#tim and babs do a lot of the heavy lifting

[praetoring]

batfam crack au where, as jason is re-integrating himself back into the fam both in civ and vigilante life, instead of giving some made up cover story as to how jason is suddenly alive again, the kids decide to simply gaslight the world.

maybe it starts as an accident - tim accidentally mentions his brother jason (whom he's getting along better with) to bernard in passing, and when bernard starts to ask questions about jason ("cause isn't he dead? he's the brother you never met") tim panics and lies.

"what no of course not he's just been living away for his mental health and to go to school." bernard isn't convinced, but considering it's easier to lie than explain how jason died and came back to life, tim just full sends it.

fast forward to later that evening where tim awkwardly explains to the rest of the batfam (sans bruce) how he accidentally gaslit his boyfriend into thinking his brother has been alive the whole time. jason thinks it's hilarious for the record

but it spirals into "what if we just go with that?" never mind that bruce had been working on a statement to release in a weeks time announcing jason's return - with cover story about how they thought he was dead but no, he was kidnapped - the siblings decide to take matters into their own hands.

the wayne brood decide to gaslight the world into thinking jason has been alive with them the whole time.

[dcfanfictioncatalogue]

barbara gordon MAR 2024 fic awards

"somewhat consistently" man is that somewhat doing some heavy lifting. anyway this is cherry's fic awards where I read EVERY fic in a character's tag from EACH month and give you my favorites. because I am a good samaritan and babs has literally no good fic collections. lot of batgirl babs this time around!

One Bad Joke, by RobberBaroness. 700, T, gen. summary: “Look on the bright side, Barbara," said the Joker over the bloody pictures of Jim Gordon, "you’re only down one daddy! You’ve still got dear old Batsy!” my notes: a reverse killing joke!!! I genuinely love this concept so much. as much as I love oracle babs, the way it was done was unilaterally terrible and I think this was a really interested concept exploration

&&

Hot Chocolate and Fruitcake, by HermesDay. 6k, G, dickbabs, 2/2. summary: "Immaculate conception," Tim replied. "Fact: the Virgin Mary was an amoeba." my notes: I've already recced this one, but this month was the second chapter posting!! I love the way this fic concluded and I'm SUCH a nitpicker over coming out scenes and these are really good imo !!

&&

What can be done?, by Jezebunny (@jzbnee). 1.8k, T, gen. summary: Barbara needs to get away and change, she thinks. Hiding with the rest of the representatives is not the most useful thing she can do here. She joins the crowd as they filter towards the doorway.  my notes: animal man is here! this is a fun little take on a pre-&post-crisis fusion of babsgirl and I like her characterization here

&&

Cuckoo Bird, by batling_out_of_hell. 6.9k, M, gen, graphic depictions of violence. summary: Three fights. She only had three chances to fight Batman and complete her mission. my notes: you may be asking why a cass fic is on this list, and that is because of chapter 2, oracle rising, which FUCKS HARD. it's BRILLIANT babs characterization and worth reading even just for that reason.

&&

you asked if i was feeling it / i'm psycho high, by antebunny (@antebunny). 24k, G, gen, 3/3. summary: These days, Barbara mostly just runs off imposter syndrome and a lot of audacity. my notes: I'm not usually a huge fan of fanon based fics but this is a 24k babs pov fic with solid babsgirl characterization and a fun and engaging plotline -- so I obviously read all of it in one sitting. it was an entertaining read that is super worth checking out !!!

ask box is open for requests ++ find my fic rec libraries organized here

[stephaniebrownthespoiler]

i hate that modern batfam comics have them feel so sanitized and their problems seem a lot less nuanced and they don't really argue in the same way they used to

like in older comics the reason they were arguing always stemmed from the fact that they were a family and now it feels more like they are arguing despite it which is very different actually and they function too much like a cohesive unit

take gotham war and bruce wayne murderer

both feature a sort of divide in the batfam caused by Bruce acting violently in bruce wayne murderer the batfam divide feels a lot more real and individualized:

Tim and Babs are less believing of Bruce they default to their detective skills and try and stay objective Babs especially is constantly reminding everyone that there is a chance Bruce did do the murder but despite being more sceptical they do most of the heavy lifting in finding proof that he was innocent while still being critical of Bruce and expressing annoyance with him for not letting them help and they don't actually want him to be guilty

On the other hand you Dick and Cass who really don't want to believe that Bruce would betray his ideals like this and come into conflict with Tim and Babs due to this difference in perspective more specifically Tim and Dick and Dick and Babs argue about it several times but they are both also frustrated with Bruce and do have to question their stances

all major bats who knew Bruce's identity had a part to play with even Alfred and Leslie being given unique individual views on the situation (believing he's innocent and could be possibly guilty respectively)

then in gotham war you have a brief scene of some of the bats complaining about Bruce and then they all fight him later with the exception of Damian for no real reason and the story doesn't really seem to care

it's just boring and lazy and the pull of batfam is that these are emotionally fucked up people who are a family and they aren't a healthy one but their family none the less and it was nuanced and interesting

and now they're just like slightly emotionally constipated or something

when i say that modern batfam are too nice to each other in modern comics I am not saying that batfam were always terrible and hated each other in older comics what i mean is that were messy their relationships and way of doing things were messy and toxic and the thing that made them stand out back them was that they were toxic and co-dependent but yet there was never any actual question on whether they love eachother... because of course they do how could they not

[camsthisky]

"you’re not alone . you’re stuck with me forever . sorry . ” + Jason and Dick (and anyone other family member)?

“Everyone okay?” Dick croaks as the dust and rubble settles around them. He’s lying on his back, kept still by something pinning his legs down. He doesn’t dare assess himself quite yet. “Hood? Batgirl?”

“Okay,” Cass says, and Dick watches as she stumbles over to him, looking dusty, but relatively alright. She kneels next to him with a frown. She meets his eyes—well, relatively since they’re both wearing masks—and asks, “Okay?”

Dick grimaces. “Not really.” Louder, he calls, “Red Hood?!”

“Here, here,” Jason says, coughing into his fist. He’s missing his helmet and there’s a gash sluggishly bleeding from his right cheek, smearing a trail of blood down his face. He’s also limping, but only slightly.

“Can you move?” Cass asks Dick as Jason pulls out his flashlight.

Dick winces at the sudden light, his mask having already automatically switched to night vision. He huffs. “Jay. Off.”

“Names.”

Dick scowls. “The light.”

“Deal with it,” Jason snaps. “My night vision isn’t working.”

Dick turns off his own night vision feature, if only to not be blinded by the damn flashlight if it passes over his eyes again.

That’s when Jason’s flashlight lands on where Dick is pinned.

“Crap,” Jason breathes.

“Can you move them?” Cass asks, sounding a touch more impatient, and Dick realizes that Cass has already asked once. “Your legs.”

“No,” says Dick, just barely trying. He’s tired, but he knows that time is up. He can’t get away with ignoring his own situation any longer. Probably shouldn’t have even waited this long. His legs are tingling from lack of blood flow, mixing with a sharp pain shooting through them both. Still he’s lucky, because—“I can still feel them, though.”

“We’ll lift,” Jason says to Cass, who nods. Dick closes his eyes and braces himself for the inevitable pain of rubble being lifted off his crushed legs.

“Hhh.”

The sounds he makes is nothing more than an agonized hissed through his teeth, and Dick can’t help the cold sweat that sweeps across his body in a slow wave as his siblings manage to move the slab of—wall, maybe? who knows, really—from where it’s crushing his poor legs.

Something taps against his shinbone and then his kneecap.

“Stop, stop, I feel it,” Dick gasps, bringing his legs up in a protective curl as pain throbs through most of his lower body. His left hip hurts like hell, and his every muscle, bone, and tendon feels like they’ve been squeezed and then flattened like a pancake. He rolls over onto his side so he can bring his knees up to his chest, to wait out the lingering intensity of the pain.

“Breathe,” Cass says.

Dick breathes.

He closes his eyes and blocks out everything and, again, just breathes. His siblings let him.

When he has a better grasp on his agony, Dick finally relaxes. The world filters back in. Cass is running fingers through Dick’s dusty hair (something she one hundred percent learned from Bruce, because only a select few know how much the motion tends to calm him down).

On the other hand, Dick blinks his eyes open to find Jason agitatedly pacing.

“The hell?” Jason murmurs, his flashlight whipping back and forth with his movements as he surveys their surroundings. “Did we get completely sealed in?”

Dick wishes desperately he would stop. Even without night vision, Jason’s impromptu strobe light effect is causing Dick’s head to ache. Instead of saying this, he hums contemplatively. “Wonder if there’s a signal this far down.”

Jason huffs, not slowing in the least. He’s searching for something, and dear god does Dick want him to find it already. “You’re the one with the comms in your ear. You try it.”

They’re in the sewers, is the thing. And while Bruce and Babs have designed the comms system to work incredibly well, even in the sewers, the signal still needs to be able to make it to the system in order to be functional.

With the three of them sealed in this place, seemingly with no way out, pretty deep in the sewer system where they had been disabling bombs throughout the city, Dick isn’t optimistic about their chances of getting a signal.

(They’d just been a few seconds too late for that last bomb, which unfortunately led them to their current circumstances.)

While Jason grumbles, Cass activates her emergency signal and the comms. She calls out, “Batman? Oracle?”

Jason shuts up for the five seconds before Cass looks between both Dick and Jason and shakes her head.

Dick lets out a slow exhale through his nose. He hadn’t really held out much hope for that anyways.

Jason groans. “Holy batcannoli, I can’t believe we’re stuck down here. And where’s my hecking helmet?!”

Cass helpfully points to the rubble sealing them in. Jason kicks a rock with a yell. Dick sighs.

“Well, at least you’re not alone down here,” Dick says as optimistically as he can—although, given the circumstances, it does fall a little flat.

Jason snorts. “Right. Sure, Batgirl is an asset, but you’re a sack of bruised bones right now. That’s not helpful in the slightest, Dickface.”

Dick’s eyelashes flutter of their own accord. He hums. “Too bad. Looks like you’re stuck with me. Sorry.”

“Dick,” Cass says, her fingers tracing lightly over his face. “Stay awake.”

“I am awake.”

“You’re starting to—” Cass pauses. Dick can’t see the look on her face, because somehow, his eyes have fully closed without his permission, and he can’t seem to find the strength to open them again. “—to slur.”

The sounds of Jason’s pacing stop. Silence rings loud in their sealed section of the sewers. Then, “Did he hit his head?”

“Not sure,” Cass answers.

“Dick,” Jason says, sounding quite a bit closer, like he’s maybe crouching down next to Cass or something—but Dick hadn’t heard him move, and Jason’s boots are too clunky to not make sound against the concrete. “Dick, did you hit your head?”

Dick’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t remember hitting his head. The only thing he clearly remembers about the blast is heavy pieces of rubble crushing his legs. “Maybe?”

“Great,” Jason says. He’s pulling out his I’m-rolling-my-eyes-at-your-ridiculous-incompetency voice. “So my bruised bones of a big brother probably also has a concussion. Just great.”

“It’s not his fault he’s injured,” Cass tells Jason. “He was disarming the bomb.”

Which means Dick took the brunt of the blast when it was remotely activated.

Dick really means to tack onto Cass’s statement, maybe tease Jason a little and try to reassure both his younger siblings that not everything is hopeless, because he’s the best big brother ever, of course.

Only, he can’t find the strength to open his mouth and talk. Instead, the voices around him become watery, distorted, and Dick’s head flares in pain.

When unconsciousness comes to take him, he doesn’t resist.

—

“—manage to even find us in the first place?” is the first thing Dick hears as he swims back to consciousness. Jason almost sounds relieved.

“The seismic device didn’t just affect the sewers,” someone replies. It takes a lot of effort for Dick to recognize it as Tim. “A couple buildings partially collapsed, and since we knew the three of you were down here, it was a good starting point to look when none of you would answer the comms.”

“Huh,” is all Jason says.

“Nightwing,” Bruce says, startling Dick from the dazed lull he’d been in as he listened to his brothers talking. He opens his eyes, blinking up bewilderingly at what he can see of Bruce’s face behind the cowl.

“B?” Dick murmurs. He doesn’t move, yet, from where’s curled on his side, but he feels an abortive twitch of his fingers at the reassuring sight of Batman. “‘S goin’ on?”

“What do you remember?”

Right. Bruce did not give easy answers. Life is a series of puzzles, Dick Grayson, fueled by none other than Bruce Wayne himself.

Dick frowns and casts his mind back. “The wall blew up,” he decides. “I got hurt?”

He’s only half sure about that last one, but considering his position on the ground, the throbbing in his head and hip, and Bruce’s concerned dad frown that’s taking over his Batman grimace, Dick thinks that he’s probably on the right track.

“Concussion,” Cass says, startling Dick when she pops her head over Bruce’s shoulder. “Also, ‘a sack of bruised bones.’”

That—sounds familiar. He thinks he remembers Jason saying something like that.

Bruce’s frown gets deeper. “Straighten your legs.”

“Please,” Dick tacks on for Bruce when he lacks the manners to be nice, basically on instinct at this point, even as he—slowly, and with a great deal of agony—does what Bruce tells him to do.

They go through a couple more tests, until finally Bruce, unhappy, deems, “We need to move you.”

Dick blinks when Bruce turns away to murmur something to one of the others. A conversation washes over him, and Dick can’t help but let himself tune it out. The noise settles as vague humming—indistinct and comforting.

“—two, three,” Bruce says as Dick’s entire vision goes white.

He only manages to come back to himself in increments.

There are arms holding him tight. Familiar murmurs in his ear. The comforting sound of Batman’s heavy cape brushing against concrete.

“—there, Chum,” Bruce is saying, and if Dick had the capability, he would have teased Bruce for pulling out both the concerned dad frown and the concerned dad voice in one night.

As it is, the only thing that comes out of his mouth when he opens it are harsh pants for air. Every step jostles him, and agony is his constant companion throughout the entire journey to the surface.

Somehow, Dick is still conscious when he’s laid down in the backseat of the batmobile. He’s grateful he’s not moving anymore, and carefully doesn’t think of the upcoming ride back to the Cave.

He only really starts to relax when Bruce settles the cape over him. Wrapped up inside it, Dick almost feels like he’s ten years old again. Batman’s has always felt like warmth and protection and home. This time is no different.

“Batgirl and Robin, keep Nightwing as still as possible. Red Hood, in the front. Start updating Oracle.”

“Why do they—”

“You’re too bulky, Hood. Me and Batgirl are smaller than you. It’s still going to be a tight fit, but it’s the most comfortable for everyone this way.”

“Whatever.”

“Enough. Car. Now.”

There’s lots of careful but hurried scrambling. Dick thinks he passes out a few times on the way back. He doesn’t remember much, either. Just bits and snatches here and there—His siblings talking to him, Bruce giving orders, Jason being snappy and unwittingly dragging Tim into an argument.

And then—he wakes up. A lot more clear-headed than he’d felt the last time he’d been conscious (though, that wasn’t saying much).

To Dick’s surprise, he’s on his side again, dressed in sweats with a pillow between his legs. He opens his eyes to the Wayne Manor living room, and—yes, he’s on the couch. The curtains are drawn, but it’s clearly sometime past sunrise.

Bruce is sitting cross-legged in front of him, reading a book.

“Bruce?” Dick calls, his voice still somewhat slurred. “Why’m I on the couch?”

“You started crying when I said you had to stay in the infirmary,” Bruce tells him, grabbing a bookmark and setting his book off to the side.

Dick frowns. He doesn’t remember that. Still, he manages to say, “You’re such a pushover.”

“How do you feel?”

Dick blinks a dozen times in a row, trying to assess his body and keep up with the change in subject. “Kinda woozy. My hip hurts a lot.”

“Hn.”

“Think I need to brush up on my Bat speak,” Dick murmurs. “Dunno what that one meant.”

Bruce hums again. “You’re incredibly lucky. We’ll need to be careful for the next few weeks.”

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?”

“Crush injuries to your legs and left hip. Not overly severe, and we managed to stabilize you once we realized you were in shock.”

Dick thinks about that for a second. “Concussion? I’m pretty sure I remember something about a concussion.”

“It’s mild,” Bruce tells him. “It was the shock that was the real problem.”

“Oh.” Dick sighs into the pillow under his head. “I’m tired.”

Bruce gives him a soft smile, just slight enough that if Dick hadn’t been so familiar with Bruce’s microexpressions, he would have thought he’d been mistaken. Fingers lightly card through his hair, and Dick’s eyes start closing of their own accord.

“Then sleep,” Bruce says.

Dick sleeps.

[alecmagnuslwb]

Giving Home a Heartbeat - @doubleredweek Day 7

Read on AO3

Jason’s pretty sure that somewhere underneath all these boxes is the house they bought, he’s just not quite sure where.

“Jay Jay, Daddy stopped picking up boxes and sat down, so I’m picking up the slack!” Lian shouts over the distinct scraping sound of cardboard. Jason turns and there she is walking backwards her tiny hands pulling a box along that’s practically the same size as her not even breaking a sweat. Sometimes Jason thinks they really need to ask Jade about any superhuman abilities she might be hiding that could have been passed down.

Jason shakes his head and walks over to her lifting the box and sitting it over with the rest of the living room Jenga stack of cardboard boxes that is their life.

“Good work princess,” Jason says ruffling her hair as she sidles up next to him looking at all the boxes with a much more gleeful look on her face than the one he’s sporting.

“I am not slacking,” Roy shouts with a struggling groan. Jason turns back to the door watching as Roy takes a step through with three heavy boxes precariously stacked on top of one another in his arms blockading Roy’s body almost entirely from view. Jason rushes over to his side taking the highest one revealing Roy’s head his messy hair dripping with sweat and poking out wildly from underneath his backwards cap.

“These are the last ones and I just didn’t want to make numerous trips,” he grunts shifting the boxes in his arms. “Dick and Babs are taking the truck back and sweetly said they will not be coming back to help us unpack.” Jason rolls his eyes eight siblings, one younger than them aunt, two pseudo sisters-in-laws, a literal space traveling brother-in-law, three parental figures and one grandfatherly figure between the two of them and not one of them stuck around long enough to put all these boxes through the front door.

“We don’t know exactly how you want everything set up,” Connor had justified as he and Kyle started floating up into the sky and away as soon as the truck was full as if Jason, Roy and especially Lian wouldn’t happily boss them around with instructions of where to place things.

Stephanie, Tim and Damian even had the audacity to eat half the moving day pizza on their own, pick up one box together and then disappear. Teamwork Steph had called it before high fiving Roy and running after her boyfriend. Chaotic bisexuals Roy had sighed as they sped away on her motorcycle Damian already long gone slipping off like a silent shadow in the mid-day.

At least Roy and Jason hadn’t had to pay for the pizza they got one shared slice of, after twenty minutes of arguing about who should pay Oliver and Bruce had settled on splitting. Though knowing Bruce Jason would bet he added on a bigger tip when Ollie’s back was turned just to spite him.

“Do you think the Aqua Family treat each other this way?” Jason says watching as Lian tosses a small box up on the still covered in plastic couch and starts tearing at the tape.

“I bet they swim across the seven seas and happily move their family’s underwater décor without complaint,” Roy says as he slips behind Jason resting his chin on Jason’s shoulder. Together they survey the room with the knowledge that every other room in the house looks much the same, a labyrinth of boxes. It’s gonna take them weeks to unpack all the stuff from the workshop alone.

“I know we don’t know her as well as my dad and Bruce, but do you think if we put in a call to Zatanna she’d just,” Roy says flicking his hands around Jason’s waist in a pale comparison to the intricate patterns Jason’s seen her do in battle. “Ya know, poof and we’re unpacked.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” Jason sighs. Lian has fully opened the box now pulling out item after item that definitely all belong in the kitchen not on their living room couch.

Roy faux cries burying his face in Jason’s neck sadly. Jason reaches up a hand only slightly condescendingly patting at Roy’s head.

“Alright, we gotta start somewhere. Lian’s room is the priority, you and I have slept on far more uncomfortable things than a plastic wrapped couch,” he says, they’ve already got a start in there anyways thanks to Alfred the only member of their families who’s not an ingrate setting up her pink and green matching bed, bookshelf, desk and wall shelves without even being asked. Jason survey’s the room eyes falling over to the kitchen. “I’d say we shoot for finishing the kitchen tonight too, but we can always just order takeout again.”

“More pizza!” Lian squeals in delight twirling a bundle of measuring cups around and around in one hand.

“No, we’ll get something else,” Roy says and Lian’s face drops just a little. “Something with lots of vegetables, like Thai maybe.” She perks back up at that.

“As long as I don’t have to eat peas,” she grumbles trading the measuring cups out for a ladle she taps delightedly on the boxes flap.

“Fine, no peas,” Jason says slipping away from Roy and grabbing the box Lian has been playing around with as she shouts triumphantly about the lack of peas in her future. He tosses the things she’s taken out of the box back in and slides it onto the kitchen counter to deal with later.

“Go to your room and start unpacking the boxes labeled books first okay,” Roy says lifting her up from the couch her legs sticking to the plastic as he does and settling her feet on the ground. “Put some on the lower shelves, but don’t try to reach the high shelves without Jay or I’s help okay?”

Lian nods furiously skittering off clapping her hands in joy, her light up Scooby Doo shoes going wild with every step.

“Promise, Daddy!” she shouts as she hightails it up the stairs and turns the corner sharply. A light thud earns their attention as soon as she disappears from sight followed by silence.

“Lian?” Jason shouts after her already braced to rush the stairs if she doesn’t respond instantly. Roy does the same.

“I’m okay, I just kicked a box over!” she shouts back and they both breathe a sigh of relief. “And it knocked over two more!” she says with utter delight causing them both to chuckle.

“If we want to get this house done before she’s out of high school, we’re gonna need to send her for an archery range day with grandpa tomorrow,” Roy says walking over to Jason. He hops up onto the kitchen island kicking his feet out back and forth.

“And maybe an ice cream day with aunt Emiko the day after that, just in case,” Jason adds on as he settles himself between Roy’s dangling legs his back to Roy’s front. Roy wraps his arms back around him, placing his chin back where it had been in the living room.

They both gaze out across the rooms, across their home, across what it will be in a few days’ time. Jason never thought he’d call Star City home, hell he never thought he’d get out of the Narrows, but here he is a homeowner with a man he fully intends to keep for the rest of his life and a little girl he considers his daughter.

“It’s gonna look great when it’s all set up,” Roy says nuzzling his face softly to Jason’s temple. “The perfect mix of superhero chic and parents of a five-year-old who only occasionally cleans up after herself.”

“An interior designers dream,” Jason chuckles leaning back further into Roy’s arms.

“Jade’s gonna hate it,” Roy laughs.

“Oh god, I’ll fly Alfred out to help me clean just to be sure it’s spotless when the time comes. When does she get back from South America?”

“The fourteenth, she’s taking Lian for the week, remember?” Roy says pressing a quick kiss to Jason’s jaw. The fourteenth, that’s plenty of time to make it look it’s best to at least cut her sly judgements in half.

They’re quiet for a while comfortably listening to the rustling sound of Lian tearing tape off of boxes above them. She’s probably gonna be wrapped in it by the time they get up here.

“We own a house,” Jason says breaking the comfortable quiet still stunned by the fact they’ve made it here. Six years ago he walked away from Roy, the worst mistake he’s ever made, and somehow impossibly when he came crawling back Roy welcomed him with open arms and now they’re here. It feels almost too good to be true.

Roy nods and Jason can feel his smile against his neck.

“Your stuck with me now Jaybird,” he chuckles and Jason pulls Roy’s arms around him tighter, happily stuck. They bask in each other’s arms a little longer when the sound of tape gets louder and more prominent followed by a giggle and comical ‘oops’ from Lian.

“We better go help her before she mummifies herself in packing tape,” Roy chuckles slipping out from behind Jason and making his way to the stairs taking them two at a time. Jason hangs back for a moment just looking one last time at the space in front of him, looking at their home before following the sounds of tape being unwrapped from clothes and the laughter of the two most important people in his world.

[outoftheframework]

the batfamily, but they’re all stuck in the manor

Stay safe people, and stay inside! (this post is based off of the current situation, but avoids heavy details as to keep the atmosphere light. it is meant to cheer up; I hope that’s okay).

_______

- The table is full for the first time in years. So much so that Damian is forced to sit on an extra stool at one corner of the table between Duke and Alfred. It doers not help that they are both left handed.

- Alfred, though always plenty prepared, has to break into the preserves jarred by Martha Wayne herself, because all the kids don’t know the proper amount of jelly to put on their toast or bagels every morning.

-Jason is extremely out of his element, as he hasn’t stayed in the manor for an extended amount of time since his childhood. In the beginning, he spends most of his time alone or with Tim, until he begins to loosen up more after forming a book club of sorts with Duke. 

-Tim finds an old analog camera while (finally) tidying up his room. He messes with it for a while to remind himself of its intricacies, then begins to carry it around the manor. He captures little moments, like when Damian falls asleep on the library’s floor with his face in a book, or when Cass’ face lights up while watching “The Little Mermaid” for the very first time. 

-The kids facetime with Barbara and Stephanie so much, it’s like they’re practically living in the manor. Dick and Babs once both fell asleep while talking to each other and resumed talking when they woke up in the morning.

-The kids take over Bruce’s twitter and pay off some of his followers’ student loan fees. Bruce finds out later and is only bothered because he thought they didn’t give as much as they could have. They all continue the next day.

-Dick and Jason try to give Alfred the night off and cook dinner for everyone. Jason ended up doing most of the heavy lifting, but they did manage to produce some killer quesadillas with minimal fire damage.

-Damian experienced his first full family game night, with scrabble, sugary sodas, staying up too late, and a lot of screaming. He schedules a date for the next one; attendance is mandatory.

-Prolonged boredom leads to events such as hide and seek tag with all the lights turned off, mattress slides down the grand staircase, waxing the hallway floors and seeing who can slide across them the fastest, and gigantic blanket forts spanning multiple rooms.

-Dami draws pages upon pages out outlined drawings for the other family members to finish like make-shift coloring books. He collects them all after they’re finished.

-Cass gives all the boys haircuts. She can only really do one style (shorter sides and longer on top), but really enjoys shaving patterns onto the backs/sides of their heads. Dick got a lightning bolt and immediately facetimed Wally to show it off. 

-Duke turns out to be amazing at just about any card game, and cleans up at the family “gambling” night. His bounty includes: 24 jellybeans, a carton’s worth of goldfish crackers, 2 batarangs, $8 in spare change, and one left shoe.

-Bruce thinks it’s nice to have all his kids under one roof again until they all climb out onto the roof and start doing handstands, effectively shaving five (5) years off of his life. 

Hope you all are staying happy and healthy during this time. I’m here to make y’all happy, so please send requests if you have any! I’m also pretty much always open to work with artists on commissioned pieces, so msg me if you’re interested in making some art!

[lala-ladybug]

Healing Hands: Chapter 3

Happy finals week, ugh. As always, reblogs are appreciated!!

Jasonette Sword Art Online AU

Read here on AO3

Tag list: @iloontjeboontje

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Chapter 3: Well shit Babs, maybe I like ponies

Marinette sat on a rock and paddled her bare feet in the water. It was a beautiful day, the sun was warming the top of her loose, dark hair and the ocean in front of her stretched for miles and miles.

A noise disturbed her peaceful moment. A distant cry, probably a seagull.

She sighed and leaned back on her hands to breathe in the smell of--

Marinette choked. Why was there smoke in the air?

The cries grew louder as she looked back at the water before her. She started when she saw that they came from her friends, who were in the now-tumultuous water, trying to keep themselves afloat. They were only a few yards away, she could make it if she just--

A force around her waist tugged her hard as she leapt to her feet. Her face collided with the concrete beneath her-- the top of a building, she realized. If the water level was up this high, then....

From where she lay, she could see directly down into the water. It was no longer clear, but a deep crimson. There were dozens of figures scattered about, some still struggling and some motionless. She scrambled to get up as her eyes snapped to Alya’s hand disappearing below the waves.

That damn force jerked her to the other side of the building, farther from her friends.

“No!” Marinette cried out desperately. The force released her and she whirled to find her attacker.

A flash of red caught her eye, and--

Oh.

It was Ladybug.

Marinette shook her head, not understanding. If that was Ladybug, then.... No, it couldn’t be Ladybug, because she was Ladybug. She fumbled for her earrings, but felt nothing.

Ladybug stalked deliberately up to Marinette and pushed her to the ground. Marinette landed on her hands and knees, both of which were now shaking.

“Look at them,” it was her own voice that spat so harshly from Ladybug’s lips. “Look at them.” She grabbed Marinette’s hair from behind and forced her head up.

Marinette could now see Adrien, Kagami, Luka, and Chloe in the ocean in front of her. Their lifeless faces floated just below the surface, the bloodied water doing nothing to conceal their frozen expressions of terror.

Marinette sobbed and closed her eyes. Ladybug pulled sharply on her hair again, and looked into Marinette’s eyes.

“Look at them. Don’t you dare take your eyes off the mess you’ve made. You will never be able to save them all,” Ladybug’s eyes, her eyes, blazed with the vehemence of her words. She opened her mouth to speak again, but a loud beeping sound was all that came out.

Marinette gasped and sat up in her bed, the alarm sending her heartbeat into a frenzy. Tikki flew up next to her as she slumped over with a hand over her eyes.

It was just a dream.

Another Kwami must have turned off her alarm because the beeping had stopped, but Marinette could still hear the echoes of her friends’ dying breaths ringing in her ears.

“Marinette... are you okay?” Tikki placed a delicate paw on her chosen’s arm. “We heard you cry out while you were sleeping.”

The girl lifted her head and gave the little god a shaky smile. “It was just a dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tikki floated back down to where the other Kwami were piled on the side of the bed with similarly worried expressions on their faces.

Marinette exhaled a bracing sigh. “Okay.... It was Syren. Or-or Chat Blanc, I’m not really sure.” The Kwami exchanged a look at that. This was not the first time she’d had a nightmare about water. “But Ladybug was there, and she was attacking me.”

Tikki looked especially concerned about that new piece of information. She opened her mouth to say something when Marinette’s phone lit up with a call. The ringtone was Alya’s.

Marinette picked up, trying to control the shaking of her hands. “H-hey girl, what’s up?” Her tone was deceptively cheerful.

“Hey Mari! Just checking to see if you’re awake. Nino and I are ready, he even put on the goggles already!” Marinette instantly relaxed as she heard Alya’s excited voice bubbling out.

“Yeah dudette, they feel really weird. But comfy!” Nino must have leaned over to pitch in.

Marinette shook off the last vestiges of the nightmare with a giggle. “Yeah, it’s kind of tricky to get the headset to fit over your glasses, but you’ll get used to it!”

“Well if you’re not ready yet then you’d better hurry up, girl! The game launches in five minutes.”

Marinette scrambled to check the time. “Oh crap! I gotta go, see you guys soon!” She hung up and rushed to untangle herself from her blankets.

“Good thing you set three alarms, huh?” Tikki followed her down from the loft and watched her brush out her hair.

Marinette stuck her tongue out at the god of creation.

* * *

Red Hood stalked into the Batcave, nearly running Oracle over as she wheeled herself up to her station at the Batcomputer.

“Woah Jaybird, don’t let me get in your way there,” Babs glared at his retreating back. “Asshole,” she muttered to herself.

Jason hurled his helmet onto the floor of the bathroom and began shucking off his suit with far more force than necessary. He started a shower and looked over his new wounds in the mirror. He’d been stupid, so damn stupid, on patrol.

“Red Hood, report in,” Batman’s gravelly voice cut through on his comms. “Hood, you are not to engage alone. What is your location?”

But Jason couldn’t hear him. The only thing he could hear was blood rushing in his ears, but it wasn’t his blood. No, it was the blood of every monstrous, corrupt asshole in this city. And he wanted it to run on the streets.

The Joker had sent thugs out to a meet-up. Well, Red Hood could send them back in a casket. He crouched beside a gargoyle and watched for the arrival of the van he’d tailed. There were only two men. They left the vehicle and waited outside, lighting cigarettes. Too easy.

Red Hood swept down the building, guns never leaving their holsters. He wanted this to hurt. Them or him, he wasn’t sure. But he got his wish as he beat the two men to a pulp. He wasn’t sure how far he’d have gone if not for the arrival of the gang the Joker’s men were supposed to meet with.

They slashed his back with knives. Shallow wounds, easy to manage. By the time Red Hood turned to face them, the others had arrived-- Batman, Nightwing, Robin. And boy were they pissed.

Jason winced as the hot water hit the cuts on his back. He rolled his shoulders and just let the steam ground him. He didn’t kill again, even if every time that green-haired bastard got involved, he went off the rails.

He would get to choose his own path, not the one Bruce wanted for him, but damn well not the one Thalia wanted for him either. This story was his, he reminded himself while gingerly toweling off. Even if he couldn’t look his own reflection in the eye.

He gripped the countertop, staring down as he let his hair drip into the sink. No, he wasn’t feeling desperate enough to see if his eyes were green again.

Damnit, he had to apologize to Babs. He felt calmer now, but he’d been a real dick when he came in. Jason dressed quickly in sweatpants and an old shirt, then padded quietly back to where he knew his sister would be at the computers.

“Hey,” he said, knocking softly when he entered to announce his presence. Barbara didn’t respond for a moment. She was leaning forward in her chair, typing something into one monitor while listening to police chatter, then nodded to herself and sat back.

“Hey.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Robin told me what happened on patrol.”

Jason scowled. “That little tattletale.”

Barbara offered him a reassuring smile. “That little tattletale is the only reason I didn’t hack into your bank account and order a damn pony.”

“Well shit Babs, maybe I like ponies,” Jason snarked back, but his heart wasn’t into it. “Listen... I’m sorry about earlier. If replacement talked to you already, you know what kind of mood I was in, but that’s no excuse.”

Babs turned her chair to face him and held out her hand. He stepped forward and took it, and she said, “We know you’re trying, Jay. Stuff like this? This is who you are. A year ago, you wouldn’t have been caught dead apologizing to me!” She cringed. “Ah, no offense.”

He chuckled. “None taken, it’s about time you started getting in on the undead jokes.” He patted her hand before walking away back to the main space of the cave. “But thank you, it means a lot.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth!” She raised her voice and turned back to face the computer.

Dick and Tim were already waiting in the cave. Tim was fiddling with some beds and what looked like opaque ski goggles. He always fidgeted when he was nervous.

“Hey replacement,” Jason shouted across the room. He noticed Dick bristle, but cut him off before he could get the patented older brother speech. “How much time ‘til the launch?”

Tim’s eyes lit up, and damn him for caring, but Jason just didn’t want them to be afraid of him.

* * *

Connor and Zatanna were washing dishes in the Cave’s kitchen after dinner. Connor heard the distant sound of someone arriving via zeta tube. He let Zatanna know as they finished drying their plates, then followed her to go greet their visitors.

Wally and Artemis staggered into the room, both weighed down by overflowing boxes of equipment.

“Oh thank god, please help me!” Artemis said, spotting Connor. He obliged and easily took the heavy box from her. She rubbed her arms and smiled gratefully as he held it aloft in one hand.

“It must be so handy having him around,” she sighed to Zatanna.

The magician giggled. “It certainly has its perks, but....” She lifted her hands and said clearly, “Flesruoy egnarra.” The contents of the boxes, some assorted cots, VR headsets, and computers, floated up and placed themselves into a neat formation. “A girl can get by by herself.” She gave Artemis a fistbump.

The zeta tube activated and they all looked up to watch it. The AI announced Wondergirl, and Cassie Sandsmark walked out. She looked up from her phone and waved. “Oh hey guys, whatcha doing?”

Wally zoomed around the set-up Zatanna had created. “We’re just setting up to play this new virtual reality game that’s coming out at midnight! What about you?”

“Oh, what a coincidence, I was just--”

Cassie was cut off by the zeta tube activating again. This time it was Bart, carrying Jaime bridal style, and running at full speed. He skidded to a halt, put a very ill-looking Jaime down, and ran a hand through his windswept hair.

“So totally crash! What’s poppin’?” He made finger guns at Connor, Zatanna, and Artemis.

Zatanna started explaining, “Well, like were just telling Cassie, there’s this new video game coming out at midnight and we--”

She was interrupted by the screech of a green pterodactyl swooping in from the zeta tube. It circled once around the high ceilings of the hollowed-out mountain, then landed and shrank into Beast Boy.

“Just a heads up, Arsenal’s right behind me and he’s a little angry-- oh what are you guys doing?”

Connor was getting frustrated now. “We’re trying to get set up for this new video game that’s launching in five minutes, so if you guys wouldn’t mind--”

A small explosion sounded from the door to the exterior of the island. Roy burst in amidst a cloud of dust.

“Hope I’m not late, I lost my phone.” He sounded like he was in a bad mood.

Bart whispered to Connor, “He means he destroyed his phone.”

Roy dusted off his pants, then looked to Wally and Artemis and asked, “The hell are you doing here?”

“AUGH,” Artemis had had enough. “We’re here to play the video game coming out at midnight! If you want to join us, fine, but if you don’t then get out.” She pointed to the zeta tubes.

Garfield tried to placate her. “Sheesh, it’s just a game! No need to get so worked up.”

Jaime gave him an incredulous look. “Weren’t you just throwing a tantrum yesterday about Bart kicking your ass halfway to Bialya in Smash?”

“...Noted.” Garfield answered.

“Well, looks like we’ve got plenty of hands to help get everyone set up. Let’s get to it!” Cassie expertly maneuvered the two teams away from setting off their more explosive members. They distributed headsets and assigned reclining positions without further delay.

* * *

Marinette put the headset on and laid down on her bed.

“Ready to go back?” Tikki asked her.

She gave the little god a grin. “Definitely.”

In the distance, the bells in Notre Dame chimed six times, but Marinette couldn’t hear them. Her mind had gone somewhere far, far away. Somewhere new.

[redrobinfection]

Alfred’s Favorite Barbara

Babs & Alfred || Read on Ao3 || Happy Birthday, Barbara Gordon! ❤

<< A sequel to last year’s “Batgirls’ Favorite Mentor” 

~*~

Barbara leaned forward and spit out the toothpaste Cass had let her use, on one of the many spare toothbrushes Alfred kept in the guest toiletries stockpile, then leaned back in her chair with a sigh and considered her mostly-put-together-again reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Wow, that had certainly been a party of a night, she mused, ruefully lifting a strand of her sleep-mussed auburn locks before deciding that pulling it back in a bun was really the only dignified solution.

Steph and Cass had kept her up all night--not like that was all that much different from her usual schedule, but mani, pedi, facials, horrible (great) superhero movies, and gossip until dawn had worn her out more than she would have expected. Although, the wine that had snuck into the mix right when the mani-pedis were left to dry and the third movie went in might have had something to do with it, she conceded with a smirk at herself in the mirror. It wasn't a bad sort of tired, she admitted as she tucked few stray hairs into her messy bun, but she was more than ready for a day to rest, recover and recharge.

Just after dawn, Alfred had invaded the sanctum of their home theater encampment to invite them up to the kitchen for a hearty breakfast. There he had laid out toast, eggs, bacon, sausage, fruit, juices, teas, coffee, pancakes and even some of the real cake from the night before--a rare breach of protocol from the prim and proper butler that Barbara took as a one-time gesture of affectionate indulgence of their whims--which eventually drew out the other occupants of the house, turning breakfast the morning after into as much of a party as dinner the night before had been.

After that, Alfred had shooed Steph and Cass off to bed and shown Barbara up to her regular guest room where the bed had already been turned down, the pillows fluffed and the blackest of blackout curtains tightly drawn, bless that man. After a few hours of much needed sleep, it was now just past noon, most of the manor's occupants were either still sleeping or out living their daylight personas, and Alfred had offered to drive her back to the Clocktower after she had "freshened up a bit".

Satisfied that she had done as much as she could to make herself decent for the drive of shame, Barbara gathered her things and made her way down the hall to the elevator. Alfred was waiting for her when the doors opened on the civilian garage.

"Ah, Miss Barbara, I take it you're ready to depart?"

"Yes. Thank you for driving me back, Alfred."

"Of course, it's my pleasure."

He led the way toward their several limousines, opened the door to one very special vehicle and began extending and lowering a long ramp. Barbara pressed her lips together to hide a smile as Alfred stepped to one side and let her wheel herself up the shallow incline. He retracted the ramp, closed the door and slid into the driver's seat while she positioned herself in the sleek interior and locked the wheels of her chair.

"Thanks again, Alfred. For everything," Barbara added as they pulled out of the garage. "Last night, this morning...it was all amazing and it must have been so much work--extra work--for you. I really appreciate it."

She saw his eyebrows rise in the rear-view mirror as he replied, "Of course. It was no trouble; I would hardly label hosting a small dinner in honor of and giving accommodations to one of my favorite persons "work". It was a pleasure, Miss Barbara."

She raised an eyebrow in turn. "Oh really? A fairly large dinner, putting up with the mess we all made in the theater afterwards, and putting together a big breakfast in the morning--and driving me back after letting me stay over, even when I'm sure you've got plenty of cleaning up to do? 'Favorite person' huh? If I didn't know better I'd think you were buttering me up for something, Alfred Pennyworth," she teased, sharing a knowing look with him in the mirror.

He didn't laugh out loud, but his eyes twinkled in that way Barbara knew meant he was amused rather than offended. "My word! Is it so hard to believe that an old man would take pleasure in doing what little he could to celebrate the birthday of his favorite Barbara."

Barbara did laugh out loud. "Your favorite...huh! First Jason calls me his favorite, then Tim and Dick, then Steph and Cass... and now you? All of you in less than twenty-four hours? Did you all have a meeting to discuss the topic or am I about to go home to one of the hardest cases of all time and you're all buttering me up to it?"

"I believe the subject had come up recently," Alfred replied evenly. "You do so much for this family and receive so little appreciation..."

"That's my line," Barbara muttered incredulously with a minute shake of her head.

"...and I'll have you know that of all the Barbaras I've had the pleasure of knowing, you most certainly rank supreme."

Barbara huffed a laugh through her nose. "And how many Barbaras is that exactly?"

Alfred met her eyes in the mirror and fixed her with an impressive look. "When you've lived as long as I have, served as long as I have, you come to know a great many people. Among all of those... you are rare soul indeed, Barbara. Surely one to celebrate and to venerate."

That gave her pause. What are you supposed to say to something like that? She didn't know, so she let the silence stretch and turned her gaze to the traffic speeding past her window while her true focus turned to beating down the bloom of color that had flooded her cheeks at Alfred's unexpected pronouncement. 

They rode in silence--not an uncomfortable silence, but Barbara still felt the weight of those words still hanging heavy between them--for the rest of the drive. They'd caught the lull between the lunch-hour jam and afternoon rush-hour traffic--likely a strategic choice on Alfred's part--so it only took about twenty minutes to make the trip into the city. 

Alfred graciously helped her disembark, escorted her to the ground level door to the tower, and--to her surprise--asked to walk her in, pulling a cooler bag from somewhere with leftovers from the revelries. Barbara invited him in, sending him ahead of her with repeated thanks, but the words of appreciation died in her throat as she rolled over the threshold and took in the interior of her homebase. 

She wasn't a slob, per se, but Barbara knew she didn't tidy up around the Tower quite as often as she should, and she cleaned the place even less frequently. It was a lot of real estate for one person--a person with certain mobility issues, at that--and a small army of specially programmed Roombas and some casual dusting here and there could only do so much. 

But today, her foyer was spotless. All the coats, umbrellas and other detritus were neatly hung or stacked in their places. The tile was a shade lighter than she remembered and the grout was actually white--she'd actually thought it was tan up until now. 

Moving into her apartment showed the same story. Shelves of books and knick-knacks were freshly dusted, the rugs had been deeply vaccuumed, and personal items had been put away or neatly arranged. Every surface gleamed.

She turned to Alfred with an accusing look. "Alfred... did you...?" One look at his quietly pleased expression was answer enough. "When did you even find the time to come over here and do this? Did you clean the whole Tower?" She wouldn't doubt it. She didn't bother to ask him how he got into her super-secure, high-tech lair--this is the ex-MI6 agent who raised Bruce, after all--but given the timeline of events, it shouldn't have been possible for him to clean all this by himself and do everything he did for them while she was at the manor. 

"We did, in fact, clean the entire tower--and we took great care not to disturb any of your things in the command center, mind you--but it hardly took any time at all with Masters Damian and Timothy along to help. In fact, we were in and out well before you rose from your nap this morning."

Barbara's eyebrow rose into her hair. Alfred had wrangled Tim and Damian--in the morning, of all times--into cleaning? Together? Without killing each other? 

"Wow, Alfred, you got Tim and Damian to work together to do all of this...? At eight in the morning? You're a miracle worker, for sure. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this.

"Really, Alfred...this--" she gestured to rooms around them "--the party, the sleepover, and then breakfast... you've done so much. Thank you. It means a lot to me, but, really, you didn't need to do all this. It's... it’s too much..." 

Alfred looked away for a moment, his expression uncharacteristically sheepish. "Ah, well. Yes. I admit, I may have gone a bit overboard..."

They entered the kitchen and Barbara came to a complete stop. The appliances shone, the stove was spotless, and, for once, the sink was completely free of dishes. But that wasn't what stopped her dead in her tracks. 

On the polished kitchen table, laid out elegantly on a freshly washed and pressed table cloth that Barbara had forgotten she even owned, was a handsome tea set in lustrous lavender and gold--one pot, saucers, cups, sugar cellar and creamer. To one side sat a few varieties of Alfred's favorite teas, and on the other a plate piled high with Alfred’s signature tea cakes, one of her favorite things about visiting the manor for pre-patrol briefings or post-patrol debriefings, back in the day. A recipe card stuck out under the plate.

Barbara turned to Alfred, her vision going misty. "Alfred..."

Alfred graced her with a rare smile, beaming down at her, his expression fond, but his voice was quiet, "For when you need a break from Master Tim's gift of espresso or a moment of peace after along night."

Barbara broke out into a teary smile of her own and raised her arms, reaching out for a hug before she thought it through. Alfred surprised her yet again, leaning down to accept her embrace. 

"Really, thank you, Alfred. For everything," Barbara murmured into his shoulder before he could pull away again.

He didn't. Instead, he replied, so quietly Barbara almost missed it,

"Anything for one of my favorite granddaughters."

[nightwingmyboi]

Pt 1) I'm ngl, if this Ric Grayson arc ends with Dick finally going off on the rest of the batfam for only showing him affection when they need something, it will almost be worth it. You mentioned in the meta about his relationship with the batfam that to recover from the gunshot he cut every one off (ngl, I stopped reading as soon as his memories were wiped), and I think that means now is the perfect time (or when his memories finally return fully next issue) for him to blow up

Pt 2) I want him to go off on Bruce for never seeming satisfied with what he does. I want him to go off on Tim for running away when everything was going to shit while Bruce was stuck in time (there's evidence that he remembers pre reboot stuff with that one panel that has torque and tarantula and him proposing to Babs so I'm going to say that's all still canon). I want him to lose his shit with Babs for constantly being mad at him when he's trying so hard (I love Babs, but this is annoying)

Pt 3) when he gets his memories back I want him to finally blow up. Like??? His life has been in a constant state of falling apart since he became Nightwing (hell, even before that), but he still always put others first. And now Roy is dead, Donna is evil, Wally is who knows where after killing Roy, Jason and Bruce are back on the outs, etc, etc and people were saying they need him back to fix things when he's recovering from being shot in the head. If they let him point this out, the Ric arc

Pt 4) will have been validated in my eyes. Still fucking terrible writing wise, execution (I was excited for Talon! Dick but christ what I read of it was bad), one of the worst decisions they've made recently, and they've made a bunch of bad ones, but it will be validated in its existence to me.

Yeah, Dick takes a lot of crap from the members of his family; a lot of the things you listed are things that I am very much not a fan of, lmao. And I’d even add that, with the Ric stuff you mention, it wasn’t even that Dick “cut everyone off” so that he could recover; I should have made this clearer--Bruce and the rest of the family should take a lot of the blame for pushing Dick away. See, initially, Dick was open to the idea of getting to know his family. He visited the manor and then Bruce, impatient with the lack of progress Dick was making on regaining his memories, decided to take Dick down to the Batcave, show him the Nightwing suit (that still had the freaking blood from the gunshot wound on it Jesus Christ), and traumatize Dick with the video of him getting shot in the head in order to stir up some memories. Alfred and Damian help Bruce do this:

Nightwing: Rebirth Annual #2

And Dick is obviously horrified. After this, why in the world would Dick want to be Nightwing? Why would he want to associate with his “family”? Staying away from the manor wasn’t Dick cutting out people in his life who cared for him and were trying to help him; it was about, in Dick’s mind, staying away from people who were willing to hurt him, people who cared more about his utility and how they needed him to be Nightwing then they cared about his safety and wellbeing. It was a desperate move to protect himself from people he could no longer trust. It is clear that implanted false memories and other brainwashing was done from the very beginning (by the doctor Bruce specifically hired no less) in order to ensure that “Ric” would not be comfortable with Bruce and would be inclined to leave, but it was Bruce’s actions that had Dick running literally right into his brainwasher’s arms: 

It’s also not even like afterwards Dick hid himself in some unknown location, completely out of contact. Barbara easily tracked Dick down to talk. And yet, when Barbara talks to him, she doesn’t ask Dick if he’s alright. She just tells him that they want him to regain his memories (umm...yeah you’ve made that clear), comments that he’s not acting like himself, and tells him to come back to the manor. So...it’s all about what the family wants. Dick says no, and there are zero attempts at a compromise. Maybe the family could have used the millions of dollars at its disposal to set Dick up elsewhere outside the manor so he doesn’t have to, uh, live in a cab? Maybe they could agree to occasional check-ins instead of the overbearing babysitting they were suggesting, that Dick is uncomfortable with? Maybe they could ask Dick what he wants? But, no. As soon as Dick doesn’t do exactly what they want him to, he’s on his own. People talk about how this arc is making Dick look bad, but beyond that, really it's making all of the family look like uncaring, selfish assholes. 

That aside, about how I want this arc to conclude...it would be nice, as readers, to see Dick finally put his foot down and stand up for himself a little. But honestly? Him going off on everyone like you describe? I feel like that would be out of character. I could maybe see Dick telling off Batman, but I can’t even imagine Dick truly blowing up at Damian or Tim, or really even Barbara. People really over exaggerate Dick’s temper a lot; in reality, it usually takes very extreme circumstances, and often an insane amount of stress and/or brainwashing to make Dick lash out. Bruce is one of the few people that can make Dick lose his temper, so maybe. But I also think that when Dick is truly upset and emotionally compromised, his first move is to go somewhere to be alone. He doesn’t tend to lash out; he tends to retreat and isolate himself if he’s able. You’ll often see him hole himself in his apartment when everything becomes too much. Two good examples of this are in Joker’s Last Laugh and in the Outsiders. After Dick kills the Joker, he immediately retreats to his apartment to be alone, and likewise after Donna dies, he spends months isolated from his friends in Bludhaven: 

Teen Titans/Outsiders Secret Files

And not only all that, but I really don’t think Dick yelling at everyone would be cathartic for him. If he did something like that, he’d feel terrible and guilty about it. He’d apologize. And I really don’t want him to have to apologize for anything in the aftermath of all this horrible stuff he’s been through. I don’t want any of the responsibility for making things right to be put on his shoulders. Though he’ll probably feel the need to try to fix things anyway, I’d actually prefer him to just...stay away from the family. Not avoid them, but let them be the ones to reach out to him for a change. Especially recently, Dick has had to do all the emotional work in his relationships; it would be so gratifying to have his friends and family put the work in on their own and be the ones to initiate so Dick doesn’t have to do all the heavy lifting. 

And hey, I’d love even more for one of the numerous friends he used to have to step in and stand up for him instead, so he doesn’t have to. If the rest of the Titans were not currently being put through depressing arcs themselves (or being dead, RIP Roy), I think they definitely would’ve knocked some heads together. I think the only possible solution...is Uncle Clark coming to the rescue! Surely if Superman knew what was going on, he’d come down to the cave and give a good old fashioned tongue lashing to Batman for his pseudo-nephew’s sake! I’m not caught up with the Superman comics so idk what he’s up to rn, but please tell me this can happen and if not let me dream.

Thanks for the ask! I feel your pain, was pretty disappointed with Talon Dick. I really want to just reach into the comics and wrap Dick up in a blanket or something, give him rest!

[mx-chrx]

Summary: Tim had practically begged Dick to get a flu shot. He probably should've listened.

Barbara checked the time again and sighed. She opened Dick’s contact and sent him a couple question marks. He hadn’t responded in almost an hour and she wondered if she should be worried or annoyed.

When it came to the “Bat Crew,” as Stephanie sometimes called them, tardiness could mean anything from a nap run wild to a slow bleed behind a dumpster.

She scrunched her eyes shut, quickly ridding herself of that mental image and the tension that it had squeezed into her shoulders and was just about to send Tim a text when she finally heard the familiar rumble of a motorcycle pulling into the lot.

Dick hopped off and shot her a goofy smile as he sauntered her way, his hair a sweaty tangle and his eyes somewhat droopy.

Nap run wild, then.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, his voice brittle with exhaustion as he tilted her chin up to kiss her. “My alarm didn’t go off.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Barbara said. She wanted to seem annoyed, but her relief that he wasn’t mortally injured somewhere made it difficult to maintain.

Part of her wondered if normal girls worried that their boyfriends were dying whenever they were running late for a date. Probably not.

They headed for the theater, Babs’ arm looped around his, and she frowned at the dense hoodie he had on while she was in shorts and a tank.

“What’s with this?” she asked, tugging on the sleeve. “You covered in bruises or something?”

He nodded but avoided her eyes the way he always did when he was either lying or embarrassed. She pursed her lips at him but said nothing as they moved through the ticket line.

It wasn’t until they got to the concessions area and Dick hesitated to join her in line that Barbara found herself on high alert.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Don’t tell me you aren’t getting anything.”

She’d personally watched Dick polish off family sized combos singlehandedly. It was equal parts impressive and frightening.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard a few times, the color slowly draining from his face. “Uh, you know, I’m not hungry,” he said, his voice wavering. “M-maybe later.”

“You don’t eat popcorn because you’re ‘hungry,’” she teased, but she was getting genuinely nervous now. Her heart was starting to pound.

Dick didn’t seem hear her, but an urgency came over him as he shoved his wallet into her hands. “Here,” he said breathlessly. “I’ll be right back.”

“What are you–” she began, but he was already ducking into the bathroom.

Ten minutes later Babs had an armful of popcorn and was waiting impatiently by the men’s room, grinning awkwardly as people drifted in and out. Finally Dick emerged, a rueful smile on his lips and even paler than before.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered. His skin was glistening, and she couldn’t tell if it was from sweat or if he’d splashed water on his face.

“What’s going on with you?” she asked, instinctively reaching for his face, but Dick retreated from her touch, taking her hand in his instead.

Okay. Definitely hiding something.

“Nothing,” he promised. “C’mon, we’re gonna miss the trailers.”

Within the first forty minutes, Dick slipped out at least four different times, each time with a different excuse. A phone call, to get some candy that he didn’t even touch, to get Barbara a refill.

When he left for the fifth time, Babs had had enough. She grabbed her bag and their food and followed him.

She lingered outside the bathroom for only a few seconds before rolling her eyes at herself and going in. Whatever was going on in there, she was sure she’d seen worse.

Thankfully there was no one in there, which spared her any awkward explanations or excuses. The only person happened to be in the first stall, where a pair of shoes were sticking out from under the door.

The guy looked like he was kneeling in front of the toilet. And Barbara didn’t have to do much digging to know exactly who it was.

Dick coughed and groaned painfully, his voice reverberating in a way that made her suspect he had his face in the bowl.

Gross.

The toilet flushed and he opened the door and braced himself against the frame. His hair was clinging to his forehead, his eyes half-open and shadowed, and he looked moments away from sinking to the floor.

Barbara stared, her arms crossed like a disapproving mother, and waited for him to notice her.

When he finally did, his tired eyes went wide. “I– Babs, what are you doing here? This is the men’s room!”

He staggered past her to close the bathroom door so that no one else would come in, and the short dash seemed to take everything out of him because he stumbled over to the sinks to lean against the counter with his eyes squeezed shut.

Barbara waited, arms still crossed tightly, fighting the urge to comfort him right away.

After a moment he squinted at her, apparently battling a headache, and sighed. “I know.”

“You’re sick.”

“I’m not ‘sick’…” He lifted a trembling hand to his temple and rubbed it.

“You look like you’re about to pass out. When was the last time you ate something?” she demanded.

Dick considered that for a moment. The fact that he had to think about it at all made her want to scream.

“It’s been a while,” he admitted. “Haven’t been able to keep much down.” He added the last part reluctantly, his gaze shifting away.

“Dick,” she sighed, finally going to put her hand to his forehead. He didn’t pull away this time. In fact, he leaned into it, his eyes closing.

His skin was way too warm as if he’d been laying out in the sun for the past hour instead of sitting in a dark theater. “It’s probably the flu,” she said. “You should be home.”

“The flu,” he muttered. “Tim is gonna go ballistic.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He looked at her through heavy lids and tried to smile. “I’m fine,” he breathed, but there was no conviction in his voice.

“You’re burning up.”

“You calling me hot…Gordon?” He could barely muster the energy to finish the joke.

Barbara just rolled her eyes, kicking herself for the schoolgirl thrill that still sent through her.

Damn him for being so charming.

“Why don’t you take this thing off so you can cool down a little?” she suggested, starting to pull off the hoodie, but he grabbed her wrists.

“Don’t,” he whispered, suddenly earnest. “Please. I’m freezing.”

“Fever and chills,” she noted. “Yeah, you’re a picture of health there, Grayson.”

He grumbled something weakly and shoved his hands under his arms as he shuddered.

“C’mon. Let’s go,” she said, tugging one of his hands free so that she could snake under his arm and let him lean on her.

The process was slow, with Dick having to stop a few times to catch his breath or sit down on a bench to rest, and there was one nerve-racking moment when Barbara wasn’t sure he’d even make it to the parking lot without passing out altogether.

She was strong, but she definitely couldn’t carry an unconscious Dick Grayson alone for very long, and the last thing any of them needed was for some well-meaning bystander to call an ambulance.

When they finally did make it to the parking lot, she felt a massive weight lift off her chest, but Dick looked suddenly anxious, his mouth twisted in an awkward frown.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, already searching for the nearest trash can. It wasn’t too far. If she dragged him he could make it.

“I don’t think…” he began, avoiding her eyes again. “My bike. I don’t think I can make it home on my own right now…” His pale face suddenly turned red as he continued to look anywhere but her eyes. “I mean, I could but–”

“It’s fine,” she said, cutting him off before he could dive into a blackhole of backpedaling and caveats. Even after so many years of working alongside people – Batman, the rest of the Gotham crew, the Teen Titans, and even sometimes the Justice League – it struck her how hard it still was for him to just admit when he needed help.

She supposed that was the case for any of them, though. They’d all rather grin and bear it than feel like a weak link, even with something as low stakes as the flu.

She wondered if that had something to do with where they grew up. Weak links didn’t tend to last long in Gotham.

“I brought my car,” she added, tilting her head towards the maroon Nissan.

She loaded him into the backseat so that he could lay down, and as soon as his head hit the seat, he was out cold. When they got back to his place, Babs had to half-carry him up the steps, fumble with one hand for the spare key he’d given her, then awkwardly assure the desk worker that everything was okay before she managed to drag him up to his apartment.

They shuffled to his room where, once again, Dick flopped lifelessly across his bed, and Babs quickly abandoned any effort to coax him into more comfortable clothes. Instead, she slid a trashcan over along with a glass of water and some aspirin, then retrieved an ice pack from the freezer which she wrapped in an old T-shirt and laid across his forehead.

Dick muttered something that sounded grateful, and she kissed his cheek and wandered into the living room.

A few hours later, she was back in his room with a bowl of soup saying, “Come on, at least hold it.”

Dick, now propped up on a few pillows, stared at the bowl then looked at her. His mouth curled into grin that was an odd mix of playful and embarrassed.

“Would you believe me if I told you I genuinely can’t?” he asked. Then he lifted his hands a bit off the bed and turned them slowly. They shook noticeably, and Babs realized he genuinely wasn’t confident that he’d be able to hold the bowl for himself right now.

The sight of Dick being so depleted, the man who any other day was practically backflipping off the walls and leaping across roofs and laughing with his whole being, turned something jagged in Barbara’s chest.

Without another word, she scooped some of the soup and held the spoon to his mouth. “Open.”

“What? No sound effects? Isn’t it supposed to sound like a plane or something?” he teased. “Where’s the ambiance? The mise en scene?”

She laughed in spite of herself. “Sound effects are for people who don’t lie to their girlfriends about being sick for three days.”

“Ouch,” he said, but he opened his mouth to take a bite. Then he paused, the spoon still in his mouth. “Girlfriend?” he asked.

Babs felt her face getting red. “Don’t talk with your mouthful,” she ordered quickly, then shoved another spoonful in before he could respond.

Dick just laughed, a muffled sound since he hadn’t managed to swallow anything yet, and in that moment, he looked more like himself than he had all day.

He made it about halfway through the bowl before he was sick again – and Barbara couldn’t help but think her rapid-fire feeding was at least partially to blame. But after that, he slept for the rest of the evening, with Babs changing out his ice pack and checking his temperature every few hours. She realized that was all probably excessive, but it made her feel better regardless.

The next day the color was back in his face, and he got up on his own and took a shower. The day after that, he was practically back to his normal self, and emerged from his room freshly shaven with wet hair and his shirt unbuttoned and the scent of soap and lotion wafting off of him.

Barbara sat up on the couch, groggy and achy, but pleased to see him on the mend. “Looks like someone’s feeling better,” she yawned.

He plopped down next to her, finishing the buttons on his shirt. “I’m a new man,” he announced.

“The wonders of food and rest never cease to amaze,” she murmured, without much spirit. She felt almost too tired to even smile properly.

Dick eyed her carefully. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” she sighed. “I haven’t gotten much sleep these past couple days and unlike you and Tim, I need more than two hours a week to function properly.”

“Right,” Dick said, looking somewhat wounded. It made Babs’ chest ache. She hadn’t meant to make it sound like she regretted staying to help.

“Thanks again,” he said. “For everything.” He leaned over and kissed the side of her head, then pulled back, his brows scrunched together.

“What?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “You feel warm.”

“You calling me hot, Grayson?” she asked. Dick grinned but put his hand to her head. His palm felt shockingly cool.

After a second, his eyes went wide. “Uh oh.”

“Don’t say it.”

“Babs, I am so sorr–”

Before he could finish, her stomach lurched and sent her careening towards the bathroom where she collapsed in front of the toilet and hurled her guts out. A few moments later, she felt her hair be pulled gently away from her face and a hand rubbing circles into her back.

“This cannot be happening,” she groaned.

“’Fraid so,” he sighed. “I’ll make up my bed and get you something to wear.”

“Okay… I’ll be here…” Her words were muffled partially by the toilet seat pressing against her cheek and soon, without realizing it, she’d drifted to sleep.

She was only vaguely aware when a pair of strong arms scooped her up and placed her in a newly made bed. Something cool went across her forehead, then a pair of lips brushed her ear as they whispered, “Guess it’s my turn to take care of you.”

Barbara smiled, or at least she thought she did, before succumbing once again to sleep in a bed that smelled distinctly like her favorite person.

[vikingpoteto]

we don’t have to dance (to the beat of their songs)

Chapter 6 on AO3

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Relationships:  (Gen) Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Tags: Battle for the Cowl, Alternate Canon, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Neglect, Domestic Fluff, Canon is not valid I am, and I want them to be friends goddamnit

Summary: In the middle of their battle, Jason asks Tim to leave the nest and be his Robin. Tim decides it's not a bad idea, after all.

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Normalcy.

Tim doesn’t quite know what that concept entails. Once, it meant taking care of himself in a big house, making sure no one knew how much time he actually spent alone. Another time, it meant solving problems, training hard and answering questions, juggling a double life. Then, leading a team of people who trusted him and whom he failed time and time again. Finally, for a brief period of time, normalcy was running against time to solve an impossible puzzle and being a triple agent.

And now… now he isn’t sure anymore.

It’s a sunny Saturday morning when he wakes up and squints at the window. He wonders how beaten he must’ve been to forget to close the blinds. He scratches his belly and sniffles because less than a few hours ago Ivy freaking bombed a warehouse with allergenic pollen, which was really uncool of her. She didn’t even bother to give them a heads up. She did apologize and gave them an antidote before they parted ways, but… still. Tim wonders if it was less effective on him because… you know.

He lifts his shirt enough to check on the scar. It’s healing well, in spite of everything. He doesn’t bother changing out of his sleeping clothes before going upstairs. Judging by the sun outside, it can’t be later than 11 am, which means…

Ah, yes. Just like he expected: normalcy now means getting out of bed late in the weekend and being greeted by the strong scent of tea, because Jason is a heathen. When Tim stumbles his way to the kitchen, he finds the now familiar sight of Jason in his favorite green hoodie, a mug of tea in his hand, and his nose buried in a heavy looking novel.

“Morning,” Tim mumbles, already searching the cabinets for coffee.

“Food,” Jason orders in lieu of a greeting.

Tim mouths the word food while pulling a face, but obediently grabs a piece of toast from the table. Bickering with Jason over mundane things is part of his routine now, but there are certain things the older boy is absolutely inflexible about. Part of normalcy now means knowing Jason will leave food for Tim and fighting him on whether he wants to eat is pointless. Tim bites into the toast as he prepares his coffee.

“Ivy’s thing worked for you?” Jason asks without raising his gaze from his book.

“Hm-hum,” Tim nods. He’s still sniffling, but it’s true that he felt instantaneous relief when he swallowed the antidote last night. “You good too?”

“Yeah. Still, I can’t believe you just took it when she handed it to you,” Jason puts down his book and glares at Tim.

Tim sits on the counter and shrugs. “If she wanted to kill us, she could’ve left us coughing our lungs out like the rest of the guys in the warehouse.”

“You have trust issues in the most fucked up way, kid.”

“Hey, I happen to trust people who deserve trust,” Tim protests. “It’s not like I would take something from the Penguin. Ivy is pretty chill if you’re not littering or dumping waste in rivers.”

“You have a crush on her or something?” Jason teases.

Tim rolls his eyes but focuses on chewing his toast rather than giving him an answer. Jason takes that as he wants, and snickers, like the idiot he is.

This is normalcy now. Having breakfast in the old kitchen and talking about mundane crap - or at least mundane for them - and it feels… Odd. Tim can’t quite explain it. It isn’t like eating alone in Drake manor. It isn’t like making a mess in Titans Tower - the closest place he ever had to a home - because even there he felt like he had to set an example somehow, to keep everyone in check. It isn’t like awkwardly joining Alfred in the morning, still feeling like Bruce only thought he had to adopt him considering the circumstances.

All in all, this new normalcy doesn’t feel like any Tim had felt before. He doesn’t dislike it.

“I’m probably going to finish the adjustments to your computer system today,” Tim informs him. “I can’t believe we’re finally leaving the stone age.”

“Shut up,” Jason tosses another piece of toast at him. “Also you can stop calling it mine. I hate it and I don’t know how to use it after everything you did to it. The computer is all yours.”

Tim catches the toast and grins around his first bite. “Ooh, look at me, I’m Red Hood, I’m tough and scary, but technology is cursed, Alan Turing was a witch-”

Jason stands. Tim is sure he’s about to either mess up his hair or put Tim in a headlock until he begs for forgiveness, even though he can see the hint of a smile twisting Jason’s lips upwards. Before a wrestling match starts, however, Jason freezes.

“Do you hear that?” he whispers.

Tim listens. He can hear nothing other than distant sirens. Burnley isn’t one of the worst districts in Gotham, but they’re too close to Crime Alley. These streets don’t get a lot of traffic. Not this early in the day, anyway.

Rather than explaining himself, Jason visibly shifts into Red Hood: his shoulders square up and he sets his jaw in a challenging scowl.

“Someone just parked on our driveway.”

Tim’s eyes widen. Could it be that they’ve been found out already? He made sure that the henchmen they got were too distracted by Ivy to notice them, but perhaps he had missed something. Part of him wants to go upstairs and grab his staff - even if that would be a stupid thing to do because he can’t exactly fight Dick into forgetting he lied to him.

Tim follows Jason to the entrance as he is, in his stupid oversized Superboy sweater and with toast crumbles all over his pants. He hadn’t even had his coffee. He peeks through the boards on the window and his stomach drops.

“It isn’t Dick,” he says. “It’s worse.”

Jason reads the worry in Tim’s eyes and lets out a curse. Technically, all the doors to the house are sealed. The only entrance is a block away and it leads to the basement/Red Hood bunker. Jason, however, seems to forget that and grabs the door handle angrily. Tim cringes when he hears the sound of frail wood being ripped because it means Jason’s strength is out of control - which means he’s getting near pit rage.

“How the fuck did you find us?” he barks from the porch.

Barbara Gordon is still adjusting herself in her wheelchair. The icy glare she gives Jason shows that she isn’t impressed by his fury.

Foreseeing disaster, Tim rushes out to put himself between Jason and Barbara. “It’s fine, let me talk to her!”

Jason glares at him. Although there’s a prominent vein pulsing on his brow and there’s definitely a hint of green in his eyes, he grits his teeth and stops. Tim sighs in relief before turning to Babs:

“Damian saw us, didn’t he?” he asks.

“What the hell does the brat have to do with this?” Jason hisses.

“Logic,” Tim shrugs. “I’ve been taking care of our digital trail. If Babs knows about us, it means one of the heroes under her watch saw us. Cass is in Hong Kong. Steph and Dick would’ve confronted us right away. The only option left is Damian.”

Jason groans and his eyes have mostly returned to their usual shade of brown. Tim had somehow annoyed him into calming down, which is a skill he’s getting better at every day. Tim smiles a little.

“Well,” Barbara says, her voice sharp. “You thought no one was going to notice two extra vigilantes running around?”

“Not forever, no,” Tim admits, trying to sound apologetic. "We wanted to be left on our own for as long as we could, though. We don’t need external interference.”

At that, Barbara looks scandalized. “Absolutely wrong. Get me a freaking ramp or get down here, Timothy, I’m going to beat the crap out of you.”

Jason lets out an annoyed huff, to which Tim glares at him. He has no business getting mad at Barbara for threatening them when he promises to beat Tim up at least three times a day. Five, if it’s not a school day.

“Why don’t we postpone the violence,” Tim suggests, his eyes not leaving Jason’s, “and just… have a chat? Inside? Jason just made tea.”

An annoyed grunt is all the response Jason gives him before making his way back inside.  He doesn’t slam the door behind him, which is as good as a yes. Tim rolls his eyes before climbing down the steps to help Barbara up the porch.

“By the way, how did you find our address?” he asks.

“Tim, please,” she huffs. “After I saw the footage from Damian’s bodycam, all I had to do was track your online footprint. You think I couldn’t notice the upgrades you’ve been making?”

That’s fair, and Tim should’ve predicted that possibility. Granted, if no one had seen them, Barbara wouldn’t know there was something to track.

He pushes her wheelchair to the living room where Jason is waiting for them. The older boy is sitting on their crappy couch with his knees spread out and his fingers steepled. It would’ve been an impressive crime lord pose to welcome someone if his green hoodie wasn’t sprinkled with toast crumbs.

Not that Barbara is that easy to intimidate.

“So what the hell happened?” She demands. “You left that night and went to meet the guy that almost killed you and two of your brothers?”

That stings. Barbara wasn’t there that night. Tim wonders if things would’ve been any different if she had been. Would she have listened to his theory or just called him crazy as Dick and Cassie had?

Well. All in all, he knew Barbara would always be there for Dick first. He never blamed her for that, because her partnership with Dick was far deeper than any impact Tim could’ve made in her life. He takes a seat by Jason’s side, farther from her.

“Damian also tried to kill me,” Tim reminds her. “And Dick fired me right after Jason offered me a job. Between the attempted murder and no job, and the same but with a gig...”

She takes off her glasses and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“That freaking idiot,” she mutters to herself. Then, raising her gaze to meet Tim’s: “He didn’t mean to fire you.”

Tim clenches his teeth. “It sure seemed like it when I woke up and saw Damian wearing my old costume,” he snaps.

He feels Jason whipping his head towards him, and he curses himself. He had never revealed the gritty details of his dismissal for a reason. He reminds himself that Dick gave him Robin and it was his right to take it away, he has no reason to be this angry. That only serves to make him more bitter, though.

“I’m not saying Dick wasn’t stupid,” Barbara continues, her brow furrowing. “I already had some words with him about it. It doesn’t mean it was okay for you to just vanish for months, Tim. And then you’re back and you don’t talk to anyone. Not even Steph? Me?”

“Oh, fuck right off,” Jason snaps.

Barbara goes stiff. Tim groans, because now he has to push his anger further away to be able to stop the two of them. Before he can say anything, Jason continues:

“You’re talking as if I fucking kidnapped him. You know damn well how capable he is,” he barks. “The kid made a choice. I swear to fuck, everyone‘s a critic…”

Barbara opens her mouth but closes it again without saying anything. She presses her lips into a tight line. It isn’t often you see Oracle at a loss for words. For the first time, she looks at Jason without any animosity, her thoughts bare in her eyes. Unlike the boys, Barbara doesn’t play games. She doesn’t hide her emotions on purpose. The longing in her eyes is almost palpable, as though she’s seeing a dear relative she lost a long time ago, and she can’t reach them.

“What are you two thinking?” She asks. “What are you doing?”

“What we do best,” Tim says simply. “Vigilante work.”

“You told Dick you retired,” Barbara points out. “Then you ghosted him. He keeps waiting for you to come back.”

“He likes to do that,” Jason says. Now his voice is barely a whisper. “He says he’ll be there if you need him. Who says we need him, though?”

Barbara hesitates. “I told… Never mind. Just… I’m glad you’re back, Tim. And I’m glad you’re not dead again, Jason.”

Tim smiles. Jason looks like he wants to glance around to make sure she’s not talking to someone else. When it becomes clear she isn’t, he somehow looks even more uncomfortable.

“So,” he starts. “What now?”

“We fight for Tim’s custody, obviously,” Barbara smiles.

The peaceful moment ends when Tim and Jason start protesting out loud over one another. Barbara giggles at the cacophony of half-words, something along the lines of fuck off, not a child get your own damn kid responsible for myself-

“I’m joking!” She shouts to be heard over their complaints. “Jesus, you boys get riled up so easily.”

“I’m not a boy,” Tim and Jason say at the same time.

They glare at each other. Barbara rolls her eyes.

“Now,” she continues as though they didn’t interrupt her, “let me see your work, Tim. I’m going to give you guys a free upgrade.”

“Like hell you are,” Jason says. “How do we know you’re not spying on us for Dick?”

She arches an eyebrow. “Funny. I thought you two were fighting rogues, not Batman. Why would Dick want to spy on you?”

“Because he’s a meddler and he doesn’t trust me,” Jason states as though it’s a fact.

“To be fair, you did try to kill Tim. And Damian. And Dick,” she retorts. Before Jason can say anything back, she raises a hand to ask for patience. “It doesn’t matter to me, though. Barbara Gordon is Dick Grayson’s best friend and partner. Oracle, however, is an ally to anyone trying to protect Gotham. I’ll help you two like I help Batman, the Birds of Prey, and even Batgirl.”

Jason frowns. “I thought Cassandra was in Hong Kong.”

“Well,” Tim scratches his own nape, feeling suddenly guilty. “Actually… there might be a new Batgirl in town.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t trying to hide it!” Tim says. “I swear it just slipped my mind with everything else I had to report!”

Jason looks like he wants to grab a cushion and smother Tim to death. Before he can do as much, Barbara clears her throat loudly and says:

“Anyway… Support. I don’t talk about the vigilantes under my watch. Not to Batgirl. Not to Batman.”

Jason crosses his arms and leans back against the couch, his brow furrowed. Tim fights the urge to pat away the crumbs from his hoodie and waits patiently. Technically, this is Jason’s operation and he’s the one calling the shots. Tim has his own opinions, but in the end, a sidekick is supposed to follow orders.

Then Jason turns to Tim. “Replacement?”

He… does he want Tim’s opinion?

“I trust Barbara,” Tim says without hesitation. “And having Oracle’s help is going to be a game-changer.”

Jason considers that for a moment. It’s clear that he isn’t happy about the conclusions he’s drawing but, in the end, he sighs in defeat.

“Fine,” Jason says. “But if you tattle about what we’re doing, you’re gonna regret it.”

“Why, gee, Jason, how kind of you to allow me to help you guys,” Barbara snaps.

The two of them start bickering, but Tim tunes them out for a moment. It isn’t like Bruce and Dick never asked him for his opinion. They did. A lot. He simply hadn’t expected Jason to do the same. And so openly too. Bruce liked to pretend Tim’s input was but a piece to a puzzle he was assembling by himself. It seems like Jason isn’t above taking Tim’s words at face value and explicitly showing that he was part of the decision making.

It’s… nice. Not quite like being a sidekick, but not like having a whole team depending on him alone. Tim decides he likes this.

“Alright, alright, enough,” he says, standing up. “Come on, Babs, let me show you our office. Do you want some tea?”

“Anything but Earl Grey,” she says, allowing Tim to push her wheelchair towards the kitchen. “Don’t tell Alfred.”

“Wha… Does that make me the cook?” Jason complains.

Tim gives him a pointed look. “Do you wanna help her with the computer instead?”

Jason starts grumbling and cursing under his breath, but he still starts looking for something in the cupboards.

Unlike the Batcave, the secret entrance to the basement isn’t very fancy: just a couple of tiles that can be removed and a ladder. Tim helps Barbara out of her chair and she climbs down on her own. He has to admire her core strength. A little juggling with the folded chair later, he joins her and helps her to the seat again.

As soon as she’s comfortable, rather than rolling straight to the computer, she wraps her arms around Tim a little tighter. Surprised, but not much, he hugs her back.

“I missed you,” she whispers. “I’m so, so glad you’re back.”

Tim squeezes her. He always loved Barbara’s hugs. He doesn’t say anything, though, because he doesn’t think he can. There’s a knot in his throat stopping any sound from coming out. He tightens the embrace a little more and hopes she knows what he means without him needing to say anything.

Barbara pulls back first, her expression somber. “Jason looks better.”

“He is,” Tim assures.

“Still… I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I do,” Tim says and there’s not a hint of doubt in his voice. “I… I guess I understand why he did what he did. And Jason is a hero too, Babs. I didn’t forget that, even if some of you did.”

She presses her lips into a tight line and at first, Tim thinks it’s due to the implied accusation. Then something clicks, and he thinks it must’ve been because he referred to the Batfamily as ‘some of you’. For a while, he refused to think of himself as an outsider - he was Timothy Wayne after all - but, at some point, it seems like he started accepting he might not be one of them anymore. It still stings.

However, he also realizes he can live with that. Maybe it’s because of how easy it’d been to get used to Jason, to this new normalcy that feels truly normal after so little time. Tim may have left, but it isn’t Red Robin and them. It’s us and them. And, if everything goes according to his plans, they’re soon going to be at least on the same side.

For now, it’s enough.

There was a time in Tim’s life when he didn’t mind making small talk. His mother drilled into his head that he was supposed to be pleasant and polite and that there’d be consequences if he embarrassed his father in front of his associates. Timothy could lose a whole week of his allowance for chewing with his mouth open during a business dinner. It was more about the inconvenience of being scolded than the punishment, really, but Tim learned pretty fast that being sociable and polite was easier.

It’s been a long time, though. Tim’s lost his touch. Or so it feels when he’s unable to shake off one of his annoying classmates.

“...and then you could totally join us this weekend for the tennis tournament,” she says.

Tim refrains from sighing. He thought all of his classmates had been warned not to mingle with that Drake kid. Even if he was Bruce Wayne’s newest charity case, he slept through most of the classes and talked back to the teachers. Unfortunately, Laney Gonzalez didn’t get the memo.

“I don’t think I should,” Tim says tiredly. “I’m not great at any sports, really.”

“Pff, like I’d believe you!” Laney chuckles and latches onto his arm, squeezing his biceps. “You think we can’t tell how muscular you are under this hideous uniform?”

For fuck’s sake. “No, really,” he tries again, gently prying his arm away with an awkward chuckle. “I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

Go to school, Tim, Jason said. You need an education, Tim. Why doesn’t Jason get an education? Then he could hang back after class, even though there are better things to do because Laney freaking Gonzalez decided it was a good idea to make friends with the weird kid. Tim’s attempts to reach the gates seem to go unnoticed by the girl.

“Come on, Tim,” she insists. “You never join us when we do class stuff. It’ll be fun. You don’t have to play or anything, just… hang out a bit?”

What is a polite way to say I’d rather get into a fistfight with Killer Croc , Tim wonders?

He’s about to make up a family emergency - is she going to notice that his phone didn’t buzz at all? - when he notices a small commotion near the exit. A group of students is eyeing the street curiously, and even the ones leaving are taking another glance at… something. Worried, he lets Laney’s speech about friendships in high school fly over his head, and he moves a bit faster. If something big happened while he was in history class, he’s going to freaking kill…

Jason.

Tim stops dead on his tracks because the thing his fellow schoolmates keep glancing at is none other than Jason Todd himself in all of his glory. He’s leaning against the biggest motorcycle Tim had ever seen and wearing his favorite black leather jacket. Tim is already considering the fastest way to kill himself even before Jason’s face splits into a wicked grin and he opens his arms.

“Timbers! Fancy seeing you here!” He says, no , shouts.

Kids in and out of the schoolyard follow Jason’s gaze and find Tim burying his face in his hands.

“Uh…” Laney is now keeping her distance for once. “You know him?”

Tim is already stomping towards Jason.

“What are you doing here?” He hisses.

Still smiling, Jason hands him a yellow helmet. “Picking you up. Not happy to see me?”

“What if Dick sees you?” Tim protests.

Behind him, someone gasps. Tim turns around and curses when he realizes Laney followed him and thought it was okay to listen to a private conversation.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I should’ve noticed it! For the record, I wasn’t hitting on you, if that’s why you kept refusing. I really just want to be friends.”

Jason looks vaguely amused.

Tim frowns. “What?”

“That’s your boyfriend, I assume?”

“No!” Tim hears himself shouting. “He’s my brother!”

Laney has dark skin, but Tim still notices the way her cheeks go a shade darker. “Oh gosh, is that right? I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you had any brothers other than Dick and Damian!”

Tim wants to die so bad.

“Actually,” Jason says, voice soft, dropping an arm around Tim’s shoulders, “I’m a bit of a family secret, so don’t go tweeting Vicki Vale about it, will you? We’ll know if you babble.”

Scratch that. He doesn’t want to die. He wants to kill Jason.

Laney nods hurriedly and makes a hushed promise to keep the secret. She mumbles something about texting Tim later - Tim is sure that she doesn’t have his number - and half-jogs away from them, her ponytail bobbing behind her. Well, that takes care of that. Laney Gonzalez is probably never going to speak to him again.

He turns around and punches Jason’s arm. “What the fuck was that?”

“I have a lead on that case from last night,” Jason hops on the bike. “Get on, loser, we’re going crime fighting.”

“We had a plan. You think Dick won’t notice you’re picking me up from school?” Tim complains. He’s already climbing the bike behind Jason, though.

“Tim, what did I tell you about plans again?”

Tim sighs as he puts the helmet on. He rests his forehead against Jason’s back as though he doesn’t even have the strength to sit up straight anymore. Make a plan. The plan goes wrong. Throw it away.

“Besides, Barbara knows. The Gremlin knows. It’s just a matter of time before we have Bitchard and Brat Girl on our asses.”

He starts the bike before Tim is ready, but Tim makes a point of looping his arms around his waist and swallowing a startled yelp when they go from zero to very fast.

It isn’t until they’re several blocks away from Gotham Academy that Tim fully understands what he’d just done. He told a random classmate he had an extra brother. He told her Jason was his brother. He briefly considers letting go of Jason’s waist and letting himself fall into the asphalt.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself. “I’m sorry.”

Jason eyes back briefly before turning his attention back to the street. Between the helmet and the speed, Tim didn’t catch even a glance of his expression, but he can picture it just fine. It’s been barely three weeks since they started living together, but this is normal for him now. He knows Jason’s mildly intrigued face just as well as his own.

“For what?” Jason asks.

“For saying you’re my brother. I panicked.”

Again, he remembers the early days at Wayne manor. Bruce had sworn off adoptions and Tim could only stay after he promised that wouldn’t be an issue.  Hell, Tim tried to keep his word even after his dad died, and yet…

Jason mumbles something that gets lost over the wind.

“What?”

“I said whatever, man!” Jason snaps. “I don’t think adoption expires after death. Technically we are brothers.”

Tim doesn’t say anything. He should know better than to keep making the same mistake.

But isn’t going after Jason a recurrent mistake in itself anyway?

“It’s better like this, to be honest,” Jason says. “It’d be weird to be living with a random minor, I guess.”

It’s basically an automatic response at this point: “You’re two years older than me.”

“I’m legally an adult. You’re not,” Jason reminds him.

“You’re legally dead, actually,” Tim points.

Jason barks out a burst of laughter. “Look at you, Timmy, saying such mean things. Am I a bad influence on you?”

“Now, that tone is creepy. Drop it or I’ll make us crash. You know I have no regard for my own safety.”

Tim is definitely doing that talking without thinking thing again.

“Ugh, don’t I know it,” Jason groans. “Should’ve considered that before taking a fucking kamikaze as my partner.”

Tim perks up. “Hey…!”

“You’re not allowed to name yourself Kamikaze,” Jason cuts him off. “First, that would probably be racist, and second, because you’re not naming yourself after suicidal pilots. You chose Red Robin. No takesie backsies.”

“Fine, mom,” Tim pouts.

Jason speeds up and Tim takes that as his cue to pretend the purr of the engine is too loud for them to talk.

For once in his life, Tim decides to really throw the plan away and see where this goes. This is just his new routine and Tim is nothing if not adaptable.

The case should be simple enough: someone had destroyed an underground casino and killed the bosses responsible for keeping the place running. All of the workers had been spared. They would consider it an everyday case if the same thing hadn’t happened again somewhere near the Narrows. The two places didn’t have anything in common other than the business they ran - gambling, prostitution… the works.

Tim spent hours thinking of a personal motive and so far he had discarded personal vendetta and random coincidence. The methods didn’t match one of the rogues they knew and, although he didn’t say it out loud, Tim feared they had another Red Hood like vigilante in their hands.

When Red Hood and Red Robin come out that night, they’re following one of Hood’s hunches.

“I still think I could’ve done this alone,” Red mumbles.

“I still think I could’ve done this alone,” Hood mocks in a high-pitched voice.

Red Robin glares at him and, even in the dirty dark alley, Hood doesn’t miss it. He sighs.

“Do you trust Oracle or not?” He sighs.

“Of course I do,” the boy mumbles. “Still, it would be more efficient…”

“To split up and have each of us cover a place. We’ve been over this. Oracle said she’d make sure the other place is closed for the night. If I’m right - and I usually am - our guy is gonna attack here.”

Red rolls his eyes but decides not to argue any further. He’s pretty sure this is punishment for forcing Hood to accept Oracle’s help, by keeping him close and refusing to let him do part of the job alone. Alas. Let Hood be petty for now. He’ll learn soon enough that having Oracle backing you up is too good of an opportunity to pass up.

However, now that he thinks about it, Red Robin hasn’t done anything big alone since his debut. Patrolling and stopping random muggins is one thing, but the attack on Black Mask’s warehouses? The bust of the big drug traffic operation at the harbor? This odd murder case? In all of these high profile cases, Hood demanded that he and Red Robin attacked together.

He makes a mental note to think about the possible meaning of that later. Right now he has to focus on finding suspicious activity, which is surprisingly hard. Once they’re at the strategic point Red Robin picked and getting set for the stakeout, Hood seems to have similar thoughts, because he comments:

“It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack, huh?”

Red sighs. “We’re not breaking into their office. We can’t risk spooking the murderer.”

The older boy shrugs and they settle down to wait.

This is a part of the job Red Robin was oddly fond of. There’s something about just sitting on a roof and waiting that is calming to him. He loved the adventure and solving mysteries and fighting bad guys and the thrill. That being said, there was something satisfying about taking your time and waiting to act. Just them too high up to be seen, the only witnesses being the cold night air and the certainty that they’re doing something good and saving innocents.

Tim wondered if it was fucked up of him to love this so much. He’s been in contact with the ugliest parts of humanity since he was a little boy, after all. After Cissie retired, he thought about it a lot. Like Cissie, he didn’t have special powers. He was just another boy that got himself into a crazy situation. Why couldn’t he be just another civilian, unaware of Gotham’s nightlife? Enjoy school, as Jason wanted him to? Live a long life, maybe die of old age?

Tim likes to think that the fact that he loves this so much means that he was made for this life.

“What do you think we’re facing tonight?” He asks.

Red Hood starts talking and Red Robin listens to him. Unlike Tim, Jason is all about instinct and passion. Whereas Tim collects clues and puts together theories, Jason understands the reasoning behind them and comes up with hunches that Tim couldn’t dream of. Red Robin loves to hear his hypothesis because it’s almost like having a book read out loud to you, and an enjoyable one at that.

He’s almost satisfied, all things considered.

Hood suddenly stops talking. As fast as lightning, he reaches into his holster and, before Red Robin even thinks of stopping him, Red Hood stands and points his gun at something - no, someone - right behind them. He pulls the trigger.

Red Robin opens his mouth in horror, but, rather than a lifeless body dropping to the ground he watches the invader dodge the bullet as though it’s nothing, almost gracefully. He reaches for his staff, but the invader is already running towards them again and Hood is getting about to take another shot. The invader’s cape flies behind them, dropping from their head and revealing... a familiar face.

Hood’s finger is already on the trigger and Red realizes this time she’ll have no time to dodge. Without thinking twice, he jumps between Red Hood and the woman.

“ TIMOTHY !” Hood barks, pointing the gun upwards.

“I know her!” Red Robin shouts at one of them. Maybe at both of them. “I know her! She’s my friend!”

The woman’s stopped as well. She’s looking at them with her head tilted to the side. Without minding Hood behind him, Red Robin faces her and takes in her appearance. She’s still bald. Still rocking all the scars - maybe she even has new ones? - and she’s still dressed like a grunge-rock singer from the late 90’s. He’d recognize her anywhere.

“Pru?” He confirms. “Prudence Wood?”

Her shoulders relax when she hears his voice. She reaches for something in her pocket - Hood gets tense again behind him - but all she grabs is a piece of paper. It’s crumpled and a bit dirty, as though she’s been walking around with it in her pocket for a while.

Without hesitation, Red takes it from her unresisting fingers and reads the words someone - presumably Pru herself - had hurriedly scribbled:

I knew this would get your attention, the paper says, I’m here to warn you. The Head of the Demon is coming after you.

And, just like that, Tim’s frail normalcy is gone.

[bigskydreaming]

What are some of the Dicks skills that fic writers pawn of to Tim and Jason? I get what you mean usually they lower dick to elevate literally anyone he's come into contact with but I was wondering what you've seen?

To clarify, its more Dick’s dynamics that get transplanted onto Jason and Dick’s skills that get erased to focus on where Tim has the same or similar skills. And I already went into the stuff with Dick’s dynamics with Roy and Kori and others, so to focus on the latter:

Computer skills is the most notable - I’ve posted about this a lot before because its a pet peeve, that so many people think Tim like, invented hacking and Dick ‘stole’ it from him for the YJ cartoon. When actually hacking started being a thing people were obsessed with movies and such about all the way back in the early 80s, almost a full decade before Tim was created, and Dick was established as pretty much THE first hero to make a skillset out of that, even before Babs did. He’s hacked alien technology using Tamaranean programming language he learned from Kori. 

And just his detective skills in general. People put a lot of emphasis on Dick’s athletic prowess and then take that to the extent of treating it like it makes him the ‘dumb jock’ of the family, like there even has to be one, which....I don’t get but whatever. But basically, there’s a tendency to slot Dick into the athlete role and have him sit back and let the others take over (largely Tim) and do the intellectual heavy-lifting which they’re supposedly better at when like.....Dick played more of a role in teaching Tim to be a detective than Bruce did, arguably. He’s a master strategist and tactician, and there are canon panels of him solving cases on television shows like America’s Most Wanted, and calling in the tips anonymously, because he’s supposed to be relaxing with an injury and he’s bored and needed to stimulate himself so he just...solves high-level cases from his couch.

Like I always say, the Batfamily are a family of Mary Sues. They’re all capable of whatever the plot requires them to be capable of, at any given moment, which makes trying to ‘rank’ them in terms of skills utterly pointless and arbitrary, IMO. My only concern is when people take away things they’ve been shown doing for years because they feel there’s only room for one hacker or one weapons master or one acrobat....and its like...why? They’re all hypercompetent and emotionally dysfunctional and there’s so much to mine in that dichotomy.

I think there’s such a focus on trying to make each Robin distinct and unique and have their own specific niche that people move entirely away from letting their similarities shine....when its a lot of those similarities that are the reason all of them (with the exception of Cass, obvsly) were Robin and GOOD at it in the first place.

Let them have things in common and common ground and shared skills and experiences and overlap instead of this “there can only be one” insistence that boxes out everyone else even in situations where someone having the same experience or skill would be BENEFICIAL to the focused upon character. That’s my stance anyway.

[secondgenerationnerd]

Not Her Too

You know what we need? The Joker fucking up. Enjoy!!

----

           People assume a lot about Dahlia when they see her. Mainly because she can’t see them. How sad, they sigh. How pitiful, they whisper. What bullshit, she thinks.

“Gracie, I don’t know if you’re smart or stupid,” Dahlia laughs into her phone, unlocking the front door. The groceries rustle in the paper bag,

“Whatever,” Her cousin snorts, “My Dads say I’m brilliant.”

Between clicks of her tongue, listening to the way they bounce around the tiny apartment, Dahlia teases, “Those are two different versions of a similar lie.”

“Fuck you, Todd.”

“No thanks.” She sets the bag on the counter. “Any word from Tio Tim?”

“Yeah, Dad said everything went great. They’re over at Uncle Dickie’s place being weirdos.”

“What does that say about us then?”

“Well, with my other Dad and Aunt Cassie, I stand something of a chance. You on the other hand—”

“Remain as the prettier of us.” Laughing with her cousin, Dahlia shakes her head. “Alright, I’ll call you later.”

“Sounds like a plan. Love you, Dahli.”

“Love you too, Gracie.”

Setting her phone in the charging dock, Dahlia starts putting the food away. Papa hasn’t changed the lay out since they moved in. Makes it easier for her. Sure fingers run over boxes, can, and jars, running down a list in her head of what to make. Wonders if she should try to call her father to see if he wants--

A creak from the front area makes her slow for a moment. A insane heartbeat that she’s never heard before. Pretending everything’s okay, shrugging it off, she continues walking around the kitchen. Before she can reach the emergency button in the knife drawer, every muscle in her body tightens painfully, electricity pulsing through it. She can’t even scream. Dahlia collapses on the ground.

“Well, well, well.” She knows that cackle. Heard it in recordings for years. A gloved hand grabs her face, “Look at what I found.”

--

“Fuck you, Drake!” Jason laughs at his younger brother.

“I’m just saying you could do worse than—”

           “I am just happy with how my life is.” Jason assures him. “I’ve got a home. I’ve got you dumbasses for family. I’ve got my Llama. I don’t need much else.”

           Before one of his brothers can say something back, Dick’s phone buzzes. He reads it with a frown. Tim chuckles into his coffee mug, “Uh-oh, in trouble with the Missus.”

           “Babs is saying we need to turn on the tv.” He reaches for the remote.

           “What channel?”

           “Any.”

           The screen flickers to life and their hearts stop at that fucking high pitched cackle from the screen. Joker’s ghostly white face and bloody lips take up the entire screen. Soft groans from the background sound so, so familiar.

           “Hello to all just joining us.” The psychotic clown “I’m not typically one to redo performances, but this one was just too tempting.”

           He moves back from the camera. Curled on the ground, hands bound behind her, a teenaged girl groans. The soft brown curls cover her face until Joker slams his foot into her stomach. Clouded gray eyes widen as she gasps and Jason’s on his feet.

           No.

           Not her.

           Not her too.

           “Now, now.” Joker tuts, “You really need to help me here, kid.”

           “Go to hell.” Dahlia spats. Joker yanks her up with a fist in her hair, not even blinking as she spits blood at him.

           “That’s just rude.” He smashes her face into the concrete. “You remind me of your dad. He was just like this. Wonder if he remembers this.”

           Joker disappears from the screen. Coughing, Dahlia manages to sit up. Bruises cover her face and neck, blood dripping from her nose. Metal scraping along the ground makes Jason’s heart stop. More so the words that Joker says, “You and I are going to settle a debate your dad and I couldn’t. Which feels better: A or B.”

           As Joker brings the crow bar down, Dick turns the TV off.

           “Turn it back on.” Jason growls.

           The first Robin crosses his arms, “No.”

           “I said, turn. It. Back. ON!”

           “No.”

           “THAT’S MY DAUGHTER—”

           “So, do you want to keep wasting our time arguing or do you want save her?” The question cuts through his anger instantly, along with his brothers’ clenched jaws. Jason blinks until he continues, “Babs has already traced the signal. We leave now, we can be there in less than ten minutes.”

           “…He’s hurting my little girl.”

           “We know, Jason.” Tim pulls their spare uniforms from the cupboard.

           “I’m going to—"

           “Todd.” Damian’s even tone does little to hide the anger in his jade eyes. “Do you think any of us aren’t thinking about the same thing?”

           His brothers each give him the same look.

They’ve got his back.

More than that, they’re on his side.

--

           Sour breath burns her nostrils. Every tiny movement makes her want to cry. Another sharp blow from the crowbar hits her shoulder. “Now, now. We aren’t done yet.”

           “Fuck. You.” Dahlia coughs, leaving a metallic taste in her mouth. Another blow to her unbound legs.

           “Now, I would have though you’d be nicer by now.” Joker tuts. She mumbles into the concrete. Yanking her up by her hair, the pyscho tuts, “What was that?”

           “My Papa is going to kill you, puta.” She lunges forward, sinking her teeth into his nose. His yell of pain makes her bite harder, until he hits her again. His retreating footsteps give her her chance.

           A door slams open in front of her. She barrels forward into one of the henchmen. Tio Dick wouldn’t be impressed with her landing, but she’s thinking more about not dying. As she stumbles away, Dahlia brings her hands up then down to break the zipties digging into her skin. She uses the echo along the walls to figure out where Joker and his henchmen are. Her head starts spinning the more she tries to breathe.

Don’t pass out. If you do, you die. Dahlia repeats that to herself, listening to the henchmens’ yells as they search for her. Hiding behind what feels like wooden crates in a corner, she covers her mouth. Every breath feels like a stab, forcing her to fight back tears.

She’s going to die here. She’s going to die here. Maybe she’ll get lucky and come back. Like Tio Damian and Li-Li. Like Papa. Papa… He’s going to

           “Get back!” A henchman yells in pain.

           “Where is she?!” Dahlia looks up. Tio Dami?

           “Dahlia! We’re here!” Tio Dickie shouts, voice bouncing off the metal walls.

           “Dahlia! ¡¿Dónde estás?! ¡Estoy aquí! ¡Estoy aquí!”

           “Papá?” Dahlia whispers.

           “LLAMA!”

           Whimpering and holding her side, Dahlia pulls herself up. She leans against the wall as she limps towards the noise. “Papa...Papa…”

           “Ooo, lookit what the bat dragged in!” Joker cackles. Her father roars and she hears the familiar sound of fists against flesh. Forcing herself to take the next step, she focuses on the sound of her father’s hits. The way his voice cracks with the next yell.

           “WHERE IS SHE?”

           “Who?” Joker cackles, “Oh! The sightless bird? Ya know, I think she was around here somewhere—"

           “Papa…” She mumbles, mouth painfully dry. “Papa…”

           A body slams against metal walls, Papa snarling, “If you don’t tell me where the hell she is—”

           “Hood!” Tio Dickie. They’re here. They’re here for her. “Hood!”

           “WHA—" She can hear his breath catch. Another step, Dahlia, almost there. There’s a loud thud and pained laugh from Joker. Heavy footsteps run towards her. “LLAMA!”

           “Papa…Papa…” She reaches out for him, stumbling over her feet.

--

           As Dahlia stumbles, he lunges forward. Her whimper of pain as he eases her to the ground makes his teeth grit. Dark bruises blossom up her collar bone. Every breath she takes cracks. The fucker.

           “Dahlia?” He murmurs, pushing her hair from her face. Dahlia’s head falls against his chest, eyes drooping shut, “Llama. I’m here. I’ve got you…”

           “Papa…” She whimpers, “Hi, Papa…”

           “Ohhhhh, seems the little bird isn’t feeling too good.” Joker cackles. Damian presses his katana into Joker’s throat, drawing blood.

           “Redhood, she needs to go to the hospital.” Nightwing says. Jason fixes his gaze on the pyscho clown. His older brother grips his shoulder, “He’s not getting away with this. Not this time.”

           “We’ve got him.” Tim’s Red Robin voice used to piss him off. Now, Jason can hear the fire in his little brother’s voice. Hears the promise in it. Nodding, he lifts her up, like when she was little bitty.

           “Hold on, Dahli. You’re going to be okay. I promise. I promise.”

--

           He’s not sure how long it’s been. Time doesn’t pass normally here. He knows the nurses have changed shifts 8 times. Knows his brothers have called for updates three times. Knows the doctor has come by twice, taken her for tests too many times to count. The only thing keeping him sane is each beep of her heart monitor.

“‘People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends,’” The Book Thief isn’t his favorite book, but it’s the last one she had been reading. “‘but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors--'”

Dahlia’s cloudy eyes fly open, hands reaching out in front of her, “Papa! Papa!”

The book drops from his grasp. He brings her hands to his face. Since he adopted her, touching someone’s face has always calmed her. Even with the scars and oddities of their family, their faces calm her. Frantic hands feel his face until she starts crying.  

“Estoy aquí, niña. Estoy aquí, te tengo,” Jason holds her close, kissing his daughter’s curls over and over, “Estás a salvo, Dahlia. Estás seguro.”

For a few minutes, Dahlia can’t speak as the cries wrack her body. He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know what she needs to hear. So, he holds her. Holds her and holds her and holds her tighter with each fresh cry—a terrible mix of pain and sorrow and fear.

“I-I’m s-s—”

“No. Dahli, no.” He lifts her hand back to his face, holding it there. “You don’t apologize for jack shit. Not for a damn thing.”

“I tr-tried-tried to st-stay bra-ave.” She hiccups, nails dig into his arm. “I-I tried.”

“I know. I know.” He hugs her tighter. “You’re alive. You’re alive, Dahli, that’s all I care about.”

The teenager cries in her father’s arms for hours.

And he doesn’t let go until she’s ready.

--

           It’s been two weeks. Dahlia had finally been released from the hospital with many follow up appointments with a new therapist. Her family had visited every day, Grace asking what the other guy looked like. Alfred sent her favorite desert. Her aunts made Papa go home for a day to shower and eat. Aside from that day, which Dahlia had to force him to agree to, Jason hadn’t left her side. All their visits remind her why she’s lucky to be apart of their family. Remind her why she wants to go home. Jason had offered to find them a new place, but Dahlia shot him down. She grew up in that apartment. Joker doesn’t get to take it from her.

She had just one stop she wanted to make first.

The electronic beeps and creak of the security door make her straighten up. Even his sour breath and cackle can’t phase her. He’s seen the bruises.

           Good.

           “Well, look what the bat dragged in.” Joker cackles.

           “Wow, thought the infamous Joker would be more original.” She raises an eyebrow. “Whole world of blind jokes and you go with ‘look.’”

           “See someone got their daddy’s bite.” The metal legs of his chair creak as he leans back. “Where’s he at? Thought all the Boy Blunders would have their kids under lock and key.”

           Leaning forward, Dahlia removes her sunglasses. Grace told her once that her cloudy, unfocused gray eyes unnerve people in the best way. More creaks in his chair as Joker adjusts himself.

           “I was nine when Papa told me what you did. Younger than that when I heard his nightmares, but nine was when I learned about the monster in my father’s head.” Dahlia keeps her voice even. “Growing up, I heard all the stories and rumors about you. Heard all the things you’ve done—to strangers, to your enemies, to my family. I heard all the horrible things you did--”

           “Nice story, but get to the point, sugar.”

           “My point is that every story about you makes you out to be a monster. Which is a fucking lie.”

           “That so?”

           “It is. You are a psychopath sure, but you rely on fear to keep your power. That’s how you keep your hold over people.” Dahlia smiles softly. “That ends now.”

           His laugh, the one that’s haunted her family for decades, deoesn’y even make her flinch. “And they say bats have no sense of humor! Oh, you’re killing me—"

           “No, but my papa will.”

           “Your family doesn’t kill—”

           “See, you’re right to a point. But you messed up when you hurt me—”

           “Always take the weakest—”

           “I’m not weak.” Her even voice breaks, years of her family building her up spilling through. “You messed up by thinking that. Signed your own death certificate.”

           “I’m so sc—”

           Dahlia cuts his sarcasm short with a wave of her hand, “You’re going to rot here. For years and years and years. You will rot and die here. If you ever step foot out of thise building, you will die. Papa will make sure of it.”

           Metal creaks as he leans forward. “Bold talk for a blind girl, sugar.”

           She leans forward, “I don’t need my eyes to see through your bullshit.”

           Clicking her tongue, she walks to the door. The Clown scoffs, “Really? That’s it?”

           Dahlia doesn’t answer.

           “Hey! I know you hear me! Hear me better than anyone else!”

           The door opens and a guard’s gentle hand wraps around her forearm.

           “I’ll see you on the other side, sugar! Just you wait!”

--

           His leg bounces as he waits for her. Jason still can’t understand why she needs to see him. Looking up as the door opens, Jason sees Dahlia thank the guard. The bruises along her arms, face and chest make his heart ache. But she wears them with pride.

           “Papa?” Dahlia clicks her tongue, walking towards him. Jason opens his arms for her. She walks into them without hesitation. The shuttering gasp she gives has him hold her tighter.

           “You get what you need, Nina?”

           She nods, gripping his jacket tighter, sniffling, “Thank you, Papa. Thank you for letting me do this.”

           “Dahlia Noelle Todd, no one lets you do anything. You do what you want and always have.” Jason chuckles, kissing her temple, “I’m proud of you. You know that? No one could have done what you just did. Estoy tan, tan orgulloso de ti, mija.”

           “Te amo, Papa.”

           “Te amo tambien.” Jason holds her face in his hands. Where did that scrappy two-year-old go? The one who babbled to a stranger about her missing toy, who ran to his arms when he’d get home, who’d sit on the counter while he’d make dinner. When did this young woman take her place? Jason just smiles, “You ready to go home, Llama?”

           “Depends.” Dahlia takes his arm as they walk down the hall, pulling her sunglasses down, “Is Grace going to be there?”

           “Pretty sure she and Asha have a whole party planned for you.”

           “Can’t wait to see this dumpster fire.”

           Jason chuckles, “That’s my girl.”

[superhero-boogie]

They can't know. Part 2.

(Sup, people? It's the final part. Enjoy.)

Warning; Angst, Fluff, Cursing.

Request ; None. ( Requests are open.)

The noise of your feet repeatedly hitting the floor was the only sound on the desert Batcave while you waited for Babs. You were at the edge; the anxiety making you sweat when you finally heard her motorcycle. She parked next to you taking out the helmet and fixing her hair.

- Can you please hurry? It is a kind of emergency. - You begged.

- Sure, the emergency. - She got off the bike. - The reason you can’t tell me why I need to hack Tim’s computer. And do what again?

- Erase all the camera records since last week. - you promptly answered.

She shook her head, giving a tired sigh before hugging your side.

- Okay, crazy girl. Lead the way.

You took her to Tim’s laptop and waited while she got ready.

- If you keep looking over my shoulder while I work I will kick your ass.

- I’m sorry. I won’t bother anymore.- You backed off - Do you want something to drink?

- Now we’re talking, sweetie. Can you bring a glass of water, please?

You nod, walking out of the cave through the stairs. Your heart calmed down knowing Tim couldn’t figure your relationship out anymore, and since you were vague about the records Babs didn’t know what to look for.

Grabbing your phone you called Wally.

- Hey, babe, can we talk later? - He whispered.

- Of course! Is everything okay? -

- Everything is fine, I have to go, okay?

- Okay, by...- You heard the call end.

You thought that was odd, Wally always answered your calls or leave a message about why he couldn’t talk.

Looking at the dark screen of your phone you mind raced of all the reasons he couldn’t answer your call. Maybe he was at some mission you didn’t know about, Wally could be at some meeting or somewhere phones weren’t allowed. Or, the possibility crawled inside your mind, he could be with someone. Maybe he finally grew tired of a half relationship with you and went looking for a new, fully, one.

The feeling of someone squeezing your throat came back and suddenly you couldn’t breathe anymore. Taking deep breaths you leaned against the wall and sat on one step hugging your legs, your head on your knees.

- Miss Y/N? Are you hurt?

Looking up you saw a worried Alfred.

- Nope, just got tired half of the way up. - Your voice was hoarse so the attempt of a pun didn’t work out.

Alfred sat next to you without saying nothing, and you rested your head on his shoulder.

- Alfred? - You called with a small voice.

- Yes, Miss Y/N?

- Would you be upset with me if I lied to you?

- I may assure you, Miss, nothing you could do would upset me.

You went silence again thinking about what he had said.

- And the others? Do you think they would?

Alfred seemed to think about your question.

- You have to understand, Miss, that this family has been gone through a lot, but no matter what they’re still are a family. And for best or for worse, you’re part of it.

- So... What you’re saying is... Maybe? - Your laugh a little.

- I’m saying that you should trust everything will end up fine.

-... Thanks, Alfred.

- Well, let’s go now, it’s not proper for us to sit on the floor.

With your heart lighter you continued your way.

XXX

If you were honest with yourself you knew you wouldn’t stay at the party. You never were a YJ member, so your plan was to say hi to everyone, grab Damian and watch movies. You definitely didn’t want to be a bother especially because that was a time for your brother and your boyfriend.

This without mentioning that you didn’t want to face Wally, especially after thinking those awful things about him.

You were coming back from the kitchen after grabbing some snacks, your hair still wet from your shower, hoping no one saw you as you sneak your way to your bedroom.

But, of course, you weren’t that lucky.

- Y/N! Hey, how are you, girl? - You heard Zatanna call.

- Fuck - You whispered before turning around with a smile.

- Zatanna! Hey! I’m good. - You tried to be discreet even if you felt like everyone one was staring. - Listen, I can’t talk right now. Damian is waiting and I’m not really a YJ member.

- Why don’t you just say hi then? - You got a little frightened at her continuous stare at your throat. She wouldn’t strangle you just because you didn’t say hi, right?

- Well… You see…-

- Y/N. - A different voice said.

You turned and saw Wally with his arms crossed with a suggestive look.

- Wally! - All you could think was “Crap, crap, crap.” - Hi! What’s up?

- Can I talk to you? Alone? - He looked at Zatanna. And you turned to her as well begging with your eyes to her not leave.

- Okay, I’m going, see ya. - She winked not so discreetly at you.

You watched her leave until it was just you and Wally. Seeing no runaway routes you faced him.

- So… What do you want to talk? - Your voice was cheerful.

- Why were you hiding?

- I wasn’t! - You were.

- Please, Y/N. I know you. There’s something wrong? - Wally uncrossed his arms, his hand discreetly holding yours. - You know you can talk to me, right?

Seeing him worrying about you made your heart warm and heavy from guilt.

- I’m fine, Wally, really. I... I got worried about something stupid, but Alfred helped me out. - You intertwined your fingers together. - What did you want to talk?

He corrected his posture and released your hand.

- Yeah. Right. That. I almost forgot. - His face was dead serious without the hint of humor you were used to. - Answer honestly, please.

- Always! - You were starting to freak out again.

- Why don’t you want your family to know about us? Are you ashamed of me?

- What?! Wally, no! I would never...! - You took a deep breath. - Wally. - You put your hands on his cheeks. - Is literally impossible for me to be ever ashamed of you.

He held your hands still, his eyes looking fragile.

- Then why you don’t want them to know I’m your boyfriend?

- Honestly, in the beginning, I didn’t want my family being weird around you in case it didn’t work out. Especially because of Dickie. Then it worked out, and I knew we would never have a moment of peace if they knew and… I just wanted to keep you for myself for a while, but it was a giant snowball effect and I got scared that they would hate me if they found I lied to them for so long. - You held your foreheads together. - But if you want me to tell them, I will. You’re worth it, Wally. And if that means my family being mad at me for a while then be it.

- No, Y/N, not if you don’t feel ready y…

- What the fuck is going on here?!

You jumped apart, your hand going to your heart. Your brother gazed straight to your soul, arms crossed.

- J-Jason! ... Hi, buddy! You see; Y/N here was with something in her eye and I was... - You put your hand on his chest making him stop talking.

- No, Wally. That’s not right. - Wally observed in your eyes looking for any sight of hesitation before taking your hand.

- Are you sure, Y/N? You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.

- I am. I’ve told y…

- I’m still waiting for an explanation, Y/N! - You let go of Wally turning to look at your brother.

- Jay, can you please call everyone over? I promise I’ll explain everything; I don’t want to do it more than once.

He looked like he was having a stroke.

- Please? - You cut him when you saw him opening his mouth.

- I swear to god sometimes you’re just too much. - He angrily turned on his hills.

- Phew. That was close. - Wally messed his hair.

- You don’t tell me. You’re lucky my Dad doesn’t let him carry his guns around me.

- Why?! - Worry flooded his eyes.

- Relax, It’s not what you’re thinking. I’ll tell the story later. Now let’s go face the beast.

- Which one? - You laughed pulling him in the living room direction.

XXX

You were facing a little crowd, Wally tense beside you. Jason was quick and really took your word so you were not only facing your family but the whole team too. This without counting the people of Dick’s party. Your Dad’s bat glare almost making you back off.

- What is so urgent that Todd needed to take me out of my room, Y/N?

- Yeah, Y/N, tell us why the fuck I took demon spawn out of his room? Would you?

- Guys, shut up, let her talk!

You gave a grateful look at Stephanie.

- Thanks. Look guys I will need you to let me end, okay? Can you promise me that?

You looked at each one of them strategically avoiding Dick’s questioning eyes. Everyone nodded.

- Me and Wally... - You took his hand. - Have been dating for the past months. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, I truly am, but please don’t be mad at him. It was me who wanted to keep it a secret.

Wally smiled at you and you smiled back.

- We love each other and I would really appreciate if you don’t kill him.

- Me too. - Wally quickly add. You squeezed his hand and lifted your chin.

- Okay, you can talk now.

If anyone asked you it was right there when hell went down.

- The fuck?!

- What?!

- When... How... What?!

The YJ team awkwardly stood there, slowly leaving the room. Almost everyone talked at the same time until your Dad’s calm voice spoke.

- How long have you two been dating? - You bit your lip.

- Almost ten months now, right, babe? - Wally nodded.

- Just two more weeks.

Your Dad seemed to think and intertwined his fingers.

- Ten months?! That much?!

- Who cares, Drake?! - Damian turned to you. - Why him, Y/N? I thought I had taught you better.

- Is no one going to mention the age gap?! Seriously? No one?!

- Oh, shut up, Todd. Who are you to talk? - Damian said. - I want to know why she didn’t tell us. Don’t you trust us, Y/N? - Damian’s question hit you like a punch.

- Well, you guys aren’t exactly giving her time to answer, are you? - Everyone shut up when Cass talked. You stood there frozen, trying hard not to cry.

- Thanks, Cassandra. Guys, I swear we will answer everything. Just take it easy on Y/N. - He bent to whisper on your ear. - Are you okay, babe?

- Y-Yeah... J-Just fine.

The room got silent for some minutes.

- So... this probably isn’t the best time to say I already knew.

Everyone turned to Barbara.

- Wait, what?! - Your eyes could fall off for the much you opened them.

- Do you know how you asked me to erase the records? I got curious and did a face recognition of you on them, so I kind saw you guys making out.

- Yeah, since we’re confessing I should probably say I knew too.

- You too, Tim?! How?!

- Ahn... Barbara didn’t erase the videos from my second backup, and when I saw someone erase them I looked up. Also, sorry, I told Steph; she got curious about why she needed to take me out of the mansion.

- Okay, how many people knew? Raise your hand.

Zatanna shyly raised her hand.

- You don’t even live here! How?!

- Ahn... It’s best if I don’t say anything. Just... you know... - She tried pointing discreetly at her own neck. Suddenly you remembered you took a shower and put none makeup.

You put your hand on your neck as everyone looked at you.

- Why are you with your hand on your neck, sister? It’s not what I think it is, is it?

- You’re screwing my sister, West?! She’s just a baby! - Jason got up going in Wally direction.

- Jay, stop!

Dick and Bruce stood and grabbed his arms, Jason fought for a while before giving up. You looked at Dick, his eyes normally so expressive not showing anything. It scared the hell out of you.

- Y/N, Wally, can you come with me for a second?

You followed Dick, Wally arm around your shoulder as if he was trying to protect you.

- Listen, Dick, I swear we didn’t mean to. It kinda just happened. And I know she’s way younger than me, I swear I would never disrespect her. I’m not even her first! And…

- Wally shut the fuck up! You’re making worse! - Dick raised his hand shutting you both.

- I’m just going to ask two things. - He was dead serious.

You nodded.

- Do you love her? And you love him, Y/N?

- Yes, of course.

- With all my heart, Dickie.

- Why did you feel like you’re needed to keep it a secret from me?

- I didn’t want to disappoint you, man. She’s your sister.

- You didn’t need to. I want you to know that. I’m happy for you, but I want to clarify that I’ll be watching you from now on, so keep your hands to yourself, dude.- Dick looked very scary at that moment. - And I’m kicking your butt if you hurt her, okay?

Wally gulped.

- Clear as water, man. Hands to myself.

- Fine. - He smiled at you before giving you a hug. - I’ll calm things down, you guys wait a minute before coming back.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and hugged Wally, your head on his chest.

- France’s looking pretty good, now, huh? - His chin on the top of your head.

- Shh. Let me just hold you a bit more.

- I’m glad we did it though.

- Strangely, me too. At least we won’t have to sneak around anymore.

- Y/N, I think we both know that’s not true. If anything, we’ll sneak around way more.

You lifted your head looking in his eyes.

- I love you, Wally West. I know we said this a lot to my family, but I need you to know.

- I love you too, Y/N Wayne.- He looked at your lips, slowly closing the space between you. His lips met yours and you melted in his arms, your own arms going up to hug his neck, your finger on his hair. You slightly opened your mouth and Wally put his tongue on your mouth, you brought him closer making a harsh moan escaping.

- What the fuck?!

You jumped, a smile on your face.

[themandylion]

[fic] Stat Roll

Please enjoy this little story about a certain smol dragon’s boyfriend in honor of the first Saturday in May.

—

"You can help out in the shop Saturday, right?" is the first thing out of Jason's mouth when Tim sticks his head in at the end of the day. Normally he'd be a bit less snappy, but he's trying to get everything in order and he's already feeling frazzled even though he's still got a few days.

"Uh, but peewee game?" "Postponed until next week. I don't need one more thing to deal with along with everything else." Jason tugs the vacuum closer and does another pass by the used and discount racks. Honestly, he has no idea how the carpet gets so much dirtier over here than the rest of the store. "Wait, is something going on? I know Bart wanted to get together and do something for May the Fourth, but I told him I couldn't because of the peewee game." Jason stares at him. "Seriously? And here I thought you were the comic nerd in this relationship. Tim, it's the first Saturday of May." "Okay...?" "Free Comic Book Day." Tim blinks, then straightens. "Right! Any heavy lifting you need me to do?"

——— "Thanks again for doing this, Kyle." He honestly wasn't sure the guy would show up, especially since Jason hadn't offered him compensation aside from lunch and free publicity, but apparently his pleas hadn't fallen on deaf ears as he'd originally feared. "You pulled the guilt-tripping ex card and offered me free food, of course I wasn't going say no," Kyle says, dropping his bag under the table and plopping himself down. "Do I need to stay the whole day, or just a couple hours? Only I told Jade I was doing this and she wanted to swing by, finally meet you." "Er, as long as you can stick it out, really? I'm not sure how much of a draw you'll be, most of the customers skew on the younger side." Jason had asked Tim to put out word that the author/artist of the City Dwellers series is going to be at Knight & Page, but he has no idea if it did any good—the mysteries of social media are beyond his ken. "Sounds good. Say, speaking of meeting people, do I finally get to meet the mysterious 'Tim'?" Kyle waggles his eyebrows, because he is ridiculous. "Yeah, he's agreed to help out. He'll be back any moment now, just ran out to get bagels or something for all of us." Jason nods over at where Sin is getting herself situated at the free comic table, Charlie helping her straighten stacks. "He better hurry up if you want a chance to eat them before the masses descend. They're already starting to look restless out there." Kyle gestures to the window, where a small crowd has already gathered out front, waiting for the doors to open. "I don't know why they do this every year. They know I'm not opening those doors until 10 o'clock." "Ah, but what if one year you decide to open at 9:30 and that's the year they wait until 10? They'll never forgive themselves." Jason makes a face. "And now I'm once again reminded why I broke up with you. Ugh. I'm going to go check on Tim—don't you dare open those doors." ——— If the bagels are ever a thing, Jason never sees them. Heck, he doesn't even see Tim until quarter-past noon, when a pair of arms snake around his middle and a sharp chin digs into his back. "D'you know you've got a dryad hanging out at the signing table?" Jason glances over, sees the pretty woman sitting next to Kyle, and shakes his head. "That's just Jade." Who he'd finally had a chance to meet earlier, albeit very briefly before being called away to check the basement for extra stock. "Pretty sure she's not a dryad—she's dating Kyle, and he's completely mundane." "Yeah, no. Definitely a dryad. Her aura's all green, very pretty," Tim says. "Also, met your ex. Nice guy, cute butt." "How can you even see his butt, he's sitting down? Never mind, don't answer that." It's probably some weird magical thing that Jason has yet to learn. "Shit, I can't believe she's a dryad. Don't magical types generally stick to dating other magical people?" He hopes this isn't going to come back to bite Kyle in his apparently cute rear end. Kyle likes Jade—quite a lot, from what Jason's gathered—and he deserves to catch a break with his love life after the shit show it's been (and yes, Jason's including himself in that). "Love doesn't always follow rules. I started dating you when you were still mundane. And, actually, there's might be some latent potential in him—two potentials hooking up, one of them later going on to date a dragon, the other a dryad? Magical people tend to gravitate towards one another, sometimes without even realizing it." Tim pulls away slightly, allowing Jason to turn and slip an arm around his waist. "Well, in the case of me and Kyle, it was more we had a really good time in bed nearly bit off each other's heads the rest of the time. I don't know if gravity even really factored into it, just two dudes being kinda horny for each other." "I really want to make a bad pun in response to that, but it wouldn't work on account my not actually having horns," Tim grumbles. "Oh, hey. Reason I'm over here aside from wanting to appreciate your very cute butt—it's nearly 12:30 and Kyle mentioned something about you promising him food?" "Shit, I totally forgot. Do you think you can handle things here if I slip out for fifteen, twenty minutes to get it? I'd ask you to do it, but I already know what kind of things he likes." "Go, take a break. Regain some of your last sanity," Tim says, giving him a swat. "Bring me food too?" "Of course." ——— He ends up getting enough food to cover the girls too because it's always best to stay on Babs's good side, and, after a moment of hesitation, enough for Jade as well. It's probably weird to want to make friends with his ex's girlfriend, but Kyle's still his friend and he wants to make a good impression. Laden with bags, he reaches gets back to the shop and finds he doesn't have a free hand for the door. Luckily, an older man quickly steps forward, opening it for him. "That's quite a haul there, young man. Are you planning to feed a small army?" "Feels like it, but no. I've got friends helping me out with something today and I figure the least I can do is make sure they get fed. Thanks for getting the door." "Not at all, I was on my way in anyway." Jason can't help the, "Really?" that slips out in response. He know he shouldn't be surprised that old people are interested in comics as well as young, but even his older customers are rarely as long in the tooth as this guy. "Well, I haven't been by since Hiram passed, so I figured it was about time." The man smiles, his blue eyes positively twinkling in the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the windows as he straightens so he's no longer leaning on his cane. For one brief moment there's silence, all the crowds vanishing and leaving the store completely empty except for just the two of them. Except it's not one moment—or, if it is, it's a moment that's stretching on for forever.

"Oh," Jason says a little dumbly, staring at the man.

"Hello, Jason, I'm Alan. On behalf of the local wizard circle, I'd like to welcome you to our little community."

"Who in the what now?"

"When my daughter said you'd eaten the egg, I figured it was past time for me to come see you myself."

"But, wizard…?" Tim made it pretty clear to him that wizards are not the type to be having kids.

"Yes, well. That's the curious thing about dryads, you know—they're plants, and not all plants strictly ascribe to one sex. Jade's other parent was a real character, lemme tell you!" The wizard laughs, clapping Jason on the back. "Come on, let's pull your friends into the time bubble. From what recall back when Hiram used to run this place, I'm sure they're all in need of a bit of a break before heading back into the fray."

[navpike]

cry out what you need to: chapter 4

“Okay, so, you know my partner, Amy Rohrbach? She died, on Sunday. And she had a daughter. She’s five years old and she had no other family and they were going to put her in the system and I just felt so--” “Dick, did you adopt the kid?” “I adopted the kid.”

Or, the one where Dick adopts a child, learns to balance parenting and superheroing, and falls in love, not necessarily in that order.

Chapter Four: so i’ll beat the drums and scream at the sun [on ao3]

Steph stays for dinner Monday night, and drives off on Dick’s motorcycle when they’re done. He gets Rona showered and put to bed, quickly as he can, and retreats to his own room, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. It’s the first moment he’s had, his mind not addled by exhaustion and concern for Rona, to sit and truly process the past week.

Amy’s dead. She’s gone, and when Dick goes back to work next week, he’ll be assigned a new partner, and life will move forward, even though Dick doesn’t want to. Rona has no mother now, no real parent, and as much as he can be there for her, and as much as he knows Steph, Cass and Babs will provide strong role models for her, Dick doesn’t know how to pick up the rest of the slack. He just started packing away his partner’s life, his closest friend outside of the superhero life, and in another day or two, it’ll be like she never existed at all, nothing left but a memory and a house for sale.

Dick does the only thing he can think to do.

He calls Wally, and he cries.

He cries out what he needs to and tells Wally every concern he has about his sudden parenthood and how worried he is about Rona and his lack of ability to take care of her properly and how he doesn’t know what he’s doing and how he feels like he’s unprepared to go back to work without Amy by his side because she was his friend goddammit. She was more than just a coworker, more than just his partner.

He takes a deep breath when he’s done unloading everything, and lets it out very shakily.

“Sorry. That was a lot.”

“Holy shit, Dick.”

“Sorry.”

“No, shut up, don’t say sorry to me! You’ve been packing that all away ever since Amy died? God, I’m surprised you’ve-- you Bats and your fucking-- Dick. Dude, you’ve got to talk about these things. If you have a kid to worry about, you can’t be worrying about falling apart yourself. God, you worry me sometimes. Just. You gave me the okay to tell the group chat what’s going on with you, and I did. Roy’s obviously no stranger to unusual parenting situations, and the rest of us are more than happy to listen to whatever you’ve got to say. Just talk to us, Dick. You’re not alone. You’ve got us, you’ve got your family, and Babs and Steph. Don’t think you have to be Mr. Strong and Silent. You’re not Bruce.”

It’s kind of like a smack in the face, but it’s just what Dick needs, really. He can always count on Wally for that. Something warm blooms in his chest and he has to actively fight to stamp that far down and way back. Now is not the time for this quasi-crush to be rearing its ugly head.

“I just hate bothering everyone,” Dick tries, but he knows it’s a thin excuse and he knows Wally will call him on it.

“Shut up. Talk to your friend like a normal person. I’m gonna hang up now, and you’re going to text the group chat. If there’s nothing from you in the next ten minutes, I’m going to drop everything and run to Gotham, got it?”

It’s just the right amount of guilt to get Dick to agree. He can imagine the smug look on Wally’s face as he mutters out his assent. Wally hangs up with a laugh after Dick calls him something very unkind, and Dick takes a deep breath. He doesn’t know if he can really handle the full force of all of his friends right now, but he trusts Wally, so he’ll go along with it.

He double checks that Rona is soundly sleeping in her room, steps in and smooths the wrinkle in her forehead with his thumb, and just as his ten minutes is up, he sends a text to the group chat he’s had on mute for the past week.

[from bird boi, 9:32 PM]

hey guys

[from wallington, 9:32 PM]

nice to see you listened to me

[from dad bod, 9:33 PM]

nice of you to let us know youre alive dick

[from mom, 9:33 PM]

I can’t tell if you’re saying his name or insulting him but either way.

Doesn’t matter.

Nice to see you’re not dead.

How’s the little one?

[from bird boi, 9:35 PM]

thanks donna.

she’s asleep right now. sorry i’ve been absent lately, it’s just been kind of a crazy week

[from mom, 9:36 PM]

You’re welcome.

And don’t worry about it. We understand. Just let us know what’s going on with you. Kind of sucks to have to learn you’ve become a father from Wally instead of from you.

Dick winces to himself, where he’s tucked himself into the corner of the couch, wrapped in a blanket. He let Steph tell Tim about Rona, and he let Alfred and Bruce tell Damian, and while it was necessary because he’s been so busy, he feels bad that he couldn’t sit down and have a conversation with either of them, especially Damian. He really kind of wishes that he had waited, let the ten minutes pass so that Wally would have come to Gotham, so that he could just have someone there with him, because feeling bad on his own makes it even worse.

[from bird boi, 9:40 PM]

i’m really sorry.

i’ve been kinda freaking out about all of this and the kid and i had to make funeral plans for amy.

sorry, not an excuse

being a parent is hard

[from dad bod, 9:42 PM]

be less hard on yourself dick, surprise parenthood is rough

just dont be stupid you asshole, tell us whats going on with you every once in a while

also, lians pissed off that she hasnt gotten to meet her favorite uncles kid so you have to deal with that now

[from bird boi, 9:43 PM]

that’s the scariest thing that’s come out of this week

side note: wheres garth in all of this?

[from mom, 9:44 PM]

Garth’s got Atlantis business most of this week, he’s going to be in and out.

But unlike you, Boy Blunder, Garth told us what he was doing so we’d know he was okay.

[from wallington, 9:45 PM]

okay, okay, ease up on dick, hes had a bad week.

[from bird boi, 9:45 PM]

thanks walls.

[from mom, 9:46 PM]

I’m done now.

I’m sorry about your friend Dick. And I’m sorry we haven’t been able to be there for you. Soon as that little girl settles in, you’ve got to let us come visit her. I didn’t think we’d be getting a new niece so soon. I can’t wait to meet her.

[from dad bod, 9:47 PM]

seconded. lian thinks she’s got a new built in best friend

and i’m sorry about your partner too

Dick smiles to himself, clutching the blanket wrapped around his shoulders closer to his chest. There is a deep, aching sadness still weighing heavy in his chest, making his ribs throb with it. Now that he’s thinking about it, that’s likely the month old rib injury he’s just beginning to really get over. But, he’s wallowing for a moment. So he’s going to be dramatic about it.

Sue him.

[from bird boi, 9:49 PM]

thanks guys

i’m going to try to finish clearing out as much of amy’s house tomorrow as i can before rona gets out of school. i did a lot with steph today but it’s harder than i thought it would be

[from dad bod, 9:50 PM]

jesus dick, that’s brutal. i wish i could lend a hand but i promised i’d help ollie with something tomorrow

[from mom, 9:51 PM]

I’m sorry I can’t help either. I’ve got meetings all day tomorrow.

[from bird boi, 9:51 PM]

no guys, don’t worry about it!

[from wallington, 9:52 PM]

shut up and let us worry about you.

youre our friend and we care about you and youre having a really shitty week.

[from dad bod, 9:53 PM]

yeah shut up jackass

[from mom, 9:53 PM]

Hey now.

[from dad bod, 9:54 PM]

sorry mom

point tho: youre not b, dont act like it

[from bird boi, 9:55 PM]

you know, wally told me the same thing.

[from wallington, 9:56 PM]

its the red hair, we all share a brain cell

[from dad bod, 9:59 PM]

i was gnona get mad but jesusnfuck walls i just lost it at that

[from mom, 10:00 PM]

Good lord you lot are like children.

[from wallington, 10:01 PM]

you know it and you love it wonder chick

[from mom, 10:03 PM]

You’re all insufferable and Garth’s my favorite now by default.

[from bird boi, 10:04 PM]

HEY! i haven’t even done anything!

[from mom, 10:05 PM]

Nope, you’re guilty by association because you’re here for all of this, you’re a part of this. Now I’m going to get a good night’s rest for once in my life, no one disturb me unless the world is ending, I have early meetings tomorrow morning, good night, heathens.

Dick turns his phone off with a grin and wraps it in his hands, close against his chest. The profound sadness that Dick had felt crushing through his chest feels a little less crushing now that he’s talked to his friends. They never fail to lift his spirits.

His phone buzzes again and he glances down at it to see a single message from Wally.

[from Walls, 10:10 PM]

good luck tomorrow, dick. we love you buddy. let us know when you think the kiddo can handle some new people and we’ll all come over with lian for dinner. you’ve got this daddy-o.

Dick almost cringes at the terrible nickname, half a wince and half a hysterical grin, and texts back a smiley face. He turns off his phone, and, checking in on Rona one last time, he heads to bed. He’s out like a light as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Unfortunately, he only gets a couple hours of sleep before he’s woken up by a tiny body kneeling on the edge of his bed. There’s a moment where he instinctively grabs for a weapon, for something to defend himself, before he pauses, thinking about what might actually be happening. The thought takes a moment to make its way through his sleep addled mind, but it does, and in the span of a few seconds, he goes from searching for some defense to his hand coming to rest on a tiny, trembling wrist.

He looks up, and Rona is kneeling on the edge of the mattress, her eyes shining in the low light filtering in from the small night light in the hallway outside the half open door.

She doesn’t say anything, just sits there, clutching Zitka the stuffed elephant in her other hand, and Dick sits up, gathering her up in his arms immediately.

“Hey, sweetheart, what happened?” he says, the concern evident in his voice. “Did you have a bad dream again, honey?”

She nods miserably, hugging Zitka close to her chest, and burrowing into his arms.

When she doesn’t say anything further, Dick settles down into bed a little further, holding her close. “Come on, you can stay in here with me tonight.” She nods again, her hair tickling the underside of his chin, little flyaways catching in the few days’ old stubble there. “Do you want me to tell you a story?” Another nod. Dick situates himself, half sitting, half lying against the headboard, getting Rona nestled into his side, partially draped across his chest. Her tiny hand curls into the thin material of Dick’s shirt, her face pressing into his side as she tries to stifle a sniffle.

“I miss my mommy,” she says, almost inaudibly.

Dick’s heart cracks.

“Well, let me tell you a story. Once upon a time there was a little boy, and he could fly. He and his family could soar through the air just like birds, and people came from far and wide to watch them put on shows. But then one day, while they were performing at a fair for a prince, the little boy’s parents had an accident. While they were flying around for the show, their wings stopped working, and they fell to the ground.”

“This story is too sad,” Rona sniffs miserably, and Dick holds up a finger, poking her on the nose.

“But it’s going to get happier, just you wait. The little boy didn’t have his parents anymore, and that was terribly, terribly sad, and he thought he would never be happy again, because he missed his mommy and daddy very much. He was all by himself for a little while, until one day, the prince who they had been performing for found the little boy. The prince went up to the little boy, and offered to give him a home. Now, the little boy was worried about going to live with the prince, because the prince couldn’t fly, you see, and the little boy thought that the prince would try to make him live on the ground all the time. He thought the prince would take away his magic, and take away everything that reminded the boy of his parents. So the boy was very afraid. But he didn’t like being alone, even more than he was afraid, so he went to live with the prince. And when he got to the prince’s castle, the prince was very formal, and had a butler and it was nothing at all like what the boy was used to. But after he was there for a while, the prince did not take the boy’s magic away, so the boy took a chance, and he started flying around the castle, because he missed it so much. He was flying around the castle one day, and the prince caught him, and the boy was afraid the prince would be mad, but he wasn’t mad at all. In fact, the very next day, the prince had set up an arena in the castle, so that the boy could practice his flying and get better at it, and get to be stronger, so that the boy would never have his wings stop working like his parents’ had. And the boy said to the prince, ‘I thought you were going to take away my magic, so that I’d be more like you. I thought you’d take it, so that you’d be my new dad.’ And the prince told the boy, ‘I’d never take your magic from you. You’re special to me because you’re different from me. I am going to take care of you as best as I can, and I will love you like my own, and you will be my family, but I will never try to replace your parents. We’ll be family in a different way. And it will be just as good, but it won’t replace what you had with them.’ And the boy kept his magic, and later on, when the boy got brothers, and a sister, he taught them his magic too, and the prince even tried to learn the boy’s magic too. And they all became a family, and they were much different from the boy’s parents, but he loved them very much nonetheless.”

When Dick looks down, Rona is drifting off, no longer looking so upset. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, and settles a little deeper into the bed.

“I’ll never take your magic from you, little one,” Dick mutters, and before he knows it, he’s drifting off too, cradling Rona close to his side.