to Kathy as she approached.

“No Jon?” Kathy asked.

“Not this time.” Damian said apologetically. “Kathy, I don’t believe you’ve ever met my…boyfriends.” He gestured behind him. “Dick, Jason and Timothy.”

“Call me Tim.” Tim offered when it was his turn to shake her hand. “I think we met at Jon’s birthday party a few years ago?”

“That’s why you look familiar!” Kathy laughed.

“Beloveds, this is my old friend Maya, and her wife Kathy.” Damian offered.

“Long time, Maya.” Dick smiled. “Didn’t know you moved down here. Or got married.”

“Eloped. And we travel a lot, but really like it here.” Maya waved off. “But that’s not important. What is important is why Damian Wayne is currently at my front door holding a baby.”

“Long story short, we need you to take him. Hide him and keep him safe.” Damian cut to the chase, shifting to give the women a better look at the infant in his arms. The boy blinked sleepily. “…You two did always say you wanted children.”

“…Whose baby, though?” Maya asked, even as Kathy reached out to take the baby’s hand. The infant wrapped a tight fist around her finger. “I mean, I can’t imagine he’s yours…”

“My mother’s.” Damian said matter-of-factly. “And Lex Luthor’s.”

Kathy’s eyes flashed. Maya frowned.

“He was raised like I was – artificially. Starting to be trained to kill. And my grandfather wants to harm him.” Damian said, even as Kathy stepped forward and held her arms out. Damian instantly handed the child over. “So we stole him from the laboratory and ran away.”

Maya stared at him, even as Kathy began cooing instantly. Her dark eyes silently darted to the three men behind him, questioning.

“He doesn’t have a name.” Damian murmured. “And even if you and Kathy decide you cannot help him, I’d love for the honor of giving him one to go to you both.”

Maya let her eyes settle back on him, then her face relaxed, and she sighed dramatically. “Alright, alright, get your asses in here. Better to talk over a beer or two than on a front porch, no?”

Damian smiled as Maya gestured to the four to come inside, and stepped forward to hug her even as the others followed Kathy into the abode.

When the others were far enough away, Damian squeezed Maya as tight as he could, relishing in her return of the embrace, and whispered a warm, “Thank you.”

~~

It was Tim who heard the phone buzzing on the nightstand. One of four, and he waited a minute to listen to the pattern, before lazily calling:

“Damian.”

He blindly slapped around for the phone until he felt his fingers wrap around it, then picked it up and flopped over, holding it in the air over the three lying next to him.

(Dick huffed when Tim’s elbow accidentally hit him in the face.)

A second later the phone was taken, the bed shifted, and Damian quietly mumbled, “This is Damian.”

Nosy, the other three, in various stages of not-quiet-sleep, listened. Jason flopped his arm across Damian’s hips, nuzzled into his waist. Tim curled around Dick like an octopus, as Dick stretched his arms above his head, dropping them onto the pillow.

There was a time, not so long ago, just like this. Where Damian was handed the phone for an early-morning call, and had to go face his grandfather for both his and Tim’s lives.

But this time, after the pause, Damian…laughed.

“Oh, is that so?”

The voice that answered was female. When Dick glanced over, he saw a smile plastered to Damian’s face.

Another laugh. “You only call him my little brother when he’s in trouble.”

Jason gave a little groan and tugged on Damian’s waist. Damian, surprisingly, fell back into the mattress, turning into Jason’s embrace.

“Well sure, but I should warn you – Todd is incredibly naked.”

The next second Damian’s phone binged, and he held it up, revealing a video call of Maya, holding the baby she and Kathy gladly accepted from him – on the condition all four of them remain in the child’s life as well.

Samuel Cobb Ducard, they named him. Little Sammy.

“Hi, Sammy.” Dick called, leaning on Jason’s shoulder. He waved, and the toddler waved enthusiastically back. “How are you?”

“He’s terrible.” Maya said, but warmly. Kathy walked by in the background. Tim leaned across the pillows to also be in frame. “Kid can barely walk and he somehow snuck a goat into his nursery. A goat, Damian!”

Damian laughed again. “I don’t see how this is my fault.”

“Same DNA, little bro.” Maya scolded. “I’m assuming he also has your love and mystical ability of obtaining animals. So I’m going to need you to tell me how to turn it off.”

Damian snorted.

“…Nah, really we didn’t call for much.” Maya laughed herself. “Sammy was just missing his ‘uncle’ Dami and wouldn’t stop screaming until we called. So,” She glanced at her son. “Happy now?”

Sammy clapped and giggled.

“You boys get back to sleep. Sorry we woke you.” A quick wink. “Please use condoms if you decide to have some morning fun instead.”

“Goodbye, Maya We’ll call later.” Damian groaned. Maya cackled as she ended the call.

“…I like her.” Tim decided, shifting back into their cocoon of a blanket.

“Hm.” Damian mumbled, dropping his phone to the floor and curling into Jason’s embrace, throwing his arm over Jason’s waist. “I like this better.”

“What?” Jason sighed.

“Freedom.” He whispered. “You. This.”

“Don’t get sappy.” Tim mumbled in a whine. “I’m too tired to be sappy.”

“I like to be reminded that you’re all safe, and we’re rid of my grandfather.” Damian continued. “Sammy’s calls always remind me of that.”

“All thanks to you and that brain.” Jason kissed his forehead as Dick silently took Damian’s hand. “You know what I like best?”

“Dick’s butt.” Damian and Tim said in unison.

“First off, no, I’m not a butt guy, you know that.” Jason scolded, squeezing Damian and slapping at Tim’s arm. “And second off, what I like best is the fact that there are no more goddamn blood oaths.”

Damian snorted, and Tim groaned at the bad joke. Dick laughed, as he wrapped his free arm around Tim’s shoulders, gave a quick kiss to Damian’s knuckles and leaned his face against Jason’s shoulder.

“Together. We’re together, safe and alive.” Dick hummed, closing his eyes, tightening his grip on Damian’s hand on the last word. “That’s what I like best.”

None of his lovers could disagree with that.

[prettylittlebrownskingyal]

I Need A Favor ✨

Damian Wayne x Reader.

Request: Can I please request # 11 (“my mom keeps setting me up, so i need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”) from the fake dating trope prompts with Damian Wayne?

Notes: Don’t we all know an asshole like Chad? Requests still open!

Warnings: a male character that overlooks consent.

Prompt List Here.

 “I need a favor.”

You don’t know what exactly made you think it was a good idea to ask him. Maybe it was because he seemed to be the most suitable person to stump all of your mother’s prying questions, or maybe it was because you had known him long enough that he wouldn’t judge you for asking for this particular favor amongst friends. Or perhaps, and this seemed most likely, it was because asking him to fake date you was easier to do than confess your actual feelings to him.

“What is it?” he asks, book shutting with a snap. He always looked at you so intensely, it made you long to peer into his brain and see what he was thinking.

“You’re not going to be thrilled. Er…it’s kind of mundane.” You tried very hard to return his stare, to maintain level contact with his eyes but as a dark eyebrow went up in intrigue, you felt an immense desire to sit down, legs buckling a little. He was so effortlessly striking.

“If it doesn’t involve matters of life or death, I’m sure Grayson or Todd would be happy to assist you,” he says nonchalantly with a brief flicker of a grin, swinging his legs back up on the table and resuming his reading.

Just spit it out, you chastise yourself. How hard is it to just ask for a favor? It was Damian after all, he would never tease you about it. Besides, he was right. If he declined, Tim or Dick would be nice enough to help you out. In fact, you were sure even Jason wouldn’t mind, although that might just make your mother even more insistent on picking out your new boyfriend. You take a deep breath and his eyes flick up to you as you exhale, mouth quirking in amusement.

“My mom keeps setting me up, so i need you to pretend to be my boyfriend,” You say in one quick breath. Thankfully, Damian doesn’t laugh but he doesn’t look compliant either.

“And why me?”

You look down at the rug, moving a foot from left to right as though you were coaxing the earth to open up and swallow you whole. Why him? Because you had undeniable feelings for him that ran so deep that you were sure his name was written across your heart, imprinted in your bones and weaved into your soul.

Instead you say, “If it’s you, she won’t ask questions. She knows you’re a private person.” You unwittingly move around the table to sit next to him on the other side. His body heat radiates off him in waves and you feel a little light headed when he leans in towards you. He doesn’t say anything, just stares.

“Please Damian,” you start when the silence becomes too overwhelming. “Please, please pl--”

“Alright I’ll do it.”

“You will?”

“Yes. We’re friends are we not? I do not appreciate watching you suffer,” his smile is as warm and genuine as his words. Your stomach swoops and you feel a little dizzy but you manage to stutter out a thanks. “Plus, Talia has been doing the same to me.

November marked the beginning of the new financial year in Gotham city and as the chill of October bled into the frigid cold that meant autumn was at its peak; Gotham City’s elite prepared for the season where summer luncheons and October masquerades seamlessly shifted into dinner parties and extravagant galas under the glow of twinkling lights.

You and Damian had agreed on simple terms. At the next major gala of Gotham’s elite that Wayne Enterprises was set to host, you’d introduce him to your mother as your boyfriend; claim that it was a new relationship which would shut down her quest of finding you a life partner, and after that you’d both slink of to do whatever you wished.

Except, as most plans go, things went awry pretty much at the start at the evening. Damian had gotten caught up in a mission with Jason and had texted you several times to apologize but promise that he’d be there, he’d just be a little late, which didn’t seem that bad. Until you had arrived and your mother warned you to be on your best behavior before immediately ambushing you with three potential suitors all at once; a pretty blonde named Celeste who was fun to hang out with but quietly ran off to another party when her parents weren’t looking, Jeremy, who barely even glanced your way most of the night, instead spending most of his name stalking off to take heated phone calls and Chad, whose father was an accountant at Wayne Enterprises, and who was very clearly on steroids. He spent most of the evening regaling you of tales of his lacrosse victories and drinking a continuous stream of champagne.

You feigned interest valiantly. Across the room, your mother caught your eye and mouthed “Smile. Act more interested.” You briefly contemplated jumping off the nearby balcony, deciding against it because it was very likely that one of the Bat-kids would swoop in to rescue you, the bastards. But as the evening wore on, Damian absence seemed to tear a hole in your heart. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was his way of backing out of the plan. Perhaps it made him too uncomfortable to fake that kind of interest in you? You didn’t blame him. But it still stung.

As Chad reminded you that he was the star player of his team for what seemed like the millionth time, you noticed that he was invading more and more of your personal space with each flute of champagne. Something akin to bile began to rise in your throat as his arm slipped from your shoulder to your lower back, dangerously close to your butt. You fought hard to maintain a neutral expression, but this close the scent of his cologne was suffocating you and you wanted nothing more than to snap his grabby arm and run away. You tried to formulate an excuse in your mind. If you played sick and left early, your mom would just wait until the next gala event to try again and if you out rightly told her to cut it out, she’d get all offended and you’d never hear the end of it.

You briefly succeed in shaking him with the excuse of needing to speak with your mother, whilst he went in search of more drinks. You expected her to at least hear you out but she barely even let you get a word out.

“Go dance with Chad. He seems to be treating you nicely enough.” Yes mother but he’s also been trying to cop a feel all night and I’m not keen on giving him an opportunity, you thought bitterly. To add insult to injury Chad re-appeared with two glasses and an even stronger interest in getting you alone with him. He tugged on your arm, face set in what you assumed to be a pout but much rather looked as though he was constipated.

“Come on. I know you want to. Don’t you want to have some fun?” he slurred into your ear, his fingers digging too tightly into your waist. Bile began to rise in your throat again as you mother nodded approvingly at the sight of you. You couldn’t decide if you were about to be sick or if you were going to burst into tears.

“Come on!” he tried again, a little more forceful this time, “I know you want to.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You can’t be dressed like that and expect me to believe you.” He said arrogantly.

“Excuse me?” you could feel the angry tears threatening to burst like a flooded dam. Regardless of what happened next, even if you broke his nose, you were probably going to start crying. You felt so trapped and overwhelmed. Hurt enveloped you like a blanket; your perfect plan in ruins, your mother refusing to save you from the clutches of a creep and said creep becoming increasingly agitated by your rejection of his advances.

And just when you thought all was lost, when you thought your only option came down to violence, Damian appeared through the grand doors, looking like an angel of salvation in a suit. His dark hair was artfully tousled, one single strand falling across his forehead just so. His skin looked a little wan and he had dark circles under his eyes but he marched towards you with purpose, adjusting his blazer and fixing Chad with a dangerous leer. You didn’t miss the way his jaw ticked or his fists clenched. He played the part of the jealous boyfriend really well.

“Oh thank God, you made it,” you say, walking towards him, positively delighted to let him rescue you, “I was just hmph-”

And then he was kissing you; it was something fierce and primal and a little desperate on your part. His lips were warm and his pink mouth is just as soft as you had imagined it to be. Your hands slid into his hair as he licked into your mouth and when he’d kissed you thoroughly breathless, he pulled away from you slowly with his eyes closed as though the lack of air had made him a little intoxicated.

“Sorry I’m late beloved,” he says, smoothing his thumbs gently across your cheeks.

“It’s ok.” You stutter the words out softly as your head spins; you want him to kiss you again and then again and then forever.

“Who’s your friend?” he asks incredulously, head jerking in Chad’s direction

You bite back a satisfied smile at Chad’s obvious horror, forcing yourself to keep your words pleasant you say, “This is Chad, his dad’s an accountant for your dad, Dami.”

“Oh, really? And in all the years of your father having that position, did he never find the time to teach you about being a decent human being you irreverent leech? You were turned down multiple times and you kept trying to force her. I sure hope that you don’t usually behave like that and I sure hope your father can still be proud of you when he learns of your behaviour here this evening.” You’ve never heard Damian talk like that before. Usually his anger is biting and fierce, but his tone now is calm, only dangerously slow. You feel it necessary to keep a palm against his chest, tethering him to you.

“He’s right. I’d like an apology.”

He stutters out a sorry with wide eyes and a slack jaw and the turns away as fast he can. You make a mental note to ask Barbara to run a background check on him before turning back to Damian.

“How long have you been watching Damian?”

“Long enough .”

Still wrapped in his arms, you lean up on your toes to look directly into his eyes. They still sparkled brightly with amusement, hazel/green pools that were flecked with bits of honey-gold told you that his anger had subsided. You both let the moment linger unequivocally enthralled by each other. His nose brushes against yours and as your breaths mingle; his minty and yours smelling of champagne, he leans in to close the distance and capture you into another kiss.

“Is my mother looking?” you say against his chin once you’ve pulled away.

“Yes,” he says, his voice hoarse. It’s one word but it sounds so delicious that you shiver against him.

“Good. Thank you Damian, you’re the best fake boyfriend ever. I owe you one,” you whisper into his neck.

“Actually, I need to ask you for a favour,” he tilts your chin up, pinning you with his gaze, “Forgive me, but I lied before. I didn’t agree to this just because we’re friends, or because my mother is setting me up; TT she couldn’t care less. I agreed to this, because I could no longer conceal my feelings for you.”

He loosens his arms around you, taking your palms gently into his as you stare at him with confusion written all over your face.

“I said yes because I thought this would make it easier for me to ask. Would you…”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I was about to say, beloved,” he smiles, brilliantly.

“I don’t care Dami. Just keep calling me that and keep kissing me.”

He complies.