#it’s like watching a bar fight slowly escalate to the point everyone inside is throwing punches

[steakbeefe]

CHAPTER 2 EP 12 SPOILERS

So Episode 12 came out

[madirablack]

Home, Part 1

i was told to write some batfam injury angst so here we are. hope you enjoy. part 2 will be up soon.  apologies for inconsistency or if things don't make sense ;-; I'm not very good at this lmao

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He knew he shouldn’t have strayed too far from his brothers. It was only meant to be a quick patrol before they all committed to Christmas eve. They were meant to all make it home tonight, in time to watch a movie together in front of the fire. It was a borderline enjoyable tradition to watch his siblings argue in teams about which movie it would be. The living room at the manor was decorated beautifully, although a Wayne Christmas was never something to go unnoticed. He was eager to take a spot on the armchair with his dog, playing with him as he watched the movie, maybe even allow himself to feel a glint of childlike excitement around it being Christmas eve. Damian had landed on a rooftop, watching his brothers in the distance. He let himself stop and stare for a second. The city had lights and displays blinking ferociously around every corner. The moon had risen fully in the sky, the sights of stars hidden by the glow of Gotham. Despite the light pollution and all the noise, the night was indeed beautiful. He turned back to his brothers, cracking a slight smirk. He sighed, watching the cloud of breath rise and dissipate into the December night. He didn’t even realise as the secret bombs planted in the office building he found himself stood on detonated simultaneously, bringing it to a crumbled mess in seconds.

Jason was down to the wreckage first, his heart beating in his ears as he jumped from the second-floor fire escape on an apartment block just across from it. He said he wouldn’t turn up to the house tonight, but right now he wanted nothing more than for all his family to be safe and with him.  As much as he and the little brat fought about every little thing, he was still his baby brother. The thought of Damian dying in the same way he did was enough for him to throw up. Dick was only a second or two behind him. Clouds of thick smoke caused the latter to choke and gag as they neared the blast site. That didn’t matter. It was a little clearer to see as they got to the remains of the tower. They both got to hauling pieces of wall and window away, calling out for their little brother. Shouts of “ROBIN!” echoed through the noise, each of them breaking protocol and using his actual name at one point. Minutes had passed and they were nowhere closer to finding him, and soon Dick found that it wasn’t just the smoke choking him. Adrenaline flooded his system, pumping and beating like it was trying to escape. That kid had to be okay, Right? His heart was in his mouth as he began to convince himself that he would have to bring home the body of his 11-year-old brother as a Christmas present. It’d be like Jason all over again. The quiet in the manor for weeks at a time. The empty stares. The hurt in everyone’s souls as it would forever be his fault that Damian died so young, in such a preventable way. If only he had just stayed put. He could be at home, sat in the library, being a kid on Christmas eve. He didn’t have to even come out tonight. But he did. He felt his arms start to tremble. Damian was most likely dead. Or at least in the process of being so.

He looked between Jason and the wreckage repeatedly, opening his mouth to speak before he was interrupted

“No. No he is alive and we’re gonna get him outta here. You understand? Don’t you dare fucking give up.” Jason said as he seemingly read his mind before hauling away a huge chunk of drywall, continuing the search. He attempted to use a heat sensor on his helmet, but it picked up nothing, not even his hands when he looked down. He pressed on the latches, lobbing the helmet to his side. It rolled behind a dumpster, resilient enough not to obtain a single crack. He threw away another piece, blinking and coughing as a puff of concrete powder blew in his face. He blinked once more; his vision cleared enough for him to see. A wider look showed the full extent. The base of the wreckage was covered in hundreds of singed Joker cards. Each disgusting little grin sent thunderbolts of pure rage straight to Jason’s core.

Dick’s head whipped around the instant a small whimper filled his ears among the chaos. He tried to haul a piece away, needing Jason’s help. The pair flung the piece far away, stumbling backwards upon what sight awaited them.

Damian was lying limp upon a pile of rubble, unadulterated fear and pain in his face. He was sweating profusely, his face an impressive shade of green. He never was a fan of blood. The sight, the feeling, but mostly the scent. It smelled so sour and intrusive like it was to draw into your very soul and turn you inside out. His suit was turning darker ever so gradually, blood slowly seeping from the rebar sticking out of his chest. He was gasping for air like a fish out of water, desperate and afraid. None of them understood. The suit should be doing far more to protect and prevent bleeds like this, but it apparently could never do everything. He looked up at his brothers, seeing the fear in their usually calm faces. Damian felt his eyes begin to sting with tears, almost as bad as the burn in his lungs as he kept struggling, fighting for breath. Each attempted breath felt like a steel-capped kick in the ribs. He felt blood and bile rise in his throat, he wasn’t sure if the nausea was from fear or the injury. He didn’t want to know. He wanted it all to be over already. The pain from the bar stuck through his chest cut through him like lightning with every beat of his quickened heart. He attempted to talk, but a word turned into a cough and a cough turned into a choke. He coughed blood over his face, feeling the warmth and stickiness of it, the disgusting scent up close and personal to make him even more scared. His eyes widened, tears mixing with blood. At this moment, he wasn’t Robin. He wasn’t the heir to the league. He was just a child. Just a kid impaled in a bomb wreckage site.

Dick rushed to his side, quickly assessing the damage. Looking around as the crowds began to pile up, knowing the cop cars wouldn’t be far behind. He saw the way Damian’s panic escalated as he noticed their audience. “Hey, …it’s alright Damian… shhh…you’re gonna be alright buddy. I’ve got you. Can you breathe? At all?” he whispered, grabbing his hand in an act of attempted comfort. He got a cautious head shake as a response. Fuck. “Ok, well… we need to get you out of here huh? We’ll get you fixed up real soon… alright? Jay, you called him, right? Jay?” he looked up, catching the vacant, glassy expression. He’d seen this with everyone in his family, the thorns of the past stabbing into your sides when you needed it the least, bringing you to your knees when you need to stand tall. This was some of the most unfortunate timing for this, but he knew he couldn’t help it. He grabbed Jason’s hand with his free one, hoping to tug the man back into reality. “C’mon man…  I know it’s hard, but you have to keep it together.” he tugged on his hand again, activating his comms with the other one. He winced as he heard the sound of Damian struggling through another awful coughing fit.

“We need help. There was an explosion, The blackwood offices. Joker’s last Christmas present, most likely. Robin is very badly injured. Bleeding a lot and conscious but unable to breathe. Hood isn’t responding to me. Please... we need you”