#mark grayson brain rot

[arieswritez]

yandere mark nsfw alphabet😳😳 loved the idea

cw; DARK CONTENT! MDNI!!! rape, breeding/baby trapping, dacryphilia, asphyxiation, abusive 'relationships', edging, predator/prey dynamics, nipple play, kidnapping, food tampering, mentions of suicidal ideation, threats of violence, implied death, manipulation, victim blaming, branding, mentions of incapacitation.

about; nsfw alphabet ft. cray cray mark x gn! reader xx a/n; a couple of u asked for this so here it is :D not edited & straight off the dome so excuse any grammatical errors. will edit if necessary xx

A= Aftercare

'aftercare' with yandere mark is patronizing and condescending. a lot of shushing, wiping your tears, and asking why you're so upset. you asked for this with all your fucking cock teasing. it couldn't have been that bad, i mean, he did make you cum! why can't you just let good things happen to you? ;(

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

mark loves your eyes <3 it's the first thing he's noticed from you. how they seemed to gleam and widen while you gave him your undivided attention. he can't count the amounts of times he had to excuse himself and jack off in the bathroom: imagining how your eyes would water with his cock stuck down your throat. or the way your eyebrows would furrow while he jack hammered into you.

C= Cum

yan mark definitely likes marking you with his cum. he likes to see it dripping off your face, along your belly, your thighs, but most importantly, he loves it when he watches it drip out of you. whether you can get pregnant or not - and good luck if you can - there's just something primal about cumming inside of you. marking you in and out.

D= Dirty secret

he's a masochist just as much as he's a sadist. his little obsession with you caused him to get a tattoo of your name <3 right at his adonis belt 🥺 so everytime he's in too deep,, your hands desperately try to hold his hips back,, and your blunt nails dig into the curved lines of your name. it never fails to make his eyes roll into the back of his head 🫶🏽🤭

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

canon typical mark is (was) a blushy lil virgin but yan!mark has a tad bit more experience. he's attractive, he's funny, he knows how to play into the slightly awkward charm that got you to lower your defenses. so it's safe to say it isn't hard to find random hookups every now and then.

it's not all about his experience. he just knows what you like.

you may not know it, but he's. . done his research. and by that i mean, he's logged into your computer or your phone and looked through your browser history. he knows what kind of porn you like. and some of those things are borderline freaky. here you are, acting all innocent, like you wouldn't hurt a fly. or high and mighty like no one would ever dare snuff out your flame.

who would've known you were such a desperate slut?

but that's okay! because he's willing to do anything to satisfy you. . or humiliate you by making you cum. he feels it takes you down a peg, when he pins you down and makes you cum even though you don't want to. even though your mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to hold your climax back while he plays with your clit/cock.

unbeknownst to you, he's watched you masturbate. knows the right amount of pressure & speed that gets your toes curling. he knows you so well & he can't wait to learn more about you 💕

F= Favorite position

mark loves watching you squirm beneath him. most importantly, he loves taking you down. he might even make you think you can get away. the chase, the constant cat and mouse you'd subject him to used to be torture. your teasing, the occasional sliver of skin as you stretched, the way you'd lay your head on his lap as the two of you watched television, the way you'd grin when he blushed. . and the wrestling. god, the play wrestling.

he used to let you win. but now. . now this is real. there's real consequences. so he makes you think you can kick him off while you flail. maybe even lets you get up and run. your elbows are all scuffed during the struggle and he's given you a busted lip, but he lets you think you've won.

god knows he'll catch up eventually.

the games he'd play made you cocky. you thought you were stronger than him instead of considering that it was just him playing nice. so he loves to watch the look of defeat, of deception, anger, and disappointment towards yourself when it's revealed he could've had his way with you all along.

he loves to be on top.

but sometimes,

sometimes,

he likes it when you're on top. some things never change. and lets just say he didn't always let you win play wrestling just because he was trying to be a gentleman. but because he liked the way your weight felt on top of him as you grinned triumphantly, pinning his wrists down.

now, of course, things have changed. he can't let you have all the control. pity. but he forces you to ride him: his hand wrapped around your throat. he could really hurt you if he so much as wanted to. . something he hisses into your ear whenever your pace so much as falters. he makes you work for it. and it takes longer to make him cum when you ride him. fear makes you clumsy, makes your legs shake more, and you're sore and achy and tired, which makes it all the more fun.

so i think his fave is when he forces you to be on top :)

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

yan!mark teases you a lot. comments on how many times he's made you cum, pinches your nipples just to hear you squeal. he's only ever quiet and serious when he's in a bad mood.

H= Hair

mark's trimmed but not necessarily shaved.

you, on the other hand, have to be shaved. not because he finds it unattractive (if anything, it makes him feral. makes him feel like you're something meant to be conquered, something to be domesticated. controlled.)

hence his decision to have you shaved at all times. it's about control.

he forces you into the bath tub and watches as you shave, making sure you're all pretty for him. no, you don't get a say in the matter. you're his little doll. he'll do whatever he wants to you.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

mark is rough. depending on the situation, he may start off slower, softer, easing into you while his words are pure venom. he's grinding into you, making you hiccup, because this type of 'love making' should be reserved for couples. not whatever the two of you have got going on. but of course, he speeds up. roughing you up the more into it he gets.

he's rough regardless of who the object of his affection is, but he's definitely rougher if you're on the masculine side. yan!mark doesn't like to be challenged. he doesn't like talk back. he doesn't like you running around thinking you're big and bad. so he has to knock you down a peg. force you to understand he's stronger than you.

he chokes you out, squeezing your throat until your vision spots. he likes to watch your face change colors. and when your mouth opens, desperately trying to suck in air, he spits onto your tongue 💗

likes it when you - confident, and tough, walking like nothing can ever hurt you - beg him to let you go. beg him not to kill you.

because, sometimes, you fear he just might.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

he does! but when he gets you, there's really no need for that <3

when he hadn't kidnapped you, he'd masturbate all the time. it was the only way to relieve himself. like i rambled about before, he'd steal your underwear and cum into them, use them as tissues to wipe his abdomen clean.

secretly takes pictures of you - upskirts if you wear 'em,, or just candids. cums to your most mundane selfies.

if the two of you were close before he kidnapped you, debbie would send you all types of homemade treats. sweet or savory, whatever it was; you loved debbie's cooking. what you didn't know was that mark would add a little bit of his own . . twist to them. when you'd steal bites of his food, you always wondered why his tasted differently to yours.

and the way he'd stare at you as you ate, jesus.

you thought he just liked the way you'd wolf down whatever his mom cooked. turns out he just liked watching you eat his cum.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

BREEDING!!! whether you can get pregnant or not, he loves the idea of claiming you for a lifetime. of changing your life and forcing you to carry his child. watching you grow round and hormonal. he knows he'd have to keep you on a tight leash; lest you do something you'll regret in order to escape your fate. but it'll be worth it. because after nine months, you'll have another life to look after. you'll be on edge all the time, protecting a fragile, little life, because you can't trust mark to do it.

after all, if you're really bad, he can always get rid of it. start all over again. and you wouldn't want that, would you~?

dacryphilia.

there's nothing like watching you cry. when you'd confide in him about your troubles, when you'd cry on his shoulder, seek solace in his company for whatever reason, and cry. . it'd be really hard to hide his erection. the first time you let yourself cry in front of him was a day he'd never forget. he couldn't stop thinking about it since. wonders if you tear up when someone fucks you. (you do. you will)

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

mark doesn't care where he takes you as long as he's got you. it can be in public or not, just as long as he takes you to the secondary location he'll keep you prisoner in. if it's in the au where nolan & him team up, there will be a compound with all the rebels. you'd be at the top floor in a comfy little penthouse. a gilded cage overlooking the remains of your burned city.

i think he'll first want to fuck you in a place where there'll be no interruptions. if it isn't in the au where him & nolan conquer earth, he knows how to play his role. doesn't want to risk being found raping you. he'll most likely fuck you in a place you hold dear to your heart. your bedroom, could be an example.

because wherever that safe space may be, you won't be able to stand being there without thinking about him.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

he likes it when you act so sure of yourself. when someone's a bit cocky and bossy. it's nice to break you.

it is a whole lot easier when someone's shyer, though. wallflowers always blend into the background.

no one misses them when they go missing.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

there's almost nothing mark won't do to you, sorry ;( even if he doesn't like it. . even if you both don't like it. . he'll always find a way to humiliate you if you've been bad. so it's advised you be on your best behavior if you really don't want him to do some fucked up shit to you. & believe him: it hurts him more than it hurts you!!

all he's ever wanted was to own you.

you were meant for him.

so why fight?

you both know you're not getting out of this alive

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

mark doesn't always give head unless it's to put you in your place. just to show you that he can make you cum and theres nothing you can do about it.

but he makes you choke on him all the time. he's impatient, forcing your head down and hiking his hips up to meet your face. if you've pissed him off, he'll pinch your nose and hold you down. loves to feel your nails dig into the bulk of his thigh. sometimes, you'll make him bleed. he doesn't care.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

mark doesn’t last very long BUT he’s got a very short refractory period and can go for countless rounds. by the time you cum once, he’s already cum like three times and he’s ready for more. by then, he’s already fucked dumb. so your next orgasms will be forced out of you, roughed up and overstimulated as his cum leaks out of you, his cum acting as lube and making the slide intoxicatingly easy.

Q= Quickie

basically non-existent. he loves giving you his undivided attention. and he never stops after one round ;(

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

he loves trying new things with you. he's spent so much time fantasizing about you that he doesn't even know where to start the first time he gets his hands on you. he'll most likely force fuck you more than once in a day the first time he gets the chance to.

S= Stamina

(see pace <3)

T= Toys

loves using toys on you. if you’ve used them before him, he’ll force you to use them in front of him. it doesn’t take long before he takes control: grabbing them and fucking you with them. edging you. if you cum, then it’s only fair he cums, too, right? and you don’t really like that much ;( so best hold it in <3

U= Unfair (how do they tease? edge?)

mark loves to tease and edge you.

you say you hate him. you can't stand him touching you.

you bite and you snarl, kick and punch, yet when he has you pinned, edging you for hours on end. . you end up breaking. begging him to make you cum. of course, he coaches you through it. tells you he'll leave you alone once you cum, he promises. yet he drags it out for so long. hearing you ask to cum instead of asking him to stop is music to his ears.

except, mark is a liar. you shouldn't trust him.

he just ends up overstimulating you after you cum😒

V= Volume

lots of whispering and hissing, talks very quietly and carefully. you'd think he'd be loud. . but he's not. and despite the fact that he may say vile, disgusting things to you, he whispers them to you so nicely. . if he were saying anything else it'd be sweet. he's so patronizing ;( whimpers in your ear when he's close.

W= Wild card

really into pain.

since he's got his powers, it's not very often that he feels pain. sure, there are some fights with villains - while he's out playing the perfect hero in the mean time - that give him a few flashes of pain. but that's once a blue moon.

nothing compares to you.

you fight him like you're afraid he might kill you. and he might. but it's never his intention ;( he knows what kills and what doesn't (trust him) &, believe it or not, he doesn't want to lose you. but you fight him with such intensity he has to manhandle you more than he'd like.

your hits are surprisingly hard. you claw at him and punch and kick, and he's thought about breaking your legs more times than he can count - he still might if you catch him on a bad day - but then that'd leave you completely immobilized and that's really no fun. because he likes it when you make him bleed. he likes it when your hands slap against his face and when your nails try to claw his eyes out. he wears the bruises and the cuts you give him like badges of honor and he loves to bite his busted lip when he's close to cumming.

he loves it when you hurt him. and he loves it when he ends up winning, anyway.

X= X-ray (size)

5-6in & THICK. really pretty w/ plump balls. he cums SO much.

Y= Yearning (sex drive level)

he's got a HIGH sex drive.

you've teased him for so long he doesn't think he'll ever get enough of you. and there's nothing you can do to stop him. if the two of you weren't close - if the two of you weren't friends, etc. - there's nothing you can do to lay low. you'll catch his attention sooner or later and he'll weasel his way into your life before you even realize it. his intentions would appear pure at first. he'd be so caring, wondering if you're doing okay, and protective; who were you talking to? i don't think they're good for you~

and you listened. because it's mark you're talking about. but if you truly knew him, you'd realize his accusations were actually projections.

Z= Zzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

falls asleep fairly quickly after he's wrung himself dry. but that's only IF he's already taken you hostage. if he so happens to assault you while the two of you aren't where he'd like to keep you, he takes you there, first. coupled with his strange idea of aftercare, he is fairly affectionate. or as affectionate as you'd expect him to be, anyway. always with a hint of menace: he'd hold you tight against him, an arm around your waist and the other wrapped around your throat. making sure you don't so much as think about straying away from him 💗💗

[i-talk-too-much]

¡Hola! Vi que tus peticiones están abiertas y quería intentar. Imagina tener a Dick atado a la cama, solo para ti, y demostrar todo el afecto y cariño que le guardas con mordidas y chupetones, marcandolo y jugando con él solo para hacerle sentir tan especial como él te hace sentir a ti. Saludos desde Argentina.

hi! this request was pretty fun to write 🤭 though I'm worried that I went a little bit off track... hopefully, you like it! greetings from New York!

Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 895

Warning: NSFW, MINORS DNI

A/N: there might be a part 2 for what happens next... I felt that I needed to post this before it rotted away in my Google doc for another week. first nsfw post I made :)

Summary: After Dick confides in you about his desire to be taken care of in bed, you decide to do just as he wishes, enjoying every moment of it.

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

Dick's harsh breaths accompanied with his soft whimpers were like drugs to your brain – you couldn't get enough. You loved seeing him all tied up to your bed, each limb spread apart to give you the best access to all of him. 

A few months into your relationship, Dick revealed one night that he liked being submissive in bed – occasionally. The thought of being taken care of made him feel flushed, an almost dreamy sigh left his lips as he told you. Since that night, you planned to do exactly what he asked for. You researched the best techniques and prepared the right materials. You would take care of him just how he usually took care of you – gently and sweetly, worshiping every inch. 

You planned that day carefully. First, you both watched a movie, followed by dinner at his favorite restaurant down the street, and finally – you ended it with whispering sweet nothings once you stepped through the apartment door. That led to you pushing him into your shared bedroom, slowly peeling his clothing layer by layer, until all that was left was his sweet skin – all on display.

You softly tied his wrists to the bed, making sure through gentle words that it wasn't too tight and felt just fine. His eyes were already lidded, no doubt entering the right headspace. 

You left only your underwear on, making sure that you were only going to focus on him, tonight. You would get your pleasure later. 

You began with a soft kiss against his lips, his mouth moving over yours as you deepened it. Not long after, his breaths became louder, your mouth moving to his cheek, his jaw, his neck. Harsh red splotches marked the journey, your lips sucking on his now flushed skin.

His hands kept curling into fists, his biceps tensing against the rope. You smiled, knowing he was embracing the feeling of being restrained from touching you, holding you. 

Your lips continued their motions, moving down to the soft skin of his chest. You brought a hand up to pinch his nipple, relishing in the gasp that escaped him. To the other nipple, you gently nibbled, the sensation bringing forth a whimper you hadn't heard him make before. You repeated the action on the other side, enjoying the sound when it bubbled from his throat again. 

You moved back up, one hand still toying with his now hardened nub. You darted your tongue out to lick his neck, satisfied when he turned his head, giving you better access. You immediately brought your lips to his ear, cooing about how good he was being for you. Delicately biting his ear elicited a breath to catch in his throat. You understood now why he loved kissing your body so often. The gasps and the noises were becoming quite addictive.

You stopped your attack when you heard a strangled word escape his mouth. You sat up slightly, peering at his flushed face. 

His eyes were screwed shut, brows furrowed with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. You asked him to repeat what he said, pinching his nipple a little harder.

"Please." The word was more of a gasp than anything – but the message was clear. 

A cheeky grin graced your face when you saw what it was he was asking for. His hardened cock laid firmly against the taut skin of his stomach. It's tip angry and red, just begging to be touched. You shifted downwards to the space between his legs, your hands caressing the skin around the muscle, but never touching it directly. His hips jutted upwards.

"Ah, ah, baby," you chided. "No moving."

Your forearm laid across his stomach, forcing his hips back into the soft bedsheets. He let out a whine at the added restriction. 

You lifted your hand to grab the base, giving kitten licks on the tip. Your lips traveled to the side of his shaft, placing open mouth kisses as you went on. Your saliva now coated the hard muscle, allowing your hand to easily glide up and down. Dick let out a groan, grateful for the slight pleasure your hand was bestowing upon him. 

Oh, how desperately you wanted to take him inside you. But you couldn't, at least not yet. You had to first bring him to the edge, enough times so that he's whining, pleading, for you to let him come.

And that's what you did.

The first time made a frustrated sigh escape his lips, his eyes teary and expressing his need to finish. The second showed slightly better results, his lips becoming looser as he mumbled words of 'please' and 'baby'. It was after the third time that he gave you what you wanted.

"Oh, baby, please," he whined, his eyes screwed shut, panting. "Just put me inside you, wanna feel you-"

You didn't need anymore encouraging than that, already pushing your underwear to the side, lining up his head with your entrance. The guttural groan that left his being made you shiver, feeling exactly how big he was.

Your head tipped back. The sigh that left your mouth was accompanied by a dopey grin, loving just how good he filled you. You refocused your attention on him when you felt the small thrust of his hips, pinning him with a stare.

"Now, what did I say about moving?"

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

if you're up for it out of the ones you know how would the other non-comics Edwards rank? (Unburied, HQ Show and whichever else you've seen?)

this is going to be considerably more hinged because I just straight up haven't seen a lot of the cartoons that Riddleboy has popped up on and generally have less feelings about them; the comics are where I really get crazy get stupid about him. but let's talk about a couple highlights! no ratings, they're all good little bastards.

John Glover (Batman: The Animated Series)

he's not my FAVORITE favorite but like. come on. he's a good little Riddler! he riddles like crazy! and I like BTAS rogues on principle, I love that they can definitely murder people but stay classy about it.

I usually prefer Riddlers who are driven to riddle by a desire to fuck (with) Batman, but I actually REALLY respect that this guy originally just wanted to murder his shitty former boss. that guy sucked and he did deserve to get disemboweled by a mechanical minotaur in an enormous labyrinth that Eddie apparently spent a year building on his own dime!

I'm also kind of indebted to his existence because Eddie in BTAS spinoff comics is just. my favorite little guy. him!

Dave Franco (Young Justice)

I'm gonna keep this quick because there isn't a lot to say: this Riddler kind of sucks but is also pretty much spot-on. like he's irritating but the whole narrative knows he's irritating; sweet baby Dick Grayson seems fucking exhausted the second he shows up and all the other villains at Belle Reve bully him like a bunch of cunty middle schoolers. I'm a simple man; I love when even the other villains want to kill this man on sight. his design also kind of sucks; like there are so many elements here that sort of work but just aren't that remarkable altogether? he looks like he does other bad guys' taxes.

having said all of that I do genuinely adore that in his first episode he's the only guy who manages to break out of Belle Reve during what was planned to be a mass breakout, especially given that the aforementioned bullying would strongly suggest nobody even told him that was going to happen. I love when he's the slippiest boy! escaping things is sort of a riddle; let him have that.

also, hey, I have to say this: it's just. so weird that he's Dave Franco. he's not bad in the role at all but. why.

Jim Rash (Harley Quinn: The Animated Series)

speaking of animated shows that know he's annoying and just roll with it!!

I like the Harley Quinn series quite a lot for a lot of reasons, mainly because it's not precious about the DC mythos and will frequently just do some buckwild shit with very established characters with absolutely zero hesitations. the Riddler is the opposite of that; this show knows exactly why and in what ways he's supposed to be an insufferable little freak and they go for it full throttle. don't love the bald + question mark tattoo look but he's gay so it balances out.

Hasan Minhaj (Batman Unburied)

yeah there's no normal way to explain this one, this version of the Riddler crawled deep inside one of my brain wrinkles and is still sitting there chirping like a cricket. I can't even explain why but if I think about him too long I begin frothing at the mouth. I think about him a profoundly abnormal amount and I feel great about it. he's only in four episodes and managed to rot a hole in my psyche in significantly less than that. I just think he's neat. he's awful. he's pathetic. he's my little meow meow. I don't want anyone to fix him. I'll cry if he gets worse. I want to see him implode. I've said it before and I'll say it again, whatever happens in season 2 of Unburied is going to make me truly unbearable as a human being.

[kewpiemeayo]

Can you do something with mark grayson where the reader(his gf) cries every time she get complemented because she used to have issues with insecurity ❤️

I'm too uncomfy in this Vancouver weather to write all my requests in full so here's a little h/c!

Mark is shy himself when it comes to dishing out compliments. Especially the first few times he tried, he would either freeze up or completely jumble his words.

He's working on being super smooth when it comes to sweet-talking you or giving you a compliment just to assert his admiration for you.

Once you started to pick up on what he was trying to say, you would shy away or distract him with the good ol', what's that?? pointing out into the distance just to derail his train of thoughts.

Compliments never sat right with you for several personal reasons, something you also didn't feel like bringing up with Mark—he did however sense your discomfort so he never pried.

A few weeks later, after multiple attempts at practicing in the mirror and endlessly complimenting Will, Mark was finally able to tell you just how stunning you were in that cute summer dress under the amber glow of golden hour. He thought you were a goddess.

Your eyes sparkle just right, I don't think any rock in outer space could ever compare.

Tears started to brim at your waterline, nose twitching with anticipation at your building sob—Mark grew so worried his brain stopped actively engaging with the thought of you because he was too busy trying to think back to where exactly he messed that one up.

As you brushed your tears with the base of your palm, your boyfriend finally snapped out of his gaze, a flurry of apologies and questions tumbled out him, hands unsure if he would be allowed to pry your hands away to assess you or if he should sit closer and put his arms around you.

"I'm so sorry, [Y/N]. That probably sounded bad, I meant like-like you're one of a kind, super special and unique you know? Not unique as in bad—oh god this is getting so out of hand. Please don't cry, I'm really sorry I won't say it again!"

That only made you sob even more, now trying to hide, shielding Mark from the sight of you bawling your eyes out.

Your boyfriend was now 100% sure he screwed up, settling on pulling you into a hug instead, eyes darting from side to side to find something—anything—he could distract you with.

Finally calming down, Mark pulled away enough to peer down at you with concerned eyes, "I fucked up really badly didn't I?"

You shook your head, the last of your tears dripping down your chin as you feebly wiped at them as you explained through sniffles that you find it really hard and overwhelming to accept compliments because you didn't see yourself in the same way, laced with worries about your own body and skin, never once able to admire yourself in the mirror.

What do you mean you don't think you look good??? Mark was appalled, he wanted to repeat himself until you smiled and agreed but your boyfriend was also TERRIFIED that it would make you cry again.

In hindsight, this may not have been the best course of action but Mark asked you what exactly it was you didn't like about yourself. Carried away in a shy tangent, you listed the things from head to toe you didn't like, your boyfriend patiently listening to every word.

It was unnerving to point out all your flaws, now afraid that he would have more reasons to dump you over your insecurities, but when you looked over at Mark, he had the sweetest, tooth-rotting smile on his face.

You absolutely dreaded for what was to come next, heart pounding as you tried to will yourself not to cry again, except Mark pull you in for a soft kiss on your lips and casually quipped, "You may not be your own type, but certainly are mine. Perspectives vary from person to person, how you see yourself is certainly not how I see you."

???

"Slowly but surely, you will come to love all those things you listed—which by the way—I either never noticed or I simply don't see it the way you do. It'll be hard to convince you otherwise, but I'll never stop complimenting you, even when you finally give in and see yourself differently."

Mark's smile instantly dropped when you started to tear up again, it's kind of a hard cycle to break but Mark has all the patience in the world when it comes to the love of his life.

Even when you brush him off, roll your eyes or bashfully fold into yourself to avoid his words, Mark will slowly but surely incorporate all the positive words in the world's biggest thesaurus to convey just how much he loves and appreciate you for who you are.

>> Masterlist

[fearfulkittenwrites]

“Are you awake?” and “I... I want a hug.”

Summary: Damian has been getting bullied by his classmates for a while now. When he finally reaches a breaking point, the boy tells Dick what happened, and his older brother gets mad. He can't believe Damian, the boy he loves so much, the boy he helped raising, is going through the exact same thing he had to endure years ago, in the same school. You'd think the problem would be solved by now.

Word Count: 4951

Warning! There’s some racism expressed in this work! (I didn’t want to put it in the tags because I think it would be rude to put fanfic on a tag that is mostly used for more important things, so I thought it best to let you know here)

Notes: Hello! This work has been beta'd by @3ambird​ ​, I don't know how you make time to help me, but I'm so glad you do!! Thank you. Also, if you haven't checked out their works, please do. Their recent fanfic is Dick Grayson centric and it made me cry. One of my favorite works ever.

(Also, to the anon who requested the “I want a hug” prompt with Dick and Bruce, I’m not ignoring you! It should be the one up next, okay? I just had this one sitting on my computer for a while, so I had to post it first, hahahaha!)

Damian took a deep breath. Mathematics was always the worst class of the day. He took his seat, middle row, third chair. The classroom was filling up, and there was no one behind him yet. That gave him a couple of minutes to close his eyes and try to gather his strength.

The problem wasn’t the subject. Damian already knew all that he was being forced to re-learn, making all of his classes nothing but a nuisance. The problem had a first and a last name: Warren Pruitt.

Damian felt his desk being roughly pushed, and opened his eyes.

“What? Did I disturb your prayers?” Warren smirked.

“Fuck off.” Damian answered. He felt his stomach twist, wishing he could solve this like he solved things as Robin.

Warren took his seat behind him, purposefully shoving his desk against the back of Damian’s chair.

“Refrain from doing that, Pruitt.”

“Or what? You’ll blow up the school?” His little clique laughed loudly, making explosion sounds in the back “Allahu akbar! Ha ha ha!”

“You can’t even be racist properly.” Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m not Muslim, you idiotic naked ape.” Another shove sent his chair inches forward, pressing his stomach against his desk. He pushed back, and was shoved forward again “Stop it.” He gritted his teeth.

“Shut up, Al Ghul.” Warren sneered, a cruel smile on his lips.

Damian had never felt any embarrassment towards his heritage. He took pride in both of his last names, the signs of two powerful dynasties that had combined to create him. He was a symbol of strength because of them, and he was proud of it. But the way it was said, like it was an insult, like it was tainted, like it made him lesser, left a bitter taste in Damian’s mouth, so he corrected the boy.

“Wayne.” He growled “My last name is Wayne.”

“We’ve been over this already, Al Ghul.” One of Warren’s pack of imbeciles spat as Warren leaned forward against his desk, pushing Damian’s stomach into the wood, hurting him.

“Yeah, we have.” Another boy, Charles Du Pont encouraged, watching from the desk to Damian’s left. Damian gritted his teeth.

“You can try all you want, but you’ll never be anything more than the arab boy you are. You’re lucky your father is enough of a moron to let you in.” A fourth kid - Michael Chase, Damina’s mind supplied - leaned in, mocking him.

“Yeah. My dad said he’d throw you on the streets, let you rot in one of Gotham’s orphanages. It’s what you deserve for trying to take our places.” Warren said.

The bell signaling the classes beginning rang, right as the teacher walked in.

.................................

The words kept ringing in Damian’s ears for the rest of the day. He doesn’t know why, but he can never find the proper words to shoot back at them. And he doesn’t know why it all bothers him so much.

Going back home, Damian threw his backpack into his bedroom and walked through the halls, stopping when he saw Tim’s open door, both him and Duke reading through an essay.

“-tt-” Damian clicked his tongue from the door “Can’t do your own papers by yourself, Drake?”

“Shut up, brat.” Tim answered.

“Whatever. Where is Grayson?”

“Sleeping.” Tim answered “Why, what do you want?”

“It’s none of your business Drake.” He crossed his arms, leaving and continuing down the hall.

He rubbed away some tears forming in his eyes. Of course Dick would still be sleeping, he was on patrol until the sun had risen. Slowly, he creaked open his brother’s bedroom door.

“Are you awake?” He whispered.

“Hm...” Dick murmured “Dami?” He lifted his face from the pillow to look at the boy. Damian’s eyes landed on a noticeable bruise on his cheekbone “What’s wrong?” He slowly sat up, noticing the look on his baby brother’s face.

“Nothing.” Damian answered, swiping away more tears.

“Liar.” Dick accused, smiling “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Damian removed his school blazer, hanging it on Dick’s chair as he kicked off his shoes.

“Don’t get up. You need to sleep.” Damian said. Dick frowned, laying back down.

“Okay.” He started, carefully “But what’s going on little d? What do you need?”

“I...” He tried, but his voice cracked as he sat on the bed.

“It’s okay.” Dick whispered, stroking his back “What do you want me to do, Dami?”

“I... I want a hug.” He laid down next to his brother, who pulled him close to his body.

Dick felt him sobbing against his chest, and kissed Damian’s hair, holding him tightly.

“What happened, hm?” Dick whispered gently against his head “What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. I just want to sleep for a while.” The boy whispered back, placing his hand on top of his brother’s.

“Okay.” Dick answered “We can do that.”

“Thank you.”

Damian noticed how much bigger his brother’s hands were when compared to his. Part of it was due to the amount of punches he had thrown in his life, making the bones spread apart, giving it a wider aspect. Part of it was due to the fact that Damian was still a child. He noticed how both of their hands were calloused and rough, but still in infinitely different ways. His hands had been marked by the sword, while his brother’s were shaped by his escrima sticks and the bars of the circus.

Truth is, Damian focused so much on his hands because the size comparison made him feel safe. Above all, having something to focus on helped him fall asleep faster. Dick was already used to the feeling of small fingers moving his hand around, counting scars and feeling bumps, until both of them drifted off.

About an hour later, Dick woke up to the feeling of his brother moving around the bed, awake too.

“Hey.” He smiled, stretching “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” Damian answered, staring at the ceiling. His face was smashed, hair a mess, and his button up shirt had creases everywhere. Dick played with his brother’s hair as he blinked slowly “That feels nice.”

“Yeah.” Dick chuckled “Listen Dames, I need to grab some food. Come with me?” Damian nodded in response, and both of them got on their feets and walked to the kitchen.

Dick looked through the cabinets for something to eat. Damian pulled a post-it off the fridge door.

“Pennyworth left you a sandwich.” He grabbed it, handing it to his hungry brother.

“Sweet!” He exclaimed “Alfie really is a life saver. Want some?”

“No, thank you.” Damian refused. They sat across each other at a table.

“So... Want to talk now?” Dick asked. The boy remained silent “C’mon Dami. You know I’m here for you, right? You can trust me.”

Damian hid his face in his hands.

“I’m ashamed.”

“Why?”

“I... I feel like a coward.” He almost growled “It’s... As if I was weak.” Tears slid down his cheeks.

“What’s going on Damian?” Dick asked again, softly.

“Promise...” He started “Promise you won’t get mad. Please.”

“Of course I won’t Dami.” His brother had soft eyes, staring at him. Damian swallowed.

“Pruitt and his group of brain dead morons.” He wiped the tears away and punched the table “I let them get to me. I don’t know how to deal with it, and that makes me weak.”

“What are they doing to you?”

“They keep... Insinuating that I’m a terrorist. Shoving my chair and telling me that...” He frowned “Telling me that father should have left me in an orphanage. Because of… My heritage.”

Dick examined him for a moment.

“Damian.” He called “Dami, look at me.” He caught his brother’s hand “This isn’t your fault. And it doesn’t make you weak. You don’t know how to deal with this because you shouldn’t have to deal with this. I need you to understand that, okay?” Damian nodded “Listen, we need to talk to your principal about this.” Damian’s eyes widened “I know. I know how it sounds, I’ve been there. But believe me, it will get better. The first step is to let people know what’s going on.”

“What is the second step?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On what will happen after the first.”

.................................

The next morning, Dick insisted on taking his brother to school. He convinced Damian to talk to Bruce about what had happened, and now both his father and brother were in the car, headed to school to talk to his principal about the bullying he had been facing.

After all the students had properly settled in their classrooms, the principal welcomed the Waynes into his office.

“Mr. Wayne! What can I do for you?” He asked, a polite smile on his face.

“Well, Mr. Jameson, I was recently made aware of some... Concerning behaviour happening on school grounds.”

“What kind of concerning behaviour, Mr. Wayne?” The principal joined his hands, portraying a curiosity Dick knew to be fake. He rolled his eyes.

“What has-”

“Racism.” Dick cut Bruce off, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair “We’ve recently found out that Damian has been dealing with racist comments and actions coming from some of his classmates.” Bruce gave him a discreet look, but didn’t say anything “What?” He whispered to his father “How long were you two planning on dancing around the topic for?”

The principal cleared his throat.

“I assure you, Mr. Grayson, I’m just as appalled by this allegation as you are.”

“Allegation my ass.” He shot back.

“Dick.” Bruce quietly warned.

“Look, the way I see this, it’s all very simple.” Dick said, palms spread on the man’s table as he spoke “I had to endure racism back in my student days, and now Damian is having to suffer through the same thing, because your administration has failed to correct this behaviour when it first happened, despite my countless cries for help during my middle and high school years.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows.

“I can’t really argue with that, Mr. Jameson.” The man brought his hands together, resting them on his lap.

“Yes, I see.” The man answered, an uncomfortable smile on as his face took on a pale tone “Uhm, why don’t you... Give me a list with the names of the children involved so we can schedule a meeting next week with the boys parents and...” He cut himself off as he looked at Bruce’s face.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jameson, but I assume you know that I run a business? And that my time is very scarce?” Bruce started “I am here now. Doesn’t that send a clear enough message of my expectations?”

“I- Uhm, yes, of course, Mr. Wayne.” He started again “If you can give me the names of the children, I’ll call their parents in immediately.”

“That’s great.” Bruce smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes “I happen to have a list with me.”

.................................

A couple of hours later, only three of the kids had their guardians present. Both the principal and Bruce decided that the fourth one could wait a day or two and that there was no real need to keep anyone waiting any longer.

“Mr. Jameson,” Angus Pruitt, the father to the blonde Warren, leader of the group, stated, as his wife held her dear boy close “What is this all about?”

“Well, you see,” The Principle said, sweating profusely. Dick could understand the nervousness, seeing the delicate audience he was speaking to, but was too angry to even try to empathize “It has come to my attention that young Mr. Pruitt, along with Mr. Du Pont and Mr. Chase,” He gestured towards the two other boys, “Have been involved in some...” The principal eyes met Dick’s enraged stare, and the man dropped his head. Bruce felt compelled to nudge his son and get him to stop “I, uhm...” He stumbled over his words.

Dick sighed and opened his mouth, too quickly for Bruce to stop.

“Your kids have been saying some pretty racist shit to my brother.” Dick said, leaning back on the wall “Now that I know who is involved with all this, can’t say I’m all that surprised.” His eyes locked with Mr. Du Pont, the man whose first son, Lawrence, was also brought in multiple times for bullying Dick back when he was in middle school.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Well, Dick and Damian seemed to be thriving in it, but everyone else was thrown off by the latest statement.

“And what exactly are you doing here, Mr. Grayson?” Mr. Du Pont said, looking into Dick’s eyes with the same cold disgust he always had “Isn’t this meeting supposed to be only with the parents and students?”

“Well, first of all, I’d like to see you try and get me out of this room.” He shot back “And second, I’m listed as one of his legal guardians, so get-”

“That’s enough, Dick.” Bruce placed a hand on his chest, stopping him.

“Is that so, Mr. Wayne?” Mr. Pruitt spoke up “Why?”

“Old money comes with old enemies.” Bruce said, arrogant posture matching the others “If anything were to happen to me, I’d rather be sure that Damian would be in good hands. Not that I’d expect you to understand the actions my kind of people take.” He said, softening the verbal aggression with a smile. Dick bit the insides of his lip to hold in his laugh “Now, shall we discuss what are the actions that this school will be taking to eradicate the racism your children so eagerly take part in?”

The principal swallowed as all eyes turned back to him.

“W-well,” He started “The first thing is...” He glanced up at Dick for a second “Appropriate punishment.” Dick smiled at the man “One week of after school detention for each of you.”

“What? That’s not fair!” The Chase kid, Michael, cried in complaint.

“Be quiet, dear.” His mother said, looking down at him.

“But I’m gonna miss my tennis tournament!” He wanted again.

“Well, maybe you should’ve thought of that before you bullied your classmate, shouldn’t you?” She replied, stern, shutting the boy up.

Dick raised an eyebrow. Maybe there was some hope for these kids after all.

“Well, I also believe this punishment seems a little unfair.” Mrs. Pruitt said, still holding her boy, who now looked like a scared mouse.

“A little unfair?” Dick started.

“Dick, please...” Bruce said, putting a hand on his son’s chest. Dick looked at him for a second as he lowered his father’s arm, and that glimpse Bruce had was enough to let him know that there was no stopping him now. Trusting his son’s judgement, he backed down.

“You wanna know what’s unfair?” He leaned over one of the desks in the room, supporting his weight on both hands “Unfair is me getting tripped on hallways and being called a circus freak. Unfair is me having to hear slurs directed at me everyday while I’m trying to learn. Unfair is the word ‘gypsy’ being carved into every single one of my seats, and spray painted on my locker, twice. Unfair, is me getting beat up behind the school dumpsters because of my non-whiteness. Unfair is the death threats I was sent every other week, telling me I don’t belong here. Unfair,” Dick stared into her eyes “Is your son getting only a week of after school detention when the shit he’s said and done could very well warrant jail time if he wasn’t a minor. So shut the fuck up about “unfair”, because they are being let off easy. The shit they’ve been pulling ruin lives. If it was up to me, they’d get so much worse.”

The room went quiet once again. Dick punched the desk lightly before moving back to his previous position.

“Now, dear Principal Jameson,” He started over “Let’s talk prevention.”

“W-What?” He whispered out.

“What do you plan on doing, moving forward, so that this kind of behaviour doesn't happen again, hm?” Dick crossed his arms, scowl on his face. The man was silent, mouth open as if he wanted to speak, but had no clue on how “No? Well, let me help.” He offered them his most plastic smile “I think...” Dick paced around “The school should provide workshops; maybe even a steady course about racism, what it looks like, how it harms people, how to fight it. Make it mandatory for every little prick that decides they can use a slur or shame a peer for their heritage or culture.”

“Bu-But the money...”

“Is not a problem.” Dick interrupted. He looked at Bruce, who had a small smirk on his face “Is it?”

“No, not at all.” Bruce said “We are more than happy to provide the needed funding, if it goes into such an important project.”

“See?” Dick smiles at the man once again “But, of course, I’m not done. I think, and I’m just spitballing here, but, maybe, we should make this an expellable offense.”

“Hey now, young man,” Mr. Du Pont started “I think you may be overreacting just a bit.”

“Do you?” Dick looked at him “Well, of course you do, you thought I overreacted about everything back in middle school. Have you ever considered that maybe you’re simply underreacting?” Dick’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips. He had a room full of rich adults nervous. He was enjoying this a little too much “But relax, I’m not saying your little brats should be expelled. At least not yet.” He smiled back at the principal “I think that repeat offenders should be expelled. Once? Fine, maybe an honest mistake. They’re young, give him a chance to learn. Twice? That’s definitely racist and shouldn’t be tolerated in such a fine institution.” He stared at the man, and was surprised by the amount of time the other was able to sustain the eye contact.

“I will have to bring that up in the next board meeting, and...”

“Great!” Dick interrupted, charismatic “Great, you do that, and I think we’re done here. Why don’t you send the kids back to their classes now, hm?” He grinned, fake, plastic, and just a little bit malicious.

“Good idea.” The principal retributes the smile “Run along now children. No detours of any kind on your way back to your classrooms.”

.................................

As they were making their way out, Damian pulled at Dick’s hand slightly, getting his attention.

“What’s step two now?” Damian whispers to him.

“Well, now you go back to class and tell me if this happens again.” Dick answered, and Damian kept staring at him “Hey, step one went well. You shouldn’t have to worry about this anymore.”

Damian stopped cold in the middle of the hallway. Bruce and Dick stopped too. Damian then suddenly threw his body against Dick’s, nearly tackling his brother to the ground in a quick and intense hug. He didn’t say anything before walking back to class.

“So, seeing as you’re the expert,” Bruce said, serious but with a bit of happiness in his tone “What now?”

“Now,” Dick sighed “Now I call Jason and see if he’s free to drop off and pick up Damian with me for the next couple of weeks. If Tim wants to tag along, that’d be nice too.” He shoved his hands in his pocket “If I know one thing about these guys, is that their older brothers are all still the same racist dickheads they’ve always been. But they are... Aggressive.” Bruce noticed how his son placed a protective hand over his own stomach at the thought “So I think we should probably be here for a while. Just to make sure nothing happens.”

“Okay.” Bruce nods, and solemnly he adds: “I wish you didn’t have to deal with this.”

“Yeah... But don’t beat yourself up over this, okay? It’s not your fault and you’re doing all that you can.” Dick reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing slightly.

.................................

The rest of the day, Dick had an awful restlessness inside him, constantly bumping his legs or tapping on a surface. He had this awful gut feeling (that one might call instinct), as if he knew something bad was bound to happen today. He hoped he’d be there when it happened. That feeling made him drag Jason and Tim to the school about an hour earlier, the three of them waiting by the car silently. The only reason his brothers didn’t question his acts was because they also felt the same worry take over their bodies whenever they thought of the little brat.

When the bell rang, all of them had moved closer to the gate.

“Oh, fuck no.” Dick exclaimed, looking at three guys standing nearby. He grabbed Jason’s attention “Those are the assholes that fucked with me back then.”

“Do you think they are really here for Damian?” Jason asked, concerned.

“What else would they be here for?” He bit his lip “But yeah, I’m also concerned about a lawsuit. We can’t just beat them up for no reason.”

“What do we do?” Tim asked the older man.

“Let’s get closer. Wait. And pray to the heavens that I’m wrong.”

But Dick wasn’t wrong. And as soon as the group saw Damian approaching they started to walk towards him, trying to intimidate the kid.

“Ayo, Al Ghul, we’ve got something to say to you!” He heard one of them yell. Lawrence Du Pont, of course.

“Hey, leave him alone!” Dick yelled.

Lawrence pushed Damian, making him fall on his butt. Dick reached him just in time, throwing the man to the ground in an impressive judo move, putting as much weight as possible on his ribcage, hoping to break a bone or two.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch my brother again, you disgusting little shit.” He whispered, getting up. The man remained on the floor.

Jason punched one of them in that perfect spot by the jawline, making him pass out immediately. Dick turned his gaze to the other man.

“Wanna run, do it now, bitch.” He growled, and the guy proved that he had a little intelligence left in him, leaving quickly.

Tim had already helped Damian to his feet, but he was unusually pale. A security guard came to check on what all the fuss was about and Jason quickly filled him in, sliding the man a more than generous tip for his troubles. Tim had a protective arm around his younger brother’s shoulder, and Dick rested a hand on his back, guiding them to the car.

“Listen Dames, from here on now, you have permission to fight anyone that physically threatens you, full force.” Dick says once they are back in the car, looking at his brother on the back seat “Just pick one fighting style and try your best to stick to it. It helps to cover anything up in case the media comes in snooping.”

“I see.” Damian states as Jason starts the car “So Jason picked boxing, I can see why, and you picked judo, which is the opposite of what I thought to be closest to your actual style.”

“It was part of the choice too.” Dick sighed, looking out the window “It’s distant from Nightwing, so less of a problem there, and it’s easier to plead self-defence.”

“But...” Damian frowned “Did you ever use it for anything other than self-defence?”

“No. But getting anyone to believe it was in self-defence was damn near impossible.” Dick’s words felt bitter “So judo was my pick because it’s not as lethal as, say, jiu-jitsu can be, but also takes proximity, meaning someone put their hands on me first.”

“Hopefully you won’t need to do it.” Tim said, sitting across from him on the car “But if you do, try to get it on tape so we can put it on youtube and go viral.”

“No,” Dick protests over Jason’s snickering “No, try to stay away from cameras. We don’t need that kind of press.”

Damian smiled as he looked out the window. The peace of the rainy day outside the car was a perfect contrast to the chaotic conversations his brothers had inside of it, talking loudly, arguing and laughing.

When they got back to the manor, Cass and Duke waited for them in the kitchen, stirring a pan and quietly arguing about what to do or not do.

“No, trust me, we don’t need anything else, you just have to be patient...” Duke said “No! Put that down, I’m not adding cornstarch on this.”

“But the guy on youtube...”

“I know what the guy on youtube said, but forget about the guy on youtube for one second, I know what I’m doing.”

“It’s not going to work.”

“It’s going to work alright.” Duke frowned.

“Duke, Cass,” Dick said, his three brothers standing behind him, all of them very curious as to what was going on “What are you doing?”

“Hot chocolate.” Cass answered “But he’s making it wrong.”

“I’m not making it wrong, I’m making it better.” Duke shot back to Cass before turning to his brothers “We heard that Damian had a rough time and... We wanted to make him something nice.”

“This makes me feel happy, so it will make Damian feel happy too, I’m sure.” Cass said “If Duke gets it right.”

“Oh My God woman, will you stop questioning my skills for a second?” Duke shot back.

“It’s not getting thick.”

“It is getting thick, trust me.” Duke said “Just... Sit down on the table and let me do this, all of you.”

“You heard the boss.” Dick jokes, escorting his siblings to the kitchen table.

Damian sat down next to Dick, who was across from Jason. Sitting on Jason’s left side, facing Damian, was Cass, and on his right side, Tim. Damian looked around, taking in the sweet chocolate scent that filled the room, and felt a slight touch to his fingertips. Cass had reached out to him. None of them said anything, but she smiled at her youngest brother, and Damian understood what she meant, offering a small smile back.

They talked loudly, filling the Wayne’s huge kitchen with laughter and warmth, teasing each other, poking fun, sharing stories and memes with each other, being themselves. Damian noticed how much better everything felt now that all of them had moved back in the manor. For a period of time, when it was only him, father and Tim, everything felt a little lifeless, a little dull. When Cass came back to live with them, things started to get better.

But for Damian, the biggest turning point was Duke. His honest, sharp mind brought balance and fun into the house in a way none of the others did. Dick’s frequent visits became even more frequent, to the point where the man just decided to move in and help Bruce deal with the new hoard of teenagers he had brought in (or to help the teenagers deal with Bruce, which is decidedly harder). After that, Tim seemed healthier, happier, more light-hearted. Their heated arguments subdued a lot. And somehow, even Jason began to find the house comfortable again. He still travels back and forth, alternating between his place and the manor, but Damian was almost grateful for his presence now. His straightforward style helped cut through a lot of bullshit speeches.

The thought brought tears to Damian’s eyes. He didn’t fully understand why he cries at moments like these, but right now he couldn’t help it. The table slowly turned silent again as he hid his face in his hands.

“Dami?” Dick called, and Damian’s cry became even more compulsive and unstoppable when he heard the nickname “Dami, what’s wrong?” His brother’s voice was soft and filled with worry, and Damian felt his hand brushing against his arm.

Damian shaked his head and leaned forward, hiding his face in Dick’s shoulder. His tears left wet marks on his brother’s shirt.

“I-I don’t know.” Damian whispered.

Dick hugged him, strong hands rubbing his brother’s back.

“I-I...” Damian tried again “I can’t help it. I’m sorry.”

“Can’t help what, Dami?”

“Crying.”

“It’s okay.” Dick whispered “It’s okay to cry.”

“I love you.” Damian sobbed “So much. It hurts.”

“Aw, Dami...” Dick smiled, planting a kiss to his brother’s scalp “We love you too. So much that it hurts.” He squeezed his brother a little tighter, and Damian sobbed louder and louder, until he was gasping for air “Hey, calm down,” Dick whispered again “We’re not going anywhere, Dami. I’m right here. It’s okay. Breathe. Shhh...”

Damian still felt weak. He knew that it would take a while for him to feel strong again, after what happened. But he knew he had his family with him, borrowing all the strength he could need until he got his back. As he calmed down, Duke sat a huge mug, filled to the brim with the thickest, glossiest, most mouth watering hot chocolate he had ever seen.

“Be careful, it’s still super hot.” Duke warned, handing him a long spoon and ruffling his hair. He took his place on the opposite side of Dick after setting down cups for everyone else “Just for the record,” Duke smiles as he sits down “I’d like to say that this turned out great and I knew exactly what I was doing, so eat your heart out Cassandra.”

The girl stuck her tongue out as her brother’s snickered at the teasing. Soon, the table was filled with laughter again, but this time Damian didn’t cry. He was too busy being happy to do so.

[supportforindieauthors]

Hell in Huntington by Zach Larson

Dark waves crashed onto the beach in front of Ram, sending a spray of mist into his face and showering his bare legs with droplets of saltwater. He smelled the brine and seaweed clinging to the humidity in the air. Raising his eyes from the churning waters, he focused on the moon, nearly full in its orbit. Stars shimmered down through the clear skies. He idly checked his watch: 4:15 a.m. The clouds would come soon, veiling the sky so completely that you could barely see your hand in front of your face. What did Hades hate about the light of day? The God of the underworld should want a bit of sun and relaxation, right? Why else would he have forsaken his throne and set up shop on a California beach? Ram sighed and tore his gaze away from the blissfully clear sky as he began his plodding march toward Huntington Beach Pier.

His feet sank into the cool sand as his head swiveled from the crashing waves, across the empty beachfront, and back. A buzz rumbled softly in his pocket. After checking the beach behind him, he stopped and pulled out his phone. A new text from Jimena flashed in his notifications.

Took out three wheezers. No other sentries. Get your black butt over here! His ears barely caught the telltale death rattle over the roar of the waves. Ram spun around just as a shadowy form collided with him. The thing’s weight threw him backwards into the sand. He hit with a thump, dropping his phone. Rot and decay filled his nose as the corpse lowered its sagging face towards his neck, air rattling deep in its throat. The wheezer had been a woman once, with long red hair that now hung in clumps down her back. Her dress was stained and ripped, barely clinging to her shoulders. He reached up with his left hand and tried to grip her thin neck, but the loose skin there slipped under his fingers. Still, Ram managed to force the struggling form back long enough to draw his knife with his free hand. He watched the wheezer’s frenzied eyes roll as he stabbed through its skull into its brain.

With a grunt, he tossed the now limp form away and scrambled to his knees. He scanned the sands frantically, searching for the dark shape of his phone. His hands combed through the sand, prospecting for anything solid. A spot near one of his hands vibrated. He breathed a sigh of relief and dug his phone free. A shake cleared most of the sand from the screen, revealing another text.

Am I doing this on my own? Ram ignored the text, staring instead at the screen saver of his son’s face, bright and smiling. His breathing slowed and he resheathed his knife. Finally, he sent a short reply.

Be there in three minutes. He stood and spit on the corpse. “Zombies!” None of the damned wanted to stay where they belonged; he was going to change that.

No other undead souls troubled him on the way to the pier. He slipped into the deeper shadows between the supports that held up the deck. Enough moonlight filtered through the planks above that his eyes only needed a second to adjust.

“It’s about time,” Jimena hissed at him. Her caramel colored skin looked almost as dark as his in the gloom. Her hands rested on her hips impatiently. “Got jumped by a corpse looking at your text.”

She snorted and swept her hand behind her, indicating a mangled pile of limbs and torsos. “Took out three of them when I got down here. By. My. Self. No excuses for you.”

He smiled. “Fair enough.” She moved closer, inspecting him. “You get bit?” He shook his head. “Nah. They don’t like chocolate.” She snorted again. “Good, cause those teeth leave a nasty mark. Still got a scab on my arm from the last one.” Her fingers subconsciously brushed the back of her forearm as she spoke. “Kept the biter from my neck, though.”

Ram scanned the ground. “Did you get it?” “Yeah, C-4 is safe and sound right over by that pillar,” she said, jerking her head at a spot behind her. “What about you? Poseidon come through?”

“Guess we’ll find out soon.” He walked around her to the far pillar and knelt in the sand beside a large black duffel bag. It was already unzipped, so he flicked the flap open. He riffled through the contents, counting out the blocks of C-4 and the remote detonators. Almost everything was accounted for. Sand crunched softly as Jimena stopped beside him. “I already grabbed the firing switch if that’s what you are looking for.”

“Good,” he said, standing and pulling the shoulder strap of the bag across his chest, “no sense stalling any longer then.” He strode purposefully up to the edge of the water line. A wave broke on the sand a few feet ahead of him and spread up the bank until it licked his toes. The sensation sent a shiver up his legs.

“Ramjet.” His name tugged his gaze around to her. She walked up to stand an arm’s length away. She didn’t look at him, but her voice was serious for the first time since they’d met a few weeks ago. “I saw an article about this pier a few years back. I remembered it because the boy’s face in the picture under the title was so striking.” Ram bowed his head and clamped his eyes shut. “The kid looked so happy, so alive, but the article said he’d killed himself, that he jumped off the pier, this pier. He didn’t know how to swim.” A traitorous tear left a damp track down Ram’s right cheek. “It struck me hard cause I didn’t know how a kid like that could want to kill himself, ya know. Like, what in his life was so bad? It was just like--just like my sister. I never understood why she...”

Ram opened his eyes and looked up. Jimena had turned to him, lashes glistening with tears. “Sometimes--” His voice cracked, so he coughed and tried again. “Sometimes ain’t nothin wrong. Sometimes people just get sad and they don’t know how to stop. They can only see one way out.” The rest of his words died in his throat, and he didn’t try to force them again.

Jimena wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I never forgot that kid’s face. I recognized it immediately when I saw your screen saver. Are you sure you can do this?”

She knew more than he expected her to, but she didn’t know, couldn’t know, that it was all Ram’s fault. No one else had ever understood why he blamed himself. “I can do this. I have to do this.”

He moved forward before she could say any more, before she could make any more memories come back. The waves crashed against his knees, soaking the bottoms of his shorts. Under the pier, where the supports took the brunt of the waves, the water wasn’t as wild as everywhere else along the beach. Hopefully that helped. He spoke the phrase aloud just as

Poseidon had told him to say it. Honestly, he still wasn’t sure if the phrase was a joke or not, but it worked all the same.

Jimena called to him over the surf. “Did you just say what I think you said?” He scowled as the water in front of him calmed and seemed to solidify. Tentatively, he placed a foot on it and stepped up. Though more solid, the path in the water before him didn’t hold his weight completely above the surface. His feet sunk down into it, like walking in mud or on a very wobbly bridge. His next step threw him off balance. He swung his arms like a windmill to regain his center of gravity. Once his body steadied, he took another step, then another. As long as he kept moving at an even pace, it wasn’t hard to keep his balance.

He sloshed through the water underneath the pier, doing his best to splash quietly. Only a few feet from the shore, the air in front of him shimmered like a heat haze. His eyes caught a green glow up near the top of the support beams. Squinting, he could just discern lines of glowing glyphs stamped into the wood of the pier. Hades’ wards were active. Could he pass through them? He didn’t stop as he drew near the nearly invisible barrier, but he did wince involuntarily as he passed through the wall of energy. Static crackled across his skin, but nothing stopped him. He threw one quick glance over his shoulder at the wards as he continued on his way along the pier.

Planks creaked above him as Hades’ attendants milled about, but he focused on simply keeping his balance. As he neared the supports underneath Ruby’s Diner, Ram happened to glance down into the dark depths. Dizziness overcame him as his heart stuttered. He imagined the weeds and debri below him, reaching up from the sandy ocean floor. Logic told him that the water here wasn’t yet hundreds of feet deep, that it was only twenty feet to the bottom, but the animal part of his brain didn’t care. He wavered in his footing and braced himself against a nearby support. If Poseidon’s power failed him now, if the blessing wore off, he would immediately plunge into the dark abyss. Closing his eyes, he brought the memory of his son’s face to his mind and forced himself to breath deep and slow. For Grayson he thought. He refused to fail his son again.

With his eyes still closed, Ram reached back and dug in the duffle for one of the soft, explosive bricks. He opened his eyes as he pulled the C-4 out and stuck in to the support beside him. It was almost unnoticeable in the gloom beneath the deck, just a slight discoloration against the wet wood. He fumbled in the bag again for a detonator and carefully inserted its wires into the soft clay. A small red light started blinking slowly when he switched it on. It was much more noticeable now, but not for long.

With a forced focus, he wobbled his way from pillar to pillar, placing each brick and receiver in a ring below the diner. He didn’t have enough C-4 for all of the supports, but that wouldn’t matter when the concussive force rolled out from the detonation points. He set the last explosive and carefully pulled out his phone.

They are set. Jimena’s reply came back immediately: Good job. Now back here. I have something I need to do. Don’t hit that switch until I give you the signal. What signal? You’ll know it when you see it. Goodbye, Jimena.

He closed the text window and took a long look at his son’s face as it peeked out from behind the apps on his phone. A tremble shook his hand, but he steadied it then slowly opened his fingers. The phone slipped out of his hand. It made a soft splash as it sank into the water. Ram took a shuddering breath and began trudging wearily out past the end of the pier.

Even from below, he recognized his bench. He couldn’t see it, but he knew exactly where it would be. The shadows of the pier pulled away from him as he shuffled out into open waters. The police had shown him where his son jumped off the pier. He could never forget the spot, never. His lip trembled, but he kept going. About fifty feet from the pier, he stopped and turned back, wobbling only a little this time.

Poseidon had told him a lot about wielding godly power and about how it would need to be manipulated to get past Hades’ wards. It was about more than just keeping Ram dry; it was about closure. At least, that was how Ram saw it. He cleared his throat. When he spoke, Poseidon’s power amplified his voice, casting it effortlessly over the empty waters.

“Hades, Lord of the Underworld. Show yourself!” A chorus of screams and bellows echoed from the deck surrounding Ruby’s Diner. Ram gulped, but kept watching. A door opened, and, a moment later, a figure appeared at the end of the walkway, very near Ram’s bench. Hades buttoned his suit coat, smoothed his hair, and leaned casually against the railing. The god could have been mistaken for a businessman if it weren’t for the gray, death-like pallor of his skin. His mouth turned up in a half smile when he saw Ram standing on the water.

“Does my brother really think he can get past my wards this way?” Hades didn’t wait for Ram to answer. “Not that a human could capture me even with a god’s blessing. You know I am the Lord of death, right? You can’t hope to escape this.”

“The Lord of the dead should take his responsibilities more seriously than this.” Ram swept his arms wide. “Hell has been loosed because of you.”

Hades chuckled, running a hand through his hair again. “They wanted a relaxing vacation. The beach really does wonders for their complexion.”

“You are going to pay.” He said the words quietly, but Hades heard them anyway. The god’s face fell into a frown as he straightened. “For what?” “For ruining my favorite ice cream shop.” Ram swallowed. Poseidon knew that even a human imbued with a god’s power would trip the wards around the pier; however, wards only detected a god’s full power. Ram hadn’t been using the full power, not yet. He looked into Hades’ eyes. “By my blackness, release the waters!”

Poseidon’s power engulfed Ram in force. Columns of water erupted into the sky around him. A series of explosions thumped in the air as the supports beneath the diner were torn apart in balls of flame. The water columns converged in front of Ram, blocking the concussive force from the C-4. Hades’ wards broke as the entire diner collapsed into the ocean. Ram heard a scream of rage as he felt Poseidon’s waters encircle Hades and drag the rogue god into the depths. Ram severed his connection with Poseidon and felt himself slip beneath the waves. He smiled, ready for what came next, but an intense pressure seized him, dragging him through the water. His face broke the surface and his feet found purchase on something solid.

A watery voice whispered in his ear, “You might want this.”

He heard a clunk and opened his eyes. He was standing at the edge of the shattered boardwalk. With a sigh, he glanced down only to find his phone laying at his feet, his son’s face smiling up at him from the lock screen.

[arieswritez]

mark 'yes ma'am' grayson 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗