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oldmannapping · 2 months

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Ficlet: Bodyswap (Dick-Jason and Tim-Steph)

Based on my own prompt, which wouldn't leave my brain.

This is a body-swap fic with only the awkwardness. None of the bonding. Just the weird uncomfortable parts. Okay maybe a little of the bonding.

Excerpt:

Across the Cave, a furious voice echoed off stalagmites and startled several bats.

“Why are you so HORNY ALL THE TIME?!”

An indignant, and equally-bat-startling voice immediately responded.

“Why AREN’T you?!”

It seems there was an impasse.

It’s a tale as old as time. Batfamily meets warlock, warlock fumbles a spell, warlock disappears in a cloud of smoke, Batfamily realises they’re body-swapped…

You know. That old classic.

WARNINGS: Mentions of menstruation, mentions of sex drives and sexuality, swearing

Across the Cave, a furious voice echoed off stalagmites and startled several bats.

“Why are you so HORNY ALL THE TIME?!”

An indignant, and equally-bat-startling voice immediately responded.

“Why AREN’T you?!”

It seems there was an impasse.

It’s a tale as old as time. Batfamily meets warlock, warlock fumbles a spell, warlock disappears in a cloud of smoke, Batfamily realises they’re body-swapped…

You know. That old classic.

Dick and Jason were glaring at each other. Themselves. Each other, in each other’s bodies. You've got it, it's not your first rodeo right?

It’s been three days since the unfortunate warlock incident. As well as Jason and Dick, Tim and Stephanie have also been body-swapped in a move that seemed particularly designed by the spell/universe to cause maximum rage to Steph and mortification to Tim.

Jason and Dick have refused to allow the team to be locked down because Fuck Off, You Can’t Tell Me What To Do (Jason) and Bruce For The Good Of The Team We Need Some Space Because If We Murder Each Other It Will Be Bad For Morale (Dick).

Bruce might have held out for longer but Alfred’s visiting family in England and without his arched brow of British judgement, Bruce tends to let his children pick whichever course of action seems like it will cause the least about of hassle to Bruce’s personal routine.

He didn’t love them in the Cave 24/7 either. He’s had to ship Cass and Damian off to one of his nicer safehouses because having to manage four moody, hormonal, body-swapped vigilantes was hard enough without the mental load of school pickups and packed lunches. He misses Alfred. He’s hiding in his office at the moment, getting more Wayne Enterprises work done than he has in years.

Jason and Dick, and Tim and Stephanie, have spent three days in each other’s bodies, absolutely not patrolling or going anywhere that they’re likely to be recognised, but exercising and getting coffee and generally behaving like prisoners on day release. Zatanna has assured them that these sorts of spells usually fizzle out after less than a month, so it’s just a waiting game.

Apparently, they are bored. Apparently, they’re getting on each other’s nerves again.

Jason, in Dick’s body, has just raked his hands through his hair and pulled it nearly hard enough to rip it out.

“Why are you so HORNY ALL THE TIME!?” he has bellowed.

Dick’s reaction is to pull Jason’s body to its full height in indignation. “Why AREN’T you?” he shouts back.

Jason is at the end of his rope. “Everyone you see!” he says, pointing a finger at Dick. “I was just going for a fucking RUN. I just wanted some exercise, because this fucking body can’t go three minutes without goddam MOVING. And it just wouldn’t SHUT UP.”

He’s so mad. He continues: “This fucking body checks out EVERYONE. You’re constantly just sizing people up and thinking about boning them. ALL THE FUCKING TIME.”

Dick is also mad. “That’s not true!” he rebuts. “I notice people! We’re trained to be observant! Yeah, one of the things I notice about them is attraction. That’s NORMAL. That’s what people DO. At least I’m not thinking about the best ways I could incapacitate some poor 15-year-old barista.”

Jason flares Dick’s nostrils. “I do NOT think about hurting kids.”

Dick scoffs. “No, you think about hurting EVERYONE. Everyone you see is a threat. How could I take this person down? Am I stronger than this person? Is that lady hiding a gun in that baby stroller? All day long! You think that’s normal? You think that’s better than noticing if someone’s attractive?”

“It’s more fucking useful, especially in our line of work. You think you’ll ever save the day with a heroic boner?”

“Oh my god stop talking about it!”

“I wish I could stop THINKING about it! I had to SHOWER in this goddam body. Do you know how hard it is to ignore someone else’s boner in your shower? I nearly punched myself in the dick, pun fucking intended.”

Dick makes Jason’s teeth grind. “Do NOT break my penis.”

Jason points at Dick again like he’s a giant disobedient dog. “I will get your FUCKING nipples pierced if this body has one more hard on. I’m not fucking around.”

Dick flails Jason’s huge arms. His fluid, lithe movements look very out of place on a muscle-bound heavyweight. Almost campy. “I have literally ZERO control over that right now. You realise that right? You realise you sound ridiculous.”

“You’re the one who conditioned your body to be like this. Make it stop!”

“I don’t know if you forgot about this part of puberty or if you were just too busy being angry and emo and FARTING to notice, but boners are a fact of life, suck it up.”

“Firstly, some of us actually eat vegetables - YOU need more fibre in your diet, Grayson, don’t get me started on that – and secondly, sorry I didn’t condition myself to repress freakish amounts of lust. I must have been too busy DYING and being RESURRECTED and BRAINWASHED BY THE LEAGUE OF ASSASSINS.”

“Oh my god WE GET IT, YOU DIED. You cannot use that to win every argument. Stop being so angry in my body, I can feel how gross and grouchy yours is all the time and I don’t want you infecting mine.”

“That’s funny, since I’m probably keeping your body the cleanest it’s been since you were fifteen, you horny maniac.”

“There’s a difference between feeling attraction and acting on it! It’s NORMAL to notice people in a sexual way! Don’t shame me!”

“Stop saying ‘attraction’, this is not attraction, this is Ivy-level mind-fogging crotch-throbbing run-ruining-“

“Just because all YOU think about is violence and murder, don’t get mad at me for having a sex drive!”

“I’m not mad at you for having a sex drive! I’m mad at you for making ME have your sex drive!”

“I didn’t cast this spell!”

“I know!”

“There’s nothing wrong with being sexual and expressing it with whoever I want, as long as they’re consenting!”

“I know! I support you! I couldn’t give a fuck who you bone and I don’t want to think about it, but I support it!”

“Good!”

Steph and Tim are standing a few feet away, watching hypnotically. Steph uses Tim’s bony elbow to nudge him in her ribs. She whispers something to him and he snorts a laugh, then freezes.

“Um,” he says in Steph’s voice, expression tight. “I think you might need to teach me how to use a tampon. Or, uh. Sanitary pad. Whichever you’re most comfortable with. Or. Um. Maybe your body just peed? Many women develop incontinence after childbirth, so it’s fine, I just. Uh. I just want to know what I’m dealing with here.”

Steph gapes at him. “Jesus fucking Christ.” She grabs her phone and swears when the fingerprint ID doesn’t work. Jabbing in her PIN, she swipes to her period tracker app. “Fuck. Un-fucking-believable.”

Ten minutes later, Steph and Tim emerge from the Cave’s bathrooms with grim expressions, not meeting each other’s eyes.

Tim, valiantly trying to remain scientific, offers, “I didn’t know it smelled different than normal blood.”

Steph digs Tim’s nails into his palms. “Stop talking.”

Tim cannot stop talking. “I just mean. I’ve been around a lot of blood, but never, you know. That kind of blood. And I never thought about how, in its basic composition, it’s not just blood, it’s also endometrial cells and cervical lining so of course it would be different.”

“Stop. Talking.”

Tim is a nervous talker. “And also, good idea on using the gloves and applicator. That way I didn’t have to touch any, um, you know, touch your, touch you when I was doing the. Yeah. Not that it would be gross or bad to touch you, I mean. You’re very. Great. And women are. So brave. Every month. But it’s just. You know. It’s not. I mean you consented, but in this situation, is it really consent, since this whole thing is kind of coercive, since you don’t REALLY have control over your-“

“SHUT UP!”

Dick and Jason raise their heads like meerkats from where they’ve ended up facing off with their phones, stubbornly shout-reading each other google search results for “normal male sex drive” and “how do I know if I’m asexual”.

“Everything okay over there?” asks Dick, Jason’s deeper voice carrying easily across the Cave.

“Fine!” say Steph and Tim in tandem.

“Totally natural and normal!” adds Tim helpfully. “We’re totally comfortable. We’re blossoming. We’re very healthy.”

Steph groans. “I cannot believe I used to date you.”

Part Two

#batfamily headcanons #red hood #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batfamily #nightwing #tim drake #stephanie brown #batman fanfiction #bodyswap au #asexual jason todd #not asexual dick grayson #sexually-ambiguous jason todd #sex-positive Jason Todd

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makethatelevenrings · 2 years

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Invisible // B. Wayne x f!reader

Requested? Yes!

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT MINORS DNI, praise kink, sex toys

Summary: It seems like nothing you can do is right or valued. Your husband makes sure you know you’re loved.

“The Princess of Gotham,” tabloids declared. “Wayne’s woman.”

You hated the attention, especially the focus on your relationships rather than your work. To the public, you were the one who reformed notorious playboy Bruce Wayne to settle down. To the Justice League, you were Batman’s guiding compass and the only one able to wrangle all of the Gotham vigilantes.

Every detail about you and your family’s life was under constant scrutiny from the press and the public. You couldn’t even go to the grocery store with Alfred anymore without someone taking a photo and posting it on the internet criticizing your clothes and hair. You were exhausted, but you had an easy job. Your family were under the microscope of paparazzi by day and being beaten down by the criminal underworld of Gotham and Bludhaven at night.

You felt guilty by your frustration and frustrated by your guilt. It was a constant cycle of never being good enough. While you excelled with one kid, you failed another. Where you shone in one spot of the press, you faltered in another.

That frustration and guilt is why you found yourself aggressively beating the shit out of some eggs in the kitchen. Alfred sat at the table with a newspaper in hand, his eyes occasionally flickering to where you were making pancakes. Your wrists ached from the sheer amount of pancake batter you had made, but you had to make sure it would be enough for a small army because curse your family’s insane metabolism.

You were so engrossed in your work that you didn’t even hear footsteps enter the kitchen until a voice spoke up.

“Uhhh…Alf? You okay?” Tim asked. “Why aren’t you cooking?”

“Mistress Y/N insisted on making breakfast this morning and I agreed to the welcome break.”

“Hi Timmy,” you greeted. “Coffee pot’s full and I set out your favorite mug.”

He eyed you suspiciously but headed over to pour himself a cup regardless. As you were pouring batter onto the griddle, more people started piling into the kitchen. You tried to keep up with the food specifications you remembered. Strawberries for Jason, whipped cream and chocolate chips for Dick, waffles for Steph instead of pancakes, the list went on and on. By the time Bruce came downstairs, you had pancake batter smeared across your forehead and flour all down the apron you were wearing.

“Morning?” His greeting sounded more like a question as he bent down to press a kiss to your cheek. You let out a noncommittal hum and handed him a plate with a towering stack of pancakes.

“You have a meeting with Lucius at nine, a tour of the updated children’s wing of the hospital at eleven, lunch at one with Amanda Waller, a meeting with Lois at three to give her quotes on a story, and Tim and you need to discuss the next gala preparations with the design team at some point today,” you rattled off. “I made sure everyone’s calendars were updated and you will get notifications fifteen minutes before an event.”

The table fell silent and you looked up to find many, many concerned vigilantes staring at you. You flipped the last pancake up and onto a plate without even looking and set it in front of Alfred, pointedly ignoring the magazine he had traded out when Bruce snagged the newspaper from him. The front page cover was detailing your fashion fails of the year instead of the thousands you had raised and donated for Arkham reforms and better research into mental health.

“Alright, then. I need to go shower and get ready for the day,” you announced. You brushed the dirt metaphorically, and literally holy shit that was a lot of flour, off of your hands, hung your apron up on the wall hooks, and flitted out of the kitchen without another word.

“Did she…did she even eat?” Duke asked. Bruce lowered his coffee from his lips and his eyes narrowed as he thought over the question.

“Alfred, did Y/N eat before she cooked breakfast?”

“No, Master Bruce, I believe she did not. She was entirely focused on serving breakfast this morning. It appears, sir, that she is feeling as though she has something to prove.”

The world’s greatest detective took in the crime scene around him. Frantic morning cooking, making sure everyone had their favorite food, schedules memorized…his gaze drifted to the magazine in Alfred’s hands and it all clicked into place.

Bruce shoved back from the table and stood. “Alfred, cancel my meetings for the day unless someone else can take them. I have something I need to do.”

“Right on, sir. Took you long enough.” The last part was muttered and Bruce didn’t even have a retort for that. Alfred was right, as usual. His wife felt like a burden and he needed to prove that she wasn’t.

You took a longer than normal shower, but it was still under twenty minutes. There might have been a few tears shed. You were just bone tired and didn’t know how to fix it. It felt like nothing you did was ever enough.

Sliding on the short, silken robe Bruce had bought you once, you entered the master bedroom and paused at the sight of your husband seated on the bed.

“You’re supposed to be heading to work right now,” you pointed out.

“Tim is handling the business side of things. Dick and Jason are going to the hospital wing opening, Cass will handle Waller.”

“Okay…did something happen? JL business? Rogue attack?”

“No.”

You tossed your pajamas into the dirty clothes hamper in the massive closet attached to the master bedroom and turned to lean against the doorframe. You were fully aware of the silken fabric rippling across your skin and the heat of his gaze as he traced the lines of your body. Bruce held his hand out for you and, like he was gravity, you approached the bed and slid your hand in his.

“Have I told you recently how beautiful you are?” he murmured. One of his hands slid down to rest at the hem of the robe. It brushed just barely over the tops of your thighs and his fingers dug into the sensitive skin there, pulling you closer so his face was nearly level with your stomach.

“Every part of you,” he said. Bruce slid his hands along the back of your thighs, over the swell of your ass, and up your back before he moved to caress your stomach. He drew his hands along your skin to the front of the ties of your robe. Slowly, carefully, as if unwrapping a fragile present, he undid the knot and slipped the sleeves down your arms.

The robe dropped to the floor, pooling at your feet in a puddle of silken barrier. You were nude before him, a sight he had seen many times, but this felt different. Bruce tilted his chin up to gaze upon you like you were the moon and he was seeing the night sky for the very first time.

“Your brilliant mind,” he breathed, brushing one hand over your temple. You shuddered against his touch, your eyes falling shut as your heart swelled with affection.

“Your beautiful smile.” A touch against your lips. One of his fingers slipped between your lips and stroked along your tongue. You hollowed out your cheeks and sucked along his calloused finger before releasing it with a pop, eliciting a groan from him. He dragged his hand down to your neck, his fingers enclosing lightly around your throat as your own personal collar.

“Your voice. Hearing you speak about reforming the city or talking about the kids or chewing out idiots is so incredibly hot.” The hand slipped lower to rest on your sternum and he leaned forward, his lips capturing one of your nipples. You ran your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck and arched your chest against his warm tongue. He chuckled low in his throat as he licked, sucked, and lavished attention on your breast before breaking away to do the same to the other.

“God, I love your tits,” he rasped once he pulled away. You were panting by now, ache and need pooling between your thighs. Your mouth opened in a broken moan as his hands slid lower…almost there…almost… his hands left your body.

He hummed, pleased with himself as you whined at the loss of contact. Bruce grabbed your ass and he swiftly spun you around and laid you out onto the bed. His strong hands held your thighs apart and he gazed at your core with a fire burning in his eyes.

“I love the pretty noises you make and how wet you get for me and how good you squeeze around my cock. Because you’re my best girl. So good for me. Perfect.”

He punctuated his sentence by flattening his tongue and licking a stripe up your cunt. One of his hands left your thigh and reached off to the side, but you were too busy thinking about the sheer heat that burned in your veins to question his actions until the small bullet vibration touched your clit and sent sparks through your fucking toes. You yelped, high and breathy as the vibrator dipped lower to sop up some of your juices and then returned back to your bundle of nerves.

“The best part is that only I get to hear those noises,” he praised. “Only I get to pull you apart and put you back together. I love you, Y/N, and I don’t say it enough.”

“Enough sappy bullshit,” you panted. “Stop being a fucking tease and let me come.”

You could feel his grin against the thin skin of your thigh as he plunged a finger into your weeping pussy. The thrust of his finger coupled with the constant vibration had waves of pleasure crashing over you in a matter of minutes. Bruce pressed a kiss stained with your juices against your thigh and then leaned his temple against your inner knee, gazing up at you.

“It’s easy to feel invisible when the world is focused on what they can see,” he said. “But what they don’t see is the person holding us all together.”

You blinked past the burning of tears in your eyes and flapped a dismissive hand at him. “Give me two more of those and then we can talk.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne smut #batman imagine #batman x reader #batman smut

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insertcoolusernamehereee · 6 months

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The Wayne Family is a mess

Dick:-

Parental figure is Bruce, but calls Clark ‘dad’ sometimes just piss Bruce off <3 (Ignore Gotham War, Ignore Gotham War)

Favourite sibling is he doesn’t have one :3. Okay, he likes Jason a teeny bit more, but he’s pretty fair to all of them.

He sees Damian as his son, but they both refuse to acknowledge it completely. They’re comfortable with how they are now.

He is SO older sister coded. Feels like he is responsible for everyone, and tries to hide when he’s mad/sad, but most of the time his siblings force him to tell them how he’s feeling.

Him and Cass CONSTANTLY exchange ‘I swear to god, these losers’ looks when everyone is fighting/doing something stupid.

While his favourite is Jason, and views Damian as a son, he spoils Tim and Duke HORRENDOUSLY.

Him and Steph gossip about different celebrities 24/7

Is currently dating Babs :3

Him and Selina have more ‘friendsies’ relationship, than mom-son type relationship. When one of them get into a argument with Bruce they start slandering him SO BADLY.

Jason:-

I can hear you guys from on the other side of my screen, but him and Bruce are not on Father-Son relationship stance right now. Bruce sees him as a son, but he doesn’t view him as a father (anymore). But he can talk to him without fighting now. (Ignore Gotham War, Ignore Gotham War)

Favourite siblings are Duke, Cass and Tim. Because yes. He makes it obvious too lol.

Dislikes Damian, but helps him get away with shit just to give Bruce grey hairs.

Jason ‘I hate modern technology’ Todd

Him and Dick teaming up give people HEADACHES. If Bruce/Alfred want to scold them, they MUST be separated.

Stephanie and him are besties and bully Tim mercilessly, since he luvs to steal everyone’s friends. (Damian ur next)

He gets Alfred presents on both Father’s Day and Grandfathers day, and everything in between.

Spoils Cass tbh. It’s all with Bruce’s card, but what people don’t know won’t hurt them :D

He is constantly like ‘Selina u can do SO much better’ but he does like her. Just not as strong of a relationship.

Cass:-

100% Views Bruce as a father figure. Hates David Cain, and just does not care about Lady Shiva.

Favourite sibling is Tim, and is best friends with Stephanie.

People constantly think that Damian and her are biological siblings, so when they ask, she looks them dead in the eyes and tells them ‘He’s my dad’. It gets the reporters confused every time.

Obnoxiously acts like a little Angel, but everyone knows she’s not. “Cass. We all know you crashed the Batmobile. No, you smiling will not change my mind. Yes, your smile is very pretty, BUT STILL.”

Her and Dick are forced to be the responsible ones when everyone is hanging out. With Cass in charge of Dick, and Dick in charge of Cass. It oddly works out.

Loves spoiling Damian, it’s getting concerning. In turn, Damian’s pets love her.

Stephanie spills tea about EVERYONE to her. Even about her classmates, who Cass has never even met. Fake dating Steph as well so that nobody tries to flirt with her during galas, and to explain why Steph is so close with the family.

Babs is a major role model in her life. When Cass needs advice, Babs is the first number on her phone.

She loves Selina. But sometimes doesn’t trust her. Otherwise, she approves of Batcat :) Not that strong of a mother-daughter relationship, but she buys Selina a gift for Mother’s Day, just because she can.

Tim:-

Yes, he does view Bruce as a father figure. He also still views Jack as a father figure but he’s dead now <333 As for Janet…she’s a complicated situation.

Favourite siblings are Dick and Cass. He’s besties with Stephanie, basically tells her almost everything.

Both him and Damian are petty, so they trade insults a lot, but it’s more bantering than fighting lol. They do go out to places together, but they are always acting like they are forced to, or that they would be anywhere else (even though they like hanging with each other)

He will not stop with the ‘middle child’ jokes. He will purposefully make Bruce ignore him just so he give a long monologue about being the middle child. He will then ask Bruce to give Damian up for adoption to redeem himself. Damian is still here :D

Cass is Tim’s wingman. (Which is why it took so long for TimKon/Timber to get together)

Tim gives the best Christmas gifts, followed by Damian. This is mostly because he’s a STALKER.

He likes Babs a lot, but acts like a CHILD, because she’s better at hacking than he his and therefore she stops him from doing a few things. He threw a tantrum once when she activated CHILD-LOCK on his computer.

He adores Selina. Sometimes suspicious of her, but mostly trusts her. Selina spoils him, Duke and Damian to no limits.

Stephanie:-

Bruce is NOT her parent figure, but she still views his kids as her siblings. Crystal is her mom, she does not consider Arthur her dad.

Favourite siblings are Damian and Tim, Cass and Jason are her besties.

When Jason is mad at the family and going someplace without telling them, he only tells Steph where he is going.

Once, Tim asked how they were her siblings when Bruce or Selina aren’t her parents, so she declared that Talia was her other mom, and made weird stories connecting each of them :D

Cass knows ALL of Steph secrets, because Steph keeps venting to her 24/7.

When Tim and her are together, they start collectively working on a singular brain cell, making the other person next to them having to be the responsible one. On one memorable occasion, it turned out to be Damian.

Stephanie, Dick and Tim love stalking there siblings when they get a date. Just for fun <333. Stephanie and Dick however are the quote on quote ‘embarrassing parents’ energy when it comes to dates. (Tim and Duke are pretty chill when it comes to dates, Bruce, Damian and Jason are the ones who do the shovel talk, and Cass is just staring at you menacingly during the first family dinner.)

Stephanie and Duke are the ones who sneak off to do underage drinking. Tim and Jason are the ones trying to stop them LMAO.

Stephanie likes Selina a lot. She is constantly pestering her to let her see Harley and Poison Ivy. Selina let her one time, and they caused SO MUCH chaos. (Steph is Selina’s second favourite)

Duke:-

He doesn’t see Bruce as a father figure fully yet, but he does love him. He still considers his parents (minus the weird god dad) as his parents.

Favourite siblings are Damian and Jason. Because, in Tim’s words, he’s weird like that. Him and Damian go to movies every month, and we’re especially excited for the FNAF movie. (They LOVE FNAF.)

Duke is also super younger-sibling coded. If everyone gets super defensive of Damian, then he’s the one who can say ANYTHING and get away with it. As a joke, Jason starts referring to him and Damian as twins because when people ask who they’re ‘youngest sibling’ is, everyone keeps alternating between Duke and Damian.

At first he was downright TERRIFIED of Cass. Like he was scared to be in the same room as her. Now they team up to scare everyone else. (Duke is just recording, Cass does the scaring)

Damian only does ‘puppy eyes’ VERY rarely, and it works effectively every time. Duke? He does it for Every. Little. Thing. And most of the time? He gets it. Tim and Cass are the only one who can resist it. Sometimes.

Dick is Dukes idol. He wants to be like Dick in the future :3

Jason and Duke call each other ‘narrows’ and ‘alley’ respectively. Duke also does a lot of shit, just Bruce never finds out because nobody tells on him, so Jason is JELLY of that.

Stephanie and Duke have the most similar taste in food out of everyone else. VERY, VERY sugary. Nobody listens to them when they suggest to eat something. It’s too sugary.

Selina acts like Duke is her biological son as a joke to the press. The press still thinks it’s true. It’s downright hilarious.

Damian:-

Parental figures are Bruce and Dick, though they don’t acknowledge it :) (Ignore Gotham War, Ignore Gotham War) The relationship with Talia…is messy, to say the least.

Favourite siblings are Stephanie and Duke (because obviously???) They use there gremlin nature to a MAX to prank everyone else.

He is the most younger sibling coded person ever. He’s a little gremlin-demon, but if you mess with him, you’re messing with ALL OF THEM.

Upset that Tim and Stephanie broke up, and started shipping Steph and Cass (for shit and giggles, they are the type of besties who act like there in a relationship, and Damian knows this) and constantly asks Cass when she’s proposing so that Steph can be his sister legally as well <33

Constantly bantering with Tim, but they love each other. They just have weird ways of showing it :3

Dislike-Dislike relationship with Jason, but can and will team up with each other to ruin everyone’s day. They also don’t want each other dead ig :)

Only accepts Babs as Dicks girlfriend. No in between. But he will respect Kori. Begrudgingly.

Respects Jim Gordon so much lmaooo.

Has learned the Alfred eyebrow raise. He is now tormenting everyone with it.

Selina is Bruce’s fiancé, but they have a ‘chaotic aunt, and chaotic nephew’ type of bond. Damian is 100% Selina’s fav.

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not-another-robin · 2 years

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Miscellaneous Alfred Pennyworth headcanons because he is immortal and you can't tell me otherwise

Alfred HATES musicals. Hates them. Especially Broadway, do not get him started on Andrew Lloyd Webber. He has a vendetta against the man not only because he thinks mega musicals are cheap schlock, but also for RUINING his son for a good 4 months after Phantom of the Opera came out. That shit was Bruce's MCR. he's skulking through the manner in a blanket cape with dark eyeliner playing the title song at deafening volume. Harvey enables him for months just to get on Alfred's nerves. Besides that, the batfam insists he doesn't like musicals as a genre because he can't sing. They are correct.

In my heart of hearts, Alfred was the OG 'finders keepers applies to wayward children'. When Bruce started working with other heros Alfred started checking in on them regularly, especially the ones who were far from home or lost their families. It's not uncommon to see Hawkgirl or Diana or J'onn at the manor when they're feeling homesick.

If a league member has at least one parent that's able to be contacted, said parent is invited to monthly get togethers with the rest of the league parents. They have a little club to talk about their kids. Okay it's more of a support group

If someone needs to be looked after due to sickness or injury and the league can't spare a team mate to do it, they're brought to the manor. Its no secret that most hope for this outcome.

It's a running joke that everyone, everyone gives Alfred a gift on fathers day.

One such Father's day the teen titans made "if lost return to Alfred Pennyworth" shirts for every batfriend (somewhere around 20+ people when alls said and done). They have a big group photo with them all, Alfred in the middle with a shirt that says "keep them".

Alfred watches soap operas regularly, and has seen every episode of Dynasty to date. Where he finds the time nobody knows, but he is knowledgeable on all the TV drama within the shows and behind the scenes. He has pretty ecclectic taste too, given he speaks a couple languages.

One time, while deliriously sick, Jason found him watching The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. All of the batkids insist this was some fever induced hallucination. They are wrong.

Alfred is a world class pot stirrer. There is so little of substance at the myriad of galas he has to attend that he makes his own fun, sue him. It's a leftover pass time from Martha's days - people were objectively cruel to her and gossipped at her expense often, so she returned it in kind. She was truly a legend in this regard and Alfred was her right hand man. They were experts at sewing seeds of doubt with a single comment ("Oh I'm so sorry sir, I assumed the woman over there was your wife") and watch the world burn, wine in hand. He missed having a partner in crime in that regard - eventually, Jason and Steph fill that role.

Bruce and Alfred have been locked in a decades long battle for Bruce's posture. He will go into shrimp position if given any opening and Alfred is determined to not let that happen. Idk if anyone else's parents did this, but Alfred is absolutely the type of parent to poke/push the small of your back until you sit up straight. He also does this for every batkid, even unofficial ones. Tragically it is too late for Tim.

Both Alfred and Bruce are fond of pen pals, though Alfred kept his up for much longer. He writes letters to his few friends back in England, to the Kents, various heros, he even manages to get mail to Themyscira.

To anyone under the age of fifty (excluding Bruce, maybe) his natural handwriting is completely illegible. Peak old person cursive, it is supernatural how his friends manage to read it. He writes very neat and very small, with very little space in between the lines. Its nightmarish. He does know how to write legibly for the sake of the kids, but his personal notes are practically in code.

Okay this one's a little out there - Alfred's posh accent isn't his natural one. It's natural now, since he's been using it so long, but growing up him and his family spoke in a more country/cockney accent - except for his mom, who had the more posh recieved pronunciation one. I've rewritten Alfred's entire backstory so bear with me She was the head housekeeper for a wealthy family, and she came from a more 'refined' area, so she carried herself with the more stereotypical fancy British manners. Alfred loved his mom, looked up to her more than anything in the world, so he adopted her mannerisms (and accent) whenever he could. He was teased mercilessly for it as a kid, so he stopped, but once he left home to join the military he fully adopted the persona to distance himself from his father and brother. The only time the original accent would slip through was when he was really, blindingly angry or upset, and only Bruce and Dick have ever heard it.

He has a flat within the manor, like a little apartment for his own space. It's initially sparsely decorated, but over the years it accumulates a borderline absurd amount of photos. Some of them are of him, mostly military friends, him with Martha and Thomas, or souvenirs from his theater days. The vast majority are his kids though. Pictures of Bruce from every stage of his life of course (the kids have a field day when they find them) and a smattering of pictures Bruce has drawn for him over the years, from crayon scribbles to charcoal portraits. The halls are lined with photos of the grandbats, many big milestones but also personal ones caught on candid camera: the first time Damian smiled while being hugged, Cassandra and Bruce playing bridge, Dick and Jason asleep after their first mission. On the wall at the end of the hallway hangs the old family portrait - Martha, Thomas, 6 year old Bruce, and him. Though he's not particularly spiritual, it's placement makes him feel like Martha and Thomas can see how their family has grown.

#batman #dc comics #narsposting #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batfam #batfamily #headcanons #i have. so many thoughts about this family so if this gets literally any feedback I'm doing it again #also if you wanna hear my entirely rewritten alfred backstory woof we'll be here all night but id still love to attempt explaining it ascrb

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gffa · 6 months

Text

Oh. Oh no. For the first time in my life pretty much ever I think I'm vaguely interested in a Batman vs Joker comic. This is a humiliating turn of events for me. It's never a good idea to get pre-invested in the potential of a DC comics storyline, that way only ever lies disappointment and "I don't know what I expected" because I should know better. But I can't help it! I took ten years off and came back to a DC that's better than when I left it! I have hope in my heart! And, for all that Gotham War ended with a whimper rather than a bang, I still can see so much potential. Imagine what a real shakeup of the dynamics in the Batfam would look like! I don't believe for a second that they'd do it, but imagine if they actually had Dick in the role of being the family leader, except as Nightwing this time instead of stepping into Batman's boots. He wouldn't want to be the patriarch in the same way Bruce was, but he's about the same age as Bruce was when Bruce adopted him, so imagine the tasty tasty parallels they could do with Dick suddenly in charge of a feral gremlin charge of his own (Damian), some actual support both emotionally and on the streets (Tim and Barbara), a team he actually would be able to call on for help when he needed it (Jason, Steph, Cass, Duke), that in some ways he has it easier than Bruce did, he's not as wrapped up in his own pain in the same way, but in other ways it's harder, he doesn't have Alfred, he has so many moving pieces that are all clashing and aren't necessarily going to listen to him (Steph and Cass and Duke aren't loyal to him the way he was loyal to Bruce)(and then there would be Jason's *waves hands* everything) and it would be out of his control that he'd feel responsible for and it would be a conflict between setting himself up in Bludhaven versus how Gotham still needs the team, not just Bruce being an asshole out there on his own--and god, running into Bruce, always wondering if he approves of Dick's style of leadership versus "You don't get a vote on whether to approve or not." There is SO MUCH that could be done with it! I can't help kind of being fond of the Gotham War set-up, because I like drama and I like Bruce's up and down character arc, and I like a complicated, sharp-edged Bruce who does inexcusable things because his brain is fucked up and lying to him, even when I know it'll disappoint me. But also. I was reading Batman #139 and oh, oh no, oh noooo, I'm interested in "Mindbomb" as a story--as a Joker story!--because it really is the perfect time for it, isn't it? Bruce has been overwhelmed for months now, he's in such a bad place mentally and emotionally that he's letting his fears of loss win and pushing his entire family away, he's doing horrible things to them because he can't handle loving them like he does, so he's separated himself from them, all while he thinks he's in control, but he's not, his brain is absolutely lying to him, and it's hissing in his ear to strip everything that Bruce loves away from himself and so that only Batman is left. Zur-En-Arrh is right there. "I'm in control!" Bruce screams in his own mind, all while Zur just rips through him and so easily takes over. Bruce has no control, he is so, so wrong about all of this, and oh boy the Joker is getting exactly what he wants, isn't he? No more annoying riff raff to get in the way or for Batman to care more about than him. No more Selina, no more kids, no more friends, no more loved ones--just Zur-En-Arrh, the most "pure" Batman in the Joker's eyes, now it's just the two of them. And that's everything Joker has ever wanted. And I don't want to find that to be an interesting extension of everything that led up to and during Gotham War, but crap yeah okay that's kind of a well-timed story when I look at it through that lens. I know I shouldn't get my hopes up, I'm going to be disappointed in wherever this goes, but dammit. The story kind of got me.

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #bruce wayne #joker #batman 2016 #tuesday spoilers

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im-not-a-l0ser · 4 months

Text

Another Ongoing Fic That I Need People To Encourage Me To Finish

5+1 Secret Relationship Michie Edition

This is much shorter than some of my others, but this chapter is complete in of itself.

1- Jason and Kyle

It was no surprise that Jason and Kyle were the first two to figure out that there was something going on. They didn’t get it outright, but they did know that something suspicious was going on.

Kyle was the first to realise.

“Hey, look, it’s Shit-Lips. Been a minute since he’s—”

“We should probably get to class,” Max said. “C’mon, I don’t want you two flunkin’ off the football team cuz your grades slip!” He said. He slapped them both in the back of the head before marching off.

“Dude, that keeps happening!” Kyle said, even as he began to walk to his first period class with Jason.

“What keeps happening?” Jason asked.

“Max keeps changing the subject whenever we bring up Richie! Anything about him, not even going to bully him, just straight gossip,” Kyle said. Jason shrugged.

“I dunno,” He said, “I’m not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. I’m glad Richie’s gotten away from it all. He really helped me pass geometry.”

It was true, Richie was the main reason that Jason didn’t have to retake the class. Ever since then, Jason had a soft spot for Richie. Not enough of one to keep Max from bullying him, but enough to not want to bully him.

“Max never does that shit though,” Kyle said. “Pete and Steph are straight-up dating, and he still hasn’t given Pete a not-nerd pass.”

“Max hasn’t said Richie isn’t a nerd,” Jason said, “He’s just stopped bullying him. And maybe it’s because Pete and Steph are dating. He hasn’t bullied Pete and Ruth since they started, or at least as much.”

“Eh, Ruth doesn’t count,” Kyle said, waving him off. “We stopped bullying her often in the eighth grade when she moaned after he insulted her.” Jason shuttered. “But Richie’s always been Max’s favourite victim! For three years straight, he said his name nearly every day we saw him! And, what? Now he’s suddenly moved on from that? Nuh-uh, not Max, he’s too much of a stubborn bastard.”

“If I hear anything,” Jason conceded, “I’ll tell you, but let’s not go snooping around, okay?” Kyle nodded.

“Right. You’re right, that’s smart.”

And they didn’t go snooping.

Not on purpose, at least.

Just after the football team left the locker room, Jason noticed that Max hadn’t come out. It’d been a couple minutes even, and he still hadn’t come out.

The game wouldn’t start for a while, so he motioned Kyle over.

“Max hasn’t come out,” Jason said, looking at the shower shack.

“Huh,” Kyle said. He’s the one who led the way in there.

There was no door, it had snapped off back in their sophomore year, when Max got so angry at the creaking noise it made whenever it opened, he kicked it right off its hinges.

“Good luck,” They heard.

“You’ve said that four times already,” They heard Max reply fondly.

“And you’ve yet to leave. That is your fault. You stay here and tempt me with your stupid face. I cannot be blamed for wanting to kiss my boyfriend ‘good luck’ before a game he really cares about.”

Kyle and Jason looked at each other with wide eyes before walking in and around the mini-hall that the doorway opened to.

“You don’t even like…” Max trailed off, noticing Kyle and Jason standing there with wide eyes. “Football,” He finished numbly.

“I knew it!” Kyle screamed at long last. “I knew there was something going on!” Richie stiffened, his hands still stuck to Max’s waist.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Max said to Richie quietly. “It’ll be okay, I got you.”

“Whoa, yeah,” Jason said, stepping to Richie’s side.

Richie’s jaw was tight and his lips trembled in fear.

“Richie, we’re not gonna do anything, we just thought there was something goin’ on,” Jason reassured. “Cuz, Max wasn’t bein’ a jerk so much.”

“Yeah, Richie, we don’t care about you two being together,” Kyle agreed. “I just like being right.” Max glared at him.

“See, we’re okay,” Max said. “Nothing bad will happen.”

“So,” Richie choked, looking up at Max with wet eyes. “You’re not going to leave me now that people know?”

“Wha- Richie, of course not,” Max said, sounding almost offended he would ask. “I just don’t want to get in trouble for liking guys. But first of all, they’re totally chill with it, and two, even if they weren’t, it’s not like they’re gonna get locked in my room for a week.” All eyes whipped to Max, concerned. “Not that that’s happened before,” He said, his eyes shifting between the boys.

“Okay,” Richie said. “I’m sorry,” He said, wiping his face. “I’m just being stupid then.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Max said. “I don’t wanna lose you either.” He pressed a quick kiss to Richie’s lips carefully.

“You guys are sweet and all,” Jason said, “But we should probably get out there.”

“Oh, shit right!” Max said. “Okay.” He kissed Richie once more. “I gotta go. I’ll see you after, okay?”

“Okay,” Richie said with a smile.

Max went out of the locker rooms, accompanied by Jason and Kyle, joining their team. Richie left shortly thereafter.

Max was a little distracted at the beginning of the game, but Richie cheering them along as Zeke definitely helped. Max knew that Richie struggled faking joy and energy, so it’d be easy to tell if he was still hurting. And he wasn’t.

It might’ve been Max’s best game of the season so far.

#nerdy prudes must die #starkid #richie lipschitz #max jagerman #michie #kyle clauger #jason jepson #secret relationship michie anyone?#i stand by the thing i said about ruth #that is a headcannon that i believe about her #jagerschitz

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thisiswhereikeepdcthings · 2 years

Note

So I was thinking about the Court of Owls (which I am only familiar with through the Batman vs Robin movie, and fanon) but I thought it would be funny to have a storyline, after Jason is publicly revealed to be alive, where the Court wants Dick, Bruce, Tim, and Damien to join them and skips Jason (cause they would be like that). And it's like that trope where one person finds out the reward/bounty for them is less than any one else. Jason doesn't want to be wanted by the court but still... rude. Also, if Jason had to team up with Steph, Cass, and Duke to rescue the other 4. Just sassing all the way.

Also

Jason: You guys want me, right?

Talia: Of course, sweetie.

Ra’s: Eh…..

Jason: Okay great. Mind if I get that statement written out and notarized for reasons?

#court of owls #league of assassins #Jason shows up at the court of owls to rescue the others and spends the entire time bitching about how the league is better #than the court of owls and has better taste obviously #batman #jason todd #bruce wayne #red hood #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne

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faytelumos · 1 year

Text

A small part of family dynamics that only just now occurred to me — stealing food off of each other's plates.

For Bruce and Dick, you can steal food off their plates all day. Neither one of them minds at all, it's just kind of a playful thing to then. Bruce has zero reaction, and Dick will sometimes just take food from you right back, but not always.

Duke I think would be pretty similar; if there's something there you want, and he notices you're eyeing it, he'll just kind of hand it over. He doesn't mind sharing at all.

You cannot take food off of Jason's plate. He will actually hit you. If he offers you something, that's 100% fine, but until he tells you explicitly what kind of food you can have a piece of, it's no-man's land. Stay back. Steph is very similar most meals. If she's out and about it's fine for you to ask for something off of her plate, but she doesn't like it when you just take.

I don't know much about how Cassandra was raised, but I get the feeling she's similarly protective of her food. I think she'd happily share, but she has to offer it or be asked first. She'll block you otherwise.

I think Damian would be extremely protective of his food at first. I would not at all be surprised if food was used against him at least once. But when he sees the way Bruce handles the situation, he tries to be okay with it. It's another thing he's working on.

Tim kind of just assumes everyone's food is everyone's. Especially with his team. He thinks the whole plate-ownership concept is kind of weird. As long as he gets enough to eat, he doesn't care.

#thanks for coming to my TED Talk #family food dynamics #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Stephanie Brown #Damian Wayne #Cassandra Cain #Duke Thomas

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i-talk-too-much · 2 years

Note

hi! first of all i really like your blog! second of all i have a request :) if you want to, could you maybe do a batfam x reader where the reader is a little bit under the weather and the team rally around to try and make them take the day off so they feel better? hope you’re having a good day/evening! x

hi!! im glad you're enjoying my blog :D this one's a little short but I hope you enjoy!

Batfam x Reader

Word Count: 577

Warnings: none

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

Achoo!

Your sneeze reverberated throughout the Batcave, causing everyone to look at you. You stiffened, feeling uncomfortable under the combination of their stares.

“Y/N, are you feeling okay?” The question came from Dick. Of course, he would ask. You glanced at him while scratching your nose and replied.

“Yeah,” you said, sheepishly. “Sorry, I guess the chill down here got to me. I’m good.”

You heard a snort behind you and a young voice called out.

“That’s a lie,” Damian said. When your brow rose, he continued. “You scratch your nose when you lie.”

At that, both your brows shot up. “What? No I don’t!”

A chuckle came from your right. You turned your head, facing Jason whose arms were crossed across his chest as he leaned against a table. “He’s right. You do.”

You scowled. That’s total bullshit! There’s no way you’re that obvious, right?

Another sneeze wracked your body and you groaned, knowing they saw through you now. Dick moved toward you and placed the back of his hand on your forehead, feeling your high temperature. The coolness of his skin felt good on your flushed face.

“Jesus, Y/N!” He dropped his hand. “You’re burning up, why didn’t you say anything?”

You shrugged. “Because it’s no big deal. I’ll be fine, it’s not too bad.”

“You need to rest,” you heard Tim say, him still typing away at the consoles. Now everyone’s joining the conversation? You sighed.

“I’m fine.”

“Spoken like a true Gotham vigilante,” Duke joked. He was sitting on a chair, his front resting against the back of it, his legs framing the seat.

You rolled your eyes. “Guys, I’m serious – I’m good.”

“What are you guys talking about?” You looked toward the female voice. Steph was coming down the stairs with Alfred in tow, both of them holding a plate of several drinks.

“Y/N’s sick and won’t take the day off,” Jason said, almost like a child tattling on their sibling. You shot him an accusatory stare. That traitor. Now that Alfred knew, you had zero chance.

You felt Alfred’s stare even as you avoided looking at him. He walked to the closest table with Steph, placing the drinks down before opening his mouth.

“Master Bruce, am I correct to assume you will not be needing Y/N’s assistance tonight?”

The man being addressed had half his body underneath the Batmobile, tinkering with something you didn’t understand. At the question, he shifted away from the car and sat up, his hands wiping on a dirty rag. “Is something wrong with Y/N?”

This time, Dick’s voice called out, “Y/N has a cold.”

“If that’s the case, then no. Y/N is not needed tonight.” With that, he returned to the car and continued with – whatever it was he was doing.

You groaned again when you felt Alfred’s hand on your shoulder, resigning yourself to being benched.

“Apologies, Y/N, but you will be getting some much needed rest,” he said, guiding you to the stairs. You shot one last look at everyone over your shoulder, hoping they saw the pure disdain in your eyes.

“I know where you guys live,” you attempted to threaten, but the force of it diminished when you cut off with another sneeze.

You heard their laughs echo as you climbed the stairs. The combination of their voices was the last thing you made out before you reached the top.

“Get well soon!”

#cass was at ballet practice #batfam x you #batfam x reader #batfam x y/n #batfam x gender neutral reader #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #duke thomas #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #barbara was resting as well

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batsandbugs · 2 years

Text

Bruce Wayne’s Headache Classification System Chapter 3

IKEA Verse

A/N: The author shows up a month and a half late, with Starbucks: S'up, here's 7500 words of pure chaos. Feast! Y'all are the best, thank you for the amazing comments in the last chapter. I love seeing your excitement for this crazy little world I've created. I have a new fic that I'll be adding eventually, called: "The Stalking of Daminette: A Treatise by Steph and Cass" it's still in its baby stage, so we'll see how long that grows before I post. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it because I have not started on the next part and I'm moving in less than a month, so maybe the next chapter will be out sometime in October, but I'm not making any promises. Enjoy!

Chapter 3

Bruce narrows his eyes and pins his children with an unimpressed stare. “What did you do?

“He was totally willing!” Dick insists with an innocent grin.

“Coercion.”

“Manhandling.”

Dick’s grin disappears evilly side-eyeing his brothers. “Both of you suck at being back up.”

“He didn’t want to at first,” confesses Tim. “But they held my computer hostage to convince me to agree.” Tim rubs a hand over the top of his laptop in a soothing manner. “So, I stole all his knives so he couldn’t stab us, while Jason and Dick wrangled him into the car.”

“Little demon was spittin’ nails, but we persuaded him not to throw himself out the car, so he was trapped.”

“By the time we arrived, I convinced them how a game of hide-and-seek would be a fun, non-disastrous way to spend time together,” says Dick, his face one of ruined hopes and dreams.

“Mostly through bribes, blackmail, and calls to our innate competitiveness,” says Tim.

“Dickie kept the keys so none of us could leave, and declared himself seeker first,” Jason continues. “He found me-"

"In the food court," says Dick.

"Then Replacement-"

"At the Starbucks."

"Didn't even get to have that coffee," grumbles Tim.

"So we joined forces and decided to search for Damian together. We spent an hour chasing him in circles. Swear I almost caught him too.”

Tim scoffs, “Yeah no, he had us good. We had no clue where he was.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Oh, shut up Tim.”

“You shut up,” Tim shoots back.

“Boys…” warns Bruce, already regretting bringing all three of them into this sitrep.

“Okay, so he evades us long enough to team up with a girl named Marinette Dupain-Cheng-” starts Tim.

Jason growls a bit. “Lying bitch.”

“Jason…” Dick sighs but doesn’t refute the insult. This only serves to deepen Bruce’s headache which now strongly veers out of the I-am-not-mentally-or-emotionally-prepared-for-this category and straight into Ongoing-dumpster-fire territory.

This was fine.

Jason slams a fist on the table. “She lied to my face multiple times! She said she was hired to poison Tim and Damian in order to steal Tim’s phone and if I didn’t find them in time, they were gonna die from brain damage!”

Bruce blinks. Did he hear that right? “Sorry, what?”

Tim sighs. “Okay, rewind, so Damian evading us like the little assassin he trained to be, hooks up with Marinette, who, as far as my research shows, is a civilian-”

“Yeah right, girlie ain’t a civilian. No way, not in a million years.”

“Shut up Jason, let Tim talk,” snaps Dick.

“She lied to Jason about where Damian was, and between her initial meeting with Jason and the incident in the food court, about an hour passed. Then she appeared in the cafeteria with Damian’s card, how we tracked her there in the first place. She panicked when she saw us and used her magic on the shelves in the warehouse to cause a diversion-”

“She crushed a fucking forklift, and we got blamed and billed for it.”

‘How?’ Bruce thinks in despair. Not over the money, of course. They had more than enough to cover costs, just in the general sense of incredulity. One would think, after being Batman this long, it would inoculate Bruce from bewilderment at all types of situations.

It has not.

Tim shakes his head. “No, I proved we had nothing to do with that."

‘Oh well isn’t that grand?’

"Didn’t manage to pin anything on her either considering how much electrical interference occurred whenever she performed magic, but we don’t have to pay.”

“Magic doesn’t cause electrical interference,” Bruce reminds them. “Not unless it completely breaks the system in the process.” All three boys – men really, his kids all grown up now, even if they pulled stupid shit like this – turn to him. Identical expressions of contemplation played over their faces.

“Shit, you’re right,” mutters Dick.

“Well, her magic does,” counters Tim, his brow creasing heavily, grasping past the sleepy, foggy haze that comes with being awake for three days straight. Grabbing a notepad he jots down the observation. “Her magic doesn’t obey any rules we know to be true.”

“It’s magic, dumbass,” Jason sneers. “It doesn’t have to make sense. I’m still on the fence about whether she enchanted Damian though. On one hand, demon-spawn shouldn’t be capable of smiling that much, and he defended her, deferred to her, fucking used her first name without blinking an eye. That ain’t natural for him. On the other hand, she’s the same brand of demented as he is, and maybe they want to be horrible little demons together.”

“I…” starts Dick before trailing off, his face flickers through a series of emotions. Mostly fragile hope, pragmatic disbelief, and good heaping of uncertainty.

“See, Golden Boy, even you can’t say this is a good thing!”

“He made a friend?” Dick offers with a pained wince.

“She’s a psychopath!”

Bruce cuts off the argument. As much as he would love to hear more in-depth detail about Damian’s newest… acquaintance, he wants a clearer picture of what happened at the store before he judges the situation. “Boys, behave. Tim, please continue.”

Tim nods. “Okay, so Marinette escapes the warehouse, and we track her back to their entry point into the vent system. We split up to cover more ground, I take the warehouse and keep myself from the worker’s sight but close enough to the vent I could spot them exiting. About forty-five minutes later they set me on fire-”

“Wait,” interrupts Bruce. “Fire? FIRE?”

Tim looks at him like he’s being particularly slow. “Uh, yeah, I said that a time or two now, keep up. To be fair, the fire was more around me. But I did end up singed.” He shows his arm sleeve again, and the singeing on the sleeve takes on a whole new meaning.

“I wasn’t sure what happened at the time, I expected to catch the little twerps, not engage in guerilla warfare. So, understandably, I’m off my game. The security guard dragged me into the office, and I’m ready to call for backup, only to find my phone missing. I talk down the manager in the warehouse, but then he yells at these poor workers. And Bruce, they were kids, couldn’t be more than fifteen, working in this busy warehouse with no clue about any rights they had, and then after the manager became… distracted I conversed with the other workers, and-”

Tim’s one-breath ramble was swiftly cut off by Jason. “Yeah, yeah you caused a worker’s strike through the power of charisma and rhetoric. So original. No one else in the world’s history has ever done that. Can we get back to the French bitch tricking me?”

Tim huffs, crossing his arms. “You can continue then because I wasn’t part of that.”

“Cool, I will. So, there I wait at my post, and it’s been like an hour and a half at this point. Timmy finally calls, but it’s not actually him it’s the French girl. She’s actin’ like a paid assassin slash company spy, and says she poisoned Tim and Damian through tricking them into eatin’ poisoned coffee and shit.”

“And you believed that?” Bruce asks. Jason glares at him with piercing green-blue eyes, and although his second son puts off an air of anger and annoyance, it’s a mask for a deep-seated fear that his brothers were genuinely in danger. That he would be too slow, too late to save them, like what happened to-

Jason flippantly shrugs his shoulders, years of practiced reticence covering his care. “With our craptastic luck, I sure as hell wasn’t going to take any chances. So, I go chasin’ and-”

“~It’s a trap~,” Tim gloats in a sing-songy voice, his grin wide and eyes unfocused. He’s going to crash soon, it’s just a matter of time.

“Shut up, you ended up set on fire and pickpocketed. You have no leg to stand on.” Tim rolls his eyes but slouches back in his chair. “So, it’s a trap, and demon-spawn is waitin’ there with one of those tricked-out trip wires Timmy made. He and Frenchie wrapped me up good, taunted me, and stripped me taking my wallet and phone. Bitch also took my knife. I insult the brat, and he fires back, but before he does anything else Marinette pulls him back and tells him to simmer down and he does.” Jason’s wide eyes drip with incredulity and, quite frankly, a little awe.

“I see,” Bruce says, a fake calm surrounding his words. He really didn’t. They were talking about Damian. Bruce loves his only biological son, he truly does. He loves Damian’s sketches, and care for animals, he loves his dedication to sword mastery and sly humor. The way his son has the same wrinkle crease between his eyes Bruce gets, and that Thomas did before them. The similarity soothes a small part of Bruce’s aching soul. He’s ridiculously proud of all the work and effort Damian went through, put himself through, to become a better person. To overcome the trauma his upbringing caused and come out stronger.

That being said, Damian was still arrogant, stubborn, and quick-tempered. He considered his opinions and plans more highly than others, and unless one could give a quick and compelling explanation as to an alternative option, he would be proceeding with his plan with efficiency; damn anything else standing in his way. Damian spared no sympathy to the average person and even less for fools.

This behavior was extremely out of character for him.

Which made the entire situation ring with alarm.

Jason shook his head. “I don’t think you do,” he says, calling Bruce’s lie out. “You’re gonna need to see it to really understand. Anyway, they leave me there for the police to find me, and the wire’s wound on tight, so I’m still struggling to get them off when security finds me ten minutes later.” Jason smirks. “Now those idiots had no clue who they were dealing with, and they loosened the wire round my legs, cause they sure as hell couldn’t carry me. By the time we reached the car I was out of the bonds and knocked one out and escaped from the other. Fat-ass bastard.”

“Language,” Bruce reminds him. Jason flips him off.

“Fine, the heavy-set bastard. Better?”

Bruce sighs. “Not really.”

“I scale the building, figuring the store entrances would be monitored. They had a nice handy dandy human-sized ventilation shaft up there - no wonder with the place’s fucking size - so, I shimmy down-”

“Like Santa,” Tim giggles, well past bordering on a manic state, and instead moved well into the capital of it.

The comment doesn’t appear to have fazed Jason though, who takes another long sip of his alcohol-soda mixture. “And like Santa, I have a knack for toys. I emerge out of a vent in the children’s toy area and snag myself a nerf gun.”

Sharp pain blooms on the side of Bruce’s neck. He doesn’t let it show on his face though. “Why?”

“Seemed like a good at the time, ya know?”

Bruce mentally counts to ten, takes a deep breath, and says, “Sure.”

“So, I head towards the play area to find Dick, because obviously, Replacement was a lost cause.”

“Geeze thanks, Jason.”

“But before I can get there, I spot Demon Spawn constructin’ a wacky ass Rube Goldberg contraption-”

Dick winces. “I saw the remains when I chased after Marinette. It was initially meant for me.”

“You were chasing the girl?”

Dick pouts. “She stole my phone!”

“Wait, so a civilian pickpocketed all of you?”

“She was quick,” mutters Tim.

Jason raises a finger. “She didn’t technically pickpocket me, she frisked me after tying me up. I was fully aware of the stealing.”

Bruce reminds himself that he can’t strangle his children. He. Can’t. Strangle. His. Children. “I plan to make all of you go through awareness training, again. A civilian!?”

“Still not convinced,” Jason mutters, crossing his arms.

“I don’t care she certainly hasn’t trained with assassins and spent half her life mastering stealth and deception. I expect better from you all.” All three men mutter in acquiescence, to the extent that they would do better. “Continue.”

Jason’s demureness fades to be replaced with a gleeful grin. “Yeah, there wasn’t much left of the trap after I jumped the little bastard. I started shooting-”

“Jason…” Bruce’s headaches gain a specific twinge of exhaustion whenever Jason becomes involved. It’s a talent he possessed since the day Bruce found him hi-jacking the Batmobile’s tires.

Jason’s hands go up in defense. “With the nerf gun, chill Bruce I ain’t trying to contribute to America’s public shooting crisis. I wouldn’t take a loaded gun into a shopin’ center unless crazies were already causin’ chaos.”

“I’d prefer you not to use guns at all.” It’s a pointless request, but maybe one day Jason would cede to it.

Jason scoffs. “Yeah, you’re still gunna lose that one pops. I got a rep to maintain.”

Bruce reigns in a sigh. Expected.

“Anyway, everythin’ was fine, I’d managed to dismantle their little trap for ya, you’re welcome,” he says with a pointed glance at Dick.

His eldest crosses his arms, and with a total deadpan stare, replies, “Thanks, Jason.”

“But then a security guard interfered after I knocked down a display or two.”

“So, you strung him up and gagged him?” Dick asks voice rising into the hysterical range.

Bruce now understands why Tim looks exhausted, dealing with the fallout from a situation this unhinged for the past forty-eight hours.

“No, I didn’t do that. Demon spawn already set the rig, waitin’ for you. The guard tripped it.” He pauses, cheese-covered chip in hand. “Although I did add the gag, he was shoutin’ too much and grabbin’ attention. It only took a second, but by the time I turned back, Damian had shot off like a rocket.”

“Don’t take your eyes off the target,” chides Tim, with a smug little grin.

Jason’s eyes flash a brighter shade of green. “Fire.”

“Shut up.”

“Boys…” Bruce warns.

“Fine, fine,” Jason mutters, as he takes another sip of his drink. “I chase him through the store and he’s barely keepin’ ahead of me. I keep shootin’ at him. Newer nerf guns have a range and a surprising amount of ammo. Bastard didn't even look inconvenienced; he takes a fucking phone call at one point.”

“That was when I was chasing Marinette and we found the remains of their plan,” Dick interrupts. “She panicked with the sprung trap and called someone, but I couldn’t hear a word.”

“Yeah, he jumps off the call when I manage a shot at his head, and I’m close enough to have him in reach. Unfortunately, he ducked into the employee-only entrance. We weave through security rooms and offices and shit, and of course, causin’ chaos there.”

“He was right there, and yet somehow, we’re the only ones banned,” mutters Tim.

Jason scoffs. “Yeah, don’t know how that happened. Pretty sure I saw him dump a pot of coffee on-” Tim groans in frazzled distress. “Bad Timbo, you can’t have any more caffeine until you take a goddamn nap!”

Tim slouches into the solid wood dining chair. “You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my dad.”

“Tim you can’t have any more caffeine until you sleep,” Bruce says.

Jason grins, sticking his tongue out at Tim, while Tim only glares and mutters something under his breath about ‘killjoys’ and ‘he’ll show them tired’ and Bruce really doesn’t want to see the result of that decision. This needs to wrap up soon. For both Tim’s sake, and his own as his headache has moved from Hassles-have-evolved-into-ongoing-dumpster-fires to Information-overload-caused by-dumbass-decisions-please-reboot-system.

“I get tangled in an office jam – literally, there were cords involved and by the time I scramble out of it, Damian’s already through a door and down a hallway. I haven’t a clue which way he’s gone, so I pick a direction and gun it because security is on my tail and there ain’t time to waste. I head down a hallway and lock the doors behind me to give me a second of breathing room. Then I spot the intercom system.”

“I wondered how you got close enough to use that,” Dick muses.

“I wondered what they did to piss you off so bad,” Tim adds.

Dick nods. “Same.”

“Yeah, so I call out Demon Spawn and French Bitch over the intercom, and I know they both must have panicked, but the guards broke through the locked doors, so I split. Now here’s the fucking miracle.” Jason leans forward, grinning. “I find the door that’ll take me back to the showroom area, the guards bearing down on me from all four sides. I don’t have a chance in hell, when the lights go off.”

“Blackout?” questions Bruce.

“Magic,” Dick says flatly. “It was Marinette.”

Jason slaps the table, snarling, “Damnit! Now I have to give credit to her.”

“She knocked out electricity to the whole store,” says Tim.

“And caused a display to collapse in front of me. I tripped,” admits Dick.

“You have fought off assassins while poisoned, and executed advanced acrobatic maneuvers with broken bones, and you tripped over a toppled Swedish store display because of the dark?” Bruce knows he’s trained his children better. Why in the world did this go so sideways on them?

Dick braces his arms against the table and roughly slides his fingers through his hair. ”I know. I know. I was right there. Any other day and I wouldn’t have blinked about jumping right over it, but this time it felt… off. Bad day?”

“You’re getting old Golden Boy.” Jason takes a sip of his drink, doing nothing to hide his shit-eating grin as he teases his older brother. “I guess it’s all downhill from here ain’t it.”

Dick flips him off.

Jason sticks out his tongue.

Bruce’s headache takes on a twinge of my-children-are-immature-brats feeling (generally categorized by a sharp sting right at his temple) and holds in an exasperated sigh.

“So, after magic girl shuts the lights off with her mind or whatever, I escape the security guards by an inch. One emergency exit later, and I’m back in the store proper. People are freakin’ the fuck out about the lights. By the time they turn on again, I’ve lost Damian for good, and now I just try to stay off security’s radar. I settle in a nice little blind spot right outside the children’s toy area and keep myself out of any trouble.” Jason looks over at Dick, fighting to keep a smug grin off his face. “Course I did see a woman go off on a poor employee. I kept my nose clean of it ‘cause it wasn’t my business.”

“Oh, ha, ha very funny. That woman was a menace,” groans Dick.

“Woman?” Bruce questions, almost scared to ask.

“Jessica Merope-Laverne, fifty-five, resident of Pleasantville. Married twice, has two children, a restraining order, and a police file with multiple notes about disturbing the peace,” Tim rattles off. “Thoroughly unpleasant.”

“That’s an understatement,” mutters Dick.

“Practically dragged Dickie Bird away by the ear.”

“Right as I was about to nab Marinette too. She’d hidden in one of the wardrobes in the room, and I was this close-” Dick positions his fingers scant centimeters apart from each other, “-to cornering her, and I got dragged away.”

“Shit, would have loved to know that,” mutters Jason. “Anyway, I stood around, making sure nobody was on my tail, soon I heard rumors about a ruckus in the atrium-”

“That would be me,” Tim admits with a grin.

“Well, I didn’t know that. I was hoping demon spawn and Frenchie were involved somehow, so I headed over, and then-”

“Oh, I know what happened from there. I saw the video.” Bruce pins Tim and Jason with a stare. “I respect both of you have opinions-”

“Opinions? Opinions? I have justified grounds for calling out his revolutionary bullshit! His entire life embodies nothing but the anthesis of systemic poverty, and he argues for class cooperation!” shouts Jason. Bruce always marvels at how eloquent Jason becomes when angry.

“Violence isn’t the answer,” counters Tim. “You would harm the very people you try to uplift in the process.”

“Sure, it is! It’s the natural response to a gluttonous, greedy, overburdened, bureaucratic system that’s leeching off the populous and perpetuating its own supremacy.”

Tim slams a hand against the table, raising to his feet, exhaustion clearing from his eyes. “It’s an option, not the option. We can do better than violence if we work at the cause's root problem without pulling out a fucking guillotine.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Oh of course you would argue for that, you’ve never had less than six figures in your bank account in your life.”

“So says the self-proclaimed drug lord!”

“That was ten years ago!”

“A bag of heads on the steps of the GCPD!”

“Oh, get over it!”

“If it matters,” interjects Dick. “Probably doesn’t, systemic economic issues are hard to fix when we have bigger problems like an actively insane criminal population that likes destroying important city infrastructure on a monthly basis.”

“Which Wayne Enterprises does its best to counter,” adds Bruce, not bothering to chide his children back on track. This particular topic turned them into a bunch of unherdable cats.

“Funneling more money into the one percent’s hands!” Jason’s bordering on manic at this point.

“We are the one percent, Jason!” counters Tim. “And we stay that way, despite the copious amount of infrastructure projects, that we hire Gotham citizens for, and pay at least a living wage to all of them. Not to mention every other single employee we hire who also are paid a living wage, with benefits, and support. I know I am privileged. I am trying here.” The last sentence came out as a distraught cry, as he collapses back into his chair.

“Are… are you okay?” Dick asks tentatively, ready to cross the table to comfort his brother.

Tim shoves his hands into his hair and mutters, “I need an espresso.”

“No, you need sleep,” says Bruce, mentally calculating where all the caffeine in the house is so he can hide it. “Can we return to the recap, so your brother can go to bed?”

“My side of things is much shorter in comparison to Jason’s,” says Dick. “As long as nobody interrupts.” Casting a pointed glare in Jason’s direction. Jason shrugs casually and crosses his arms.

“I waited at the children’s play area. Now, a man my age would attract attention without a need to be there, so I’d ducked into the employee-only area, and grabbed a shirt to disguise myself. I hung out in the Starbucks for a good forty-five minutes trying to look like I was on break while observing the play area. Although I couldn’t tell where the vent entrance was, I figured two adults Damian and Marinette’s size would be easy to spot coming out of an area meant for children.

“When an hour and a half passed by, I’m nervous, because neither Jason nor Tim has sent any word. I called them both. They didn’t answer.”

“Yeah, 'cause the French phone napper took our phones,” mutters Jason.

“So, I decided to do some reconnaissance. The lady at the front desk looked bored enough, and so I went over to… chat.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “You mean flirt.”

Dick glares. “Shut up. So, I hang around the front desk for half an hour at most, before the kids went crazy. Like plastic balls being thrown everywhere, kids shrieking, this one little girl, later we learn her name is Abby, she’s doing this whole speech about a revolution-”

“Tim…”

“Not me, I’m not here at this point.”

“I stand there in shock, wondering what the heck set it all off. This one little girl runs up to the daycare worker, Melinda? Melody? Something. I don’t remember. And the little girl’s nose was bleeding, so there immediately goes my peaceful cover. I back up into the crowd, which at this point has gathered around pretty thick.”

“You know I wondered why there were so many people hanging around in that front lobby area,” says Tim.

“I’m almost sure the commotion has something to do with Marinette and Damian, so I keep my eyes peeled waiting for any adult-sized figures to emerge from the play area.” Dick sighs, rubbing a hand across his face. “I was right of course, but I missed Marinette slipping out, and she approached me from behind.”

“This is where you get pickpocketed too!” crows Jason.

“Really, Richard?” asks Bruce with a raised brow. This is ridiculous.

“Okay, look, I was distracted, off my game, there was a ton of screeching, and it had been a long day. And she was very good. The technique was flawless, minus a bit of overacting and a touch of obviousness. Which was her goal because-”

“~It was a trap~” Jason and Tim sing together.

“It was bait,” Dick corrects. “Leading me to a trap, that didn’t even work. So really, I did the best between the three of us.”

“You all will complete remedial awareness training, so a situation like this never happens again.” Bruce massages the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering sigh. “Just… just please continue.”

“I can’t full-out chase her or anything, but she keeps out of reach through the store, until we reach the place where they set the trap. Obviously, Jason already tripped it, so she turned face and ran in the opposite direction. I followed, trying to convince her to stop and talk. But at this point, she’s full-on outpacing me and doing well too. I’m hesitant to say trained, but she had practice.”

“She’s gotta be a spy, or maybe she’s working for the League?” muses Jason.

“Damian would see right through that,” interrupts Bruce. He knows his youngest son has an instinct when sniffing out undercover League members. Talia certainly sent enough of them over the years.

“Maybe she’s just that good?” says Tim. “I certainly can’t find a damn thing on her, and being a League plant would explain that.”

Dick shrugs. “We’ll figure out her deal later. She calls Damian, and they talk briefly, but I couldn’t hear the conversation. Soon after Jason does his whole intercom takeover Marinette pulls out her little magic electro bursts and short circuits the electricity to the entire store.”

“And then caused you to trip.”

Dick wearily nods. “And then caused me to trip. By the time I detangle myself, she’s long gone. The lights come back on, and I’m stuck wondering where the hell she’s gone. I try to avoid getting clocked by security, so I keep to blind spots, which is how I eventually spot her doing the same.”

“Suspicious,” mutters Tim. “More evidence for the ‘League plant’ theory.”

“Or she could know security is looking for a woman of her description and she’s smart, either way, I tail her and corner her in a display room, no idea why she chose that one, but when I walk in it’s empty.”

“She teleported, or vanished like a ninja,” gasps Tim, eyes wide, pupils smaller than pinpricks. Bruce is now counting the seconds until he passes out.

Dick shakes his head. “No, she hid in the fucking closet. Tim, you need sleep.” Tim sticks out his tongue.

“I was this-” Dick places his fingers centimeters away from each other “-close to nabbing her, and then the whole Jessica situation happened.” He rubs a hand through already messed up, fly-away hair. “She drags me away screeching about lawyers and customer service, and it had been a very long day, so the second her back was turned I bolted. I couldn’t risk heading back to the display room, although if I were Marinette I’d be long gone, so I backtracked to where I stuffed my actual clothes and headed towards the atrium.”

“Yes, I saw your arrival as well,” Bruce confirms with an exasperated drawl. The videos spread out across multiple platforms gave an all-around idea of what happened in the atrium. “You all know better than to escalate things in public. We have an image to maintain after all." The boys nod, cowed and guilty. "That being said, things wrapped up rather neatly.” He eyes the boys with a paranoid weariness. “Too neatly.”

All three sag into their seats and gaze at each other with sheepish grimaces.

“Yeah, B, we noticed that too,” says Jason. “But at the time…” he trails off.

Tim continues, his speech sluggish. “It felt normal, to accept what was going on. The fight, the crazy lady, the little kid with the ball pit balls, her uncle being Dick’s old friend, and the store manager, and they let us go. It was easy to go along with it.” Grimacing, he gestures to his assorted piles of papers. “You know, besides for all the work I have now.” Crossing his arms on the table he lays his head in the middle. “Too many people, so little sense.”

“Damian hasn’t said a word about any of it.” Dick slouches lower in his chair.

“Kid was all smirks when he and the little liar approached us after we left the store,” grumbles Jason. "Had fuckin' ice cream and everything." He spins the almost empty bottle of alcohol coke on the table. “Of course, they made us wait, because after we left and booked it to the car, Dickie realizes his keys are gone too. So there we are standin' in the parking lot, Timmy doesn't have his shoes, and all we got between us is one nerf gun, no phones, no keys, and no fucks left to give.” Bruce, too tired from the absolute rollercoaster of emotions and information his children just sent him on, can do nothing but muster up a stern and disappointed glare. He trained them all better than to let a civilian pull one over on not just one of them, but all of them.

“Yeah, yeah, I know situational awareness. We’ll work on-” Dick breaks off his sentence, and sighs softly. A small soft smile overtakes his face, and he raises a single finger to his mouth. He nods in Tim’s direction.

Tim’s head, previously cradled in his arms, now lolls to the side. Neon blue light from his laptop highlighted his closed eyes, and the purplish bags underneath.

“Finally,” Jason mutters. “I swear he has the survival instincts of a wet paper bag. He’s been up for way too long.”

Bruce is just grateful he won't need to physically drag Tim off to bed and force him to get some desperately needed sleep. “Now we just need to get him to his room.” He would have done it himself if his ribs didn’t spasm the second he thought of the idea.

“Not it,” Dick whispers so quickly it’s practically a rush of air.

“Not it,” says Jason, barely a millisecond behind.

“Ha!” Dick impishly grins. “You do it.”

“But-”

“Nope, I said it first. You got to carry him.”

Jason turns his head towards Bruce, big bluish-green eyes looking for support.

Bruce doesn’t get himself involved in the decision-making games his children play. “He said it first.”

Jason’s hopeful glance turns into a disgruntled snarl. “I hate both of you,” he spits.

“Love ya too, Jay.”

“Thank you, Jason.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, wrinkling his nose. Jason pushes back his chair, and although he’s annoyed, the solid wood chair doesn’t scrape against the floor, so he can’t be too mad. Despite drinking his entire liter of mystery-alcohol-diet-coke mixture, his footsteps pace steady and strong. “Come here, ya little coffee-addicted gremlin.” Jason slips his arms around Tim’s body. It’s a testament to how exhausted his son must be, that Tim only flutters his eyes and protests incoherently at being lifted out of his chair.

“Quiet down, Replacement,” Jason murmurs, his voice soft as he speaks to his sleep-deprived brother. “All your calls and research will be there when you return from the land of nod.”

“But…”

“You can go willingly, or I can grab sedatives from the med bay and forcefully put your ass to sleep. I’ll put a bet on who’ll win that brawl.” Jason stands a good six inches taller than Tim, who looks like little more than a bedraggled rag doll in his older brother’s arms. Bruce knew who would win that fight too. Tim sighs and relaxes another inch into Jason’s arms. “There ya go. You can go back to bein’ insufferable once you’ve had some fucking sleep.”

“Hmm…” Tim's eyes fully flutter shut. Jason shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but softly traverses the room so as to not jostle him. Looking back over his shoulder one last time to shoot an I-can’t-believe-I’m-doing-this look at Bruce and Dick, before walking out of the room.

Silence overtakes the grand dining room as the last of Jason’s footsteps fades into the echoing halls of Wayne Manor. A light rain drizzles outside, the faintest patter hitting the tall arched windows letting in a soft grey light.

Dicks groans, pulling himself out of his slouch gracefully and into more of a respectable position. “I’m getting too old for that.”

“If you’re old, I must be ancient,” Bruce responds. He’s not, really. Only forty-seven to Dick’s thirty-two. What he’d been thinking taking in a ten-year-old at twenty-five, he couldn’t really quite say. The only thing that mattered at the time was the aching echo of loneliness reflected in the eyes of a child who had just lost their parents.

Now, look at them, all these years later.

“Nah, you’re not ancient, B. We’ve just been through enough shit in our lives to age a person twenty times over.”

Bruce gives him a look of high disappointment. “Stunts like this do not help, Richard.”

Dick has the decency to look properly ashamed. “I really didn’t mean for the situation to get so out of hand,” Dick insists in a soft, quiet tone. Bruce doesn’t quite believe it. His sons thrive off of chaos. Even if they didn’t mean for things to get out of hand, they tended to actively encourage it once in the middle of the undertow. “I know, I know, but how was I supposed to anticipate Damian teaming up with a… witch? Magician? Whatever she is.” Dick mutters the last sentence, but Bruce hears it clearly.

His sons certainly think the young woman is dangerous. Tim is thoroughly confused and stressed by her existence, although deciphering his third son’s emotions through his fog of exhaustion is a vexing endeavor Bruce still isn’t sure he accomplishes all the time. Jason clearly hates her or at least is holding a very large, very deep grudge against her. He wonders what exactly the content of the conversation was when she threatened Tim and Damian. He wonders if she knew the effect it would have on Jason.

Flickering light from the chandelier above pierces his eyes like a particularly vicious game of stab-the-vigilante, but this conversation is important, so, despite the full body ache accompanying his you’ve-pushed-too-far-and-now-you’ll-suffer-the-consequences migraine, he pushes through to ask, “What do we actually know about her?”

Dick sighs heavily, rubbing a hand across his face, and suddenly he looks every inch of his thirty-two years. “To be honest? Only a little. Tim wasn’t the only one to look her up. I did my searching too.”

“And?”

“Practically nothing. Basic info, but school records sealed tighter than Fort Knox, and firewalls grow tighter every time I try to hack ‘em. School activities, online media presence, and even pictures; all of it is whisps in the wind. Every time I try to look deeper, something...” Dick shudders as if shaking away a bad feeling. “I come up short and I can’t find a reason why. Even trying to think about Paris as a whole feels off and I can’t put my finger on it.”

“I can see if there’s anything in the League’s database about the city the past few years. It was Diana’s home base for decades until…” Bruce trails off, his mind an unexpected blank. Diana moved to the US from Paris eventually. Sometime within the last decade, but he can’t quite remember why. Surely, she must have told him at some point.

“She’s a fashion designer, I know that much. She has a website but it’s very bare bones. Commission work only. And her current course of study at Gotham U is Fashion and Business Management. But-” Dick’s hands flail into the air. “She’s from Paris! What on earth possessed her from moving from one of the fashion capitals of the world to here, to study fashion is beyond me.”

“Hmmm…” Bruce’s brain whirls at a million miles a minute. Connections forming and rearranging on his mind’s case board. The incongruency is so stark, there must be a reason. They haven’t found it yet.

“As for her magic…” Dick shrugs. “She said her powers mostly affected situational outcomes, and from the incidents I saw, she told the truth. But I’ve never seen magic like that before. Magic that just… happens. She didn’t say words, she didn’t make hand gestures. She used tiny little - I want to call them mechanized balls, but we never came close enough to tell – to kickstart the magic.”

“A techno-mage then?”

Dick contemplates the idea for a moment before saying, “Could be. But it felt more than that. As soon as she became involved the whole day felt… left of normal. Which I suppose aligns with situational outcome manipulation. The day certainly went their way…” Dick shrugs. “I just don’t know.”

Bruce hums, finally asking the question that had swirled in his mind since the girl was brought up. “Do you think she’s a danger?”

Dick leans back in the chair, his face an avalanche of flickering emotions. Wind lightly howled outside the dining hall filling the intervening silence. Finally, he sighs and says, “No, I don’t think so. She was chaotic sure but genuinely enjoyed the game for what it was. Damian probably encouraged the more unhinged ideas. And yes, she has magic, but so do a ton of other, far more obviously dangerous people. Our system is tricked out for all types of magic users, and even if she can bypass them due to her own unique magic, we’d at least receive a warning. And as for our identities…” Dick half-smiles. “She didn’t even know we were the ‘Waynes’ until we were just about to leave, and she didn’t appear particularly star-struck. I doubt she’d make the jump from chaotic billionaire’s kids to vigilantes.”

“As for Damian…?” Bruce hardly knows what to make of his youngest’s out-of-character reaction and hopes to receive some cohesive read on the situation from his eldest.

Dick, being quite unhelpful, shrugs. “I think you should talk to him. Get his side of the story. Things may have been chaotic on our end, but he did genuinely have fun. And, yes, he’s acting out of the norm.” Dick pauses. “Way, way, out of the norm for him, but I don’t think he’s enchanted. I think he just has a crush.”

Bruce blinks. Isn’t that a hell of a thought?

Damian.

With a crush.

He doesn’t have the bandwidth to deal with these kinds of realities. Reflexively he massages his temple with the tips of his fingers trying to relieve the paining, aching pressure.

“Headache again?” asks Dick with sympathy. After twenty years his son knows his tells well, and Bruce has always had headaches, although his reasons for having them have certainly increased over the years.

“Yeah, is what it is though. We’ll keep an eye on Damian, have you run him through the influence-affected protocols?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

Dick shrugs. “Nothing, it’s mostly why I think he’s fine. She may be a danger, or powerful, but I don’t think she’s doing anything to Damian. Besides making him run up the data plan on his phone. He really hasn’t stopped texting the past two days.”

They’ve spent plenty of time talking about Damian, but Bruce hasn’t seen a glimpse of him since he woke up this morning. “Where is he?”

Dick pulls out his phone. “On a date, according to Stephanie.” Pulling up a photo that’s taken in a long-distance setting. Damian is pictured, seated at a cafe table, drinking out of a white coffee cup. Across from him sits a girl, Asiatic features, black hair, clad in a colorful sundress. They’re both smiling at each other.

It’s normal and adorable. And slightly worrying. Damian doesn’t smile like that unless looking at a fluffy four-legged creature.

“Stephanie trailed him?”

Dick flips the phone away. “Actually, she and Cass both followed him when he left this afternoon. Not sure what they planned, but they’ve sent some nice pictures.” He pauses for a moment and smiles fondly. “If she’s not a danger, or a League plant, this could be really good for him.”

Bruce hums, unsure, and hating himself for that unsurety. He’ll make a call when he has more information, and less of a migraine. “Go wash up and grab some sleep. I’m out until my ribs heal, so I’ll need you to take point on patrol.”

Rising from his chair, Dick stretches and shoots him a grin. “It took you twenty-five years, but damn, you’ve finally learned to call it quits when you need a break. Proud of you B.”

Bruce doesn’t bother to disguise his roll of the eyes. Dick would know he did it regardless. “Get on.”

Dick shoots him a lazy salute. “Sir, yes, sir.” He ambles to the door, and Bruce calls out again before he’s gone.

“And next time, Dick, please try to keep the antics out of the paper, and off the internet.”

The shit-eating grin betrays Dick’s real thoughts when he says, “Of course Bruce, won’t happen again.”

Liar.

Bruce shakes his head in reluctant bemusement – should he honestly have expected anything else – and Dick ducks out of the door without another word. Finally, the dining room is quiet, except for the pitter-patter of rain on the window panes, and the soft hum of Tim’s computer.

Carefully, Bruce rises from the chair, his side twinging, head throbbing in what is now a full-on migraine.

He should have stayed in bed.

Ah, well, he’s suffered worse, and now he has a good idea of what happened with his sons that caused a headache so insistent he felt it halfway across the galaxy.

Gently closing Tim’s laptop, he doesn’t bother to touch the articles and paper, knowing his son’s organizational system may appear a mess to outsiders – even him on occasion – but that it has meaning for him. He observes the rest of the room; collecting Tim’s coffee mugs, and Jason’s empty plate and coke bottle – no need to have Alfred do it if he was right here – and ambles slowly to the kitchen taking care not to drop the dishes or disturb his ribs.

Placing the dishes away, Bruce leans heavily on the counter. Mind whirling, analyzing, and connecting the information as he has always done, however, it battles for dominance over the present, persistent, migraine. His body screams for more rest, and as much as he wishes to dig to the bottom of these problems right now, he trusts Dick has given him an accurate read of the situation. Later he can pry information from the girls, maybe they’ll have a less biased view of Damian’s… friend than his sons do.

He flicks the lights off in the kitchen, for now though, he’s heading back to sleep.

-line break-

A nap, a full meal, and hours later, the pitch black of the night concealed a heavier storm than the light drizzle which draped over the manor earlier in the day. Bruce, knowing damn well he wasn’t fit for patrol, sat in his office, a bottle of forty-year whisky perched next to a crystalline tumbler and a box of chocolates. A minor indulgence, especially as he should stay far away from alcohol at the moment. But if he hadn’t died from insane nutcases, aliens, or his children’s antics, mixing medicine and alcohol probably wouldn’t kill him.

Bruce snapshots a picture of the newspaper Alfred gave him this morning.

The front-page cover contains enough of the story to showcase the significant amount of drama his children had caused.

He texts the images to both Diana and Clark.

All he adds is, ‘I always know, and I’m always right.’

He pours another finger of the amber liquid into his glass and swirls it around as the computer turns on. Just because he wasn’t out and about, didn’t mean he intended to take the night off. Bruce stretches his fingers and opens up a blank case file template.

Time to find out who exactly is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

#maribat #damian x marinette #maridami #mlb crossover #daminette #damimari #marinette dupain cheng x damian wayne #ml x dc #marinette dupain-cheng x damian wayne #damientte #damianette #mlb x dc #the ikea verse #ikea verse #headache classification system #the great ikea game

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raphael-angele · 2 years

Conversation

Tim Drake as Amy Santiago cuz they're both nerds

Tim: *packing 2 bottles of vodka in his bag*

Steph: 2 bottles of vodka. Is this gonna be the weekend we finally get to meet 6-drink-Timmy?

Tim: 6-drink-Timmy? What does that mean?

Steph: It's the pinnacle of the Tim Drake Drunkenness Scale. One drink makes you a little spacey. Two drinks, loud Timmy. Three drinks, Timmy dance pants. Four drink Timmy is a bit of a pervert. And five drink Timmy is overly confident. But I've never seen six drink Timmy

Tim: Does everybody know the scale?

Steph: yep.

---

POV: It's winter and the family is taking a walk on the beach.

Dick: *to Bruce* Great plan. An 80 minute walk on the beach.

3-drink Timmy: *to Steph* I'm so cold, even my fiery dance moves aren't keeping me warm

Jason: Well, you gotta be prepared. *pulling out two small bottles out of his jacket pocket* Mini-cognac. *gives to Tim and Steph*

Tim: *drink*

Steph: Four drinks! Thank you, Jason. AND THANK YOU, POSEIDON. GREAT GOD! OF THE SEA!

---

4-drink-Timmy, about to go and talk to Bruce:

Steph: Tim!

4D Tim: Hm?

Steph: *giving him a glass of alcohol* You don't wanna be near Bruce in your current state. Say hello to the most confident man alive

Tim: *drinks* Drink Number 5. *to Steph* You, are a true friend and a hot little bitch. *leaves*

Steph: Goodbye, 4-drink-Timmy. Sloppy sicko.

---

Tim: *has a lot of paperwork to do* I love paperwork, but this is too much. Duke, you're going so fast.

Duke: *signing a lot of paperwork* We don't have a choice; We can't let this place fill up with perps.

Tim: Yeah, but, you're gonna cramp!

Duke: You kidding? I've been cramping for the past 20 minutes

Tim: ...I'm so attracted to you right now.

---

Duke: *closing the fridge only to see a clearly highly caffeinated Tim behind him*

Tim: ...what?

Duke: Uhhh, nothing. I'm going to go over to there, now.

Duke: Dick, what's going on? Why does Tim look like that?

Dick: Oh, he obsessively drinks coffee when he's nervous and he's super nervous cuz he's taking his SAT's today

Duke: But Tim loves tests

Dick: Not this one. He's planning on taking over WE entirely if he passes and graduates and if he doesn't, it disrupts her entire life calendar

Duke: Is that a thing?

Dick: I've seen it once or twice.

Jason: So he's stress drinking, big deal, that's like a one in the Tim Drake Panic Scale

Dick: yeah, but we already jumped to level two: Creepily singing songs from the great American song book.

Dick: So, yeah, I think the worst is behind us.

Tim, yelling at the microwave: WHY ARE YOU TAKING SO LONG TO COOK MY FREAKING OATMEAL?! *throws microwave onto floor and starts beating it with his bo staff*

---

5D Timmy: It's time

Bruce: ...for what, Tim?

5D Timmy: For you, to give me a promotion. I've been carrying this whole team on my back for years and my back is getting tired.

---

Tim, trying on dresses/suits for his wedding:

Jason, who went with him and is also wearing a suit: So, what do you think?

Tim, wearing a dress: Hmm, I don't really like the sash, but, it's fine. I'm just gonna get it.

Jason: What? That's the first one you tried on. I once saw you look at 54 accordion folders and not buy any of them due to weak tabs

Tim: I file hard, I need strong tabs. I'm sorry. I just don't wanna take up any more time.

Jason: Your break's not even a quarter done

Tim: ...I'll stay another 10 minutes

Jason: You'll stay until I dismiss you.

---

Tim: *sulking*

Bruce: Tim, you know why you didn't get into SAMSAM?

Tim: Cuz I used a modern format on my cover letter. I put my email ABOVE my home address, why take the risk?!

---

POV: Tim and Kon are going undercover at Kon's old school

Tim, on the school computer: Okay, I think I got something

Kon: Hm? *looks* That's not Greg's profile, it's mine.

Tim: I know, I just wanted to take a look at your attendance record. *gasp* Zero absences? Hot damn.

---

POV: Bruce told the boys to watch over Damian for a few days while he and Selina go to France.

Dick: Bruce hasn't seen Selina in months. And I was thinking that if that was me and Kori, I'd be really sad.

Tim: Aw, Dick, that is so sweet of you

Dick: Plus, he left a binder full of instructions *pulls out big binder*

Tim: *gasp* there's a binder?! why didn't you lead with that?!?!

---

POV: Omegaverse...plus, there's a blackout (Dick and Bruce are the only Alphas. Duke is a beta. Tim and Jason are omegas. Damian is a pup)

Tim: We should ambulances on call. I want an open line communication with TOT and someone from DA down here so we don't get cases thrown out. I need a pair of sweatpants and check again on that status at ESU. Alright, let's go.

Jason: What do you need the sweatpants for?

Tim: My water just broke, which reminds me we might have to distribute water and food.

Jason: YOU'RE WATER JUST BROKE?!?!?!

...

Jason: Tim, you need to get to a hospital right now. I don't want a birth happening around me, it's way too gross

Tim: I'm no where near giving birth. I haven't even lost my mucus plug.

Jason, hands slamming on the desk: You need to get the *beep* out of here.

Tim: I'm sorry my baby grosses you out, Jay.

Jason: I'd be happy to meet your baby when it's dry and fully clothed, not when it's bursting out of you.

Tim: I'm just at the start of my labor, I haven't event had my first contraaaAaAAAaaa-

Jason:

Tim: aaaAAAaaaAAaction.

Jason: ...was that a contraction?

Tim: No. That was just a crazy yawn

Jason:

Tim: Fine. Look, I don't have to go to the hospital unless my contractions are 3 minutes apart and lasts for at least 45 seconds

Jason: Don't you need to go and pack some stuff?

Tim: Can I burrow some of yours?

Jason:

Tim: Please?

Jason: Fine.

Tim: Then I rest my case.

...

Jason: Okay! You're contractions are 3 minutes apart, it's officially time to go to the hospital.

Tim: Not yet.

Jason: Do you have any idea how thin your lining is right now?

Tim: ?

Jason: Yeah, I'm worried, so I started reading the book about omegas that I found on in Dick's room and I do not want to be around when PAGE 53 HAPPENS! *shows picture*

Person: Hank wants to know if we can cut the power to the third floor

Tim: Let me talk to him

Jason: HEY! If you page 53 on me, I swear to god, our relationship will never be the same again.

Tim: Make sure you don't look at page 214.

Jason, flipping pages: What? Why?!

---

Tim, to Bruce and Dick: Status update, I called in every officer I could, I green lit shifts and overtime, we're coordinating with 96 on traffic control, we haven't processed anyone so there's a backlog of perps on the 3rd floor, and I have to go to the hospital cuz my water broke.

Dick: You're having the baby?! Timmy, this is so wonderf-

Tim: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH

Dick: ...we'll just catch up when the baby comes

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lurkinglurkerwholurks · 7 months

Text

Look for the Helpers

First posted: November 13, 2018

Focuses on: BatKids (Dick POV, Jason focused)

Favorite bookmark: "I am bawling."

Tier: Decidedly mid.

This is my "behind the scenes" series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

I'd been chewing for awhile on the idea of Mr. Rogers and how much he meant to people. The Won't You Be My Neighbor documentary had released in January of this same year, and I'd sat in a theater and quietly bawled with a dark room full of strangers. Because his show was on PBS and geared, like Sesame Street, toward low income kids, making him have an outsized impact on Jason made the most sense.

Dick wondered if he would ever be used to the feeling of disconnect that came after a disaster. It felt like… He stabbed at a macaroni noodle and considered the radiant numbness spreading out from his chest.

This first bit, Dick mulling on the weirdness after a disaster that you manage to survive, was pulled from personal experience, but with the last half decade being what it's been, I can't even tell you which one I was pulling from. Hurricane wakes, most likely, though who really knows.

The never-ending white noise of sirens rushing to and fro weren’t real. The loss. The devastation. The chaos.

That said, wow, what a weirdly prescient thing to read back through on this side of 2020.

“I don’t think human eyes are supposed to be that big,” he remarked solemnly, which prompted a snort of laughter from the others and placid disregard from Tim. “It’s anime, Dickie, don’t be so uncool.” Jason’s faux-whine made it clear that he was not, in fact, defending Tim’s artwork. “It’s a legitimate art form, and you both are snobs,” Tim said, his tone unruffled as he reached for his sandwich with his right hand, his left never slowing as he traced the warrior girl’s floating hair in purple crayon. “It is,” Damian agreed, which surprised Dick until he added, “when done correctly.” “Oh, bite me,” Tim retorted, but without any heat.

Of course Tim is a weeb. Tim and Damian.

“Is that Steph?” Jason asked, head now tilted to get a better look at Tim’s drawing. Intrigued, Dick craned his neck as well. “What? No!” Now Tim’s head snapped up, and he glared at Jason as one arm curled protectively around the crayon drawing. Dick would have been inclined to argue that the drawing could have been of anyone, as Tim wasn’t quite good enough to render a clear likeness. But the tips of Tim’s ears were pink.

Nowadays I'm awfully ambivalent on Tim/Steph and trend toward apathetic neutral. CECverse is an exception.

“Jason, if you lean over any farther, you’re going to knock over your soup,” Dick pointed out instead. Jason scowled, but settled back in his chair. “I’d make a joke, but one, we don’t make gags about Nazis anymore, and two, that show is old as dirt.”

I could not have predicted the Seinfeld renaissance among the youth.

Beneath the table, Dick tapped his fingertips together, one after the other. The numbness was still there, but if he didn’t think about it, it receded from the foreground. Not lessened or disappeared, just backed away to hover like a thin blanket over everything except what he was focusing on, which in turn made what he was focusing on seem harshly bright and loud. That was okay, though, if what he was focusing on was his brothers. Dick popped another forkful of cheesy noodles into his mouth and studied them, careful to keep a slight smile on his face as he did.

Oh. I remember what I was pulling from now. Not the numbness but the way you can chat and laugh and joke and seem normal when the world is upended and nothing is normal at all. Loss is weird.

They all tended to huddle a little closer together when Bruce was away.

I like this, the idea of them all gravitating, deliberately or subconsciously, so they're a team huddled, facing outward, without Bruce to hold their center.

Only Cass had been allowed to stay at the Manor. She and Alfred were planning a Masterpiece Theater Poirot mystery binge, with some Miss Marple and Jeeves and Wooster thrown in for flavoring. Dick wasn’t sure how much of the dialogue Cass could follow, but she seemed to find it a fun challenge to identify the murderer by body language alone. And anyone could enjoy the comedy of old J&W.

This took me a second to figure out, what Alfred and Cass might bond over and why, especially since Alfred is verbally cerebral and Cass finds words less useful. I think I made it work.

Jason was picking at Tim, who pretended to be grumpy and ignored his aggravating older brother in favor of tackling his roast beef sandwich with both hands.

Why roast beef, I don't know.

Dick took a few texts himself, mostly to coordinate the efforts and to relay the continued lack of news. Jason received none, though Dick caught him peeking at the screen once or twice.

I had a whole secondary storyline worked out with Bizarro that wasn't necessary or important at all but that would include a line about Jason taking care of Biz's plant. Something about it was supposed to be absolutely gutting, but I couldn't fit it in and now I don't remember what I had in mind.

Dick ducked his head as a familiar face filled the screen—Superman, a lone curl tumbling charmingly down his forehead, his chin turned to stare bravely into the distance. It was a stupid photo, boldly heroic in none of the ways that made Clark truly brave. That was the point, he knew, of a secret identity—no strong points of connection—but it rankled him to see the man portrayed as a stoic bastion of strength instead of the smiling, gentle man who used to pick Dick up by his ankles and swing him upside down.

Dick's point of view was a deliberate pick, as the eldest brother minding the wellbeing of the youngers, but also for how this specific worry would pick at him. Clark is a bigger part of his life than for the others.

But that was how these things went. Those that left were free to be reshaped into whatever was needed by those who were left behind. A beloved friend. A solemn warrior. A good soldier.

Yes, that was a jab.

The other members of the superhero community did their best to fill the power void, especially in Metropolis, which had been hardest hit and was now missing its white knight, though the Kent boys and Kara did their best.

I think this is the only time I ever acknowledge Kara in my fics. I don't know her. She will not appear.

Dick clamped a firm hand onto Damian’s shoulder and shoved the boy back into his seat before he could crawl over the table to stab Tim with his fork.

I make too many Damian stabbing jokes in these early fics. Or rather, I the writer mean them as funny moments but in-world they wouldn't be funny or in character, really. He's got a temper but he's not an impetuous hothead. I think I've gotten better (I hope) about, when I do joke, they're in-world jokes as well.

The diner was nestled between a rising skyscraper and a small neighborhood park, the kind community developers liked to slot into any little niche so that they could advertise nearby green space to prospective renters. It was no more than a small patch of green ringed with trees, bisected by a path with a small, two-tiered fountain in the middle. This neighborhood had been untouched by the extraterrestrial destruction, and the paths were at a midday lull, soft greys and greens and whites unbroken except for a jogger here, a mother and child there, a dogwalker off in the distance.

I plucked this park from real life. I don't remember where I was now, maybe Maryland, visiting friends? But I can still see the real-world park in my head, and how I altered it to make it into a place I could use in Gotham.

From what Dick could remember, even before, Jason had hated to show weakness. Though more expressive than Bruce by far, he hid his fears and sorrows beneath anger and rage. He had, in many ways, been more vulnerable with Bruce than Dick had been, willing to confront and challenge the older man when upset, but he had hated being coddled. The safest thing to do when Jason was in turmoil was to give him space and return when the dust had settled.

meeeeeeeeeeeeee

“Maybe.” Dick tried to remember everything he had seen Bruce do right and everything he had seen Bruce do wrong. “But it’s still important to you, so it’s important to me. Tell me.”

I firmly love best a Bruce who doesn't always get it right but also doesn't always get it wrong. He's just a guy doing his best.

“I thought…” Jason slumped to the side until his shoulder rested against the tree. “I thought it’d taken everything it could. I lost a year of my life, my family, my home, my sanity.” He barked out a laugh, raspy and rough and dark with bitterness. “What else could I lose, right?”

I also love Jason getting to grieve his missing years, not just raging against Bruce and Gotham. I should do more with that.

“It wasn’t exciting or really funny. It was just this… this old guy. He’d come in to this clean house and hang up his jacket and take off his shoes and sing. He’d tell stories with these stupid puppets, and he never yelled or got mad. And he’d talk right to me. Every time, it was like he was talking right to me.” Jason swiped at his eyes again, fast, hard. “I guess it was because it was public access and they didn’t have a lot of other programming, but it felt like every time I needed him, he was on. Even when I got older, I’d turn him on sometimes, because no matter how scared or angry or sad I was, I knew he’d fix it. He’d tell me he was proud of me, that I was special, that I was okay just the way I was.”

I always hated the puppets, so that bit was more me than Jason. Jason was too young to get the show on first-run, so it makes sense that the reruns would be frequent and seemingly available whenever he needed them to be on. And it makes sense that a calm, gentle, supportive show would be a lifeline to him, a world where big, scary things don't appear or are talked through when they do.

Instead, he had ended up a murder victim and a killer. Dick wanted to pull Jason into a hug and let him know that he could still make a difference, that he had made a difference in Crime Alley, even if they still butted heads over methodology sometimes. He didn’t need to be ashamed of who he was. But then Jason whispered, “I didn’t know he’d died.”

Dick: Oh he's having a crisis about his behavior, oh no.

Jason: actually having an entirely different crisis

Like, imagine if you blipped out of existence for a few years and when you came back, you found out about Robin Williams or Steve Irwin retroactively.

They had never done anything like this, even before. Dick had been too busy being Nightwing to be a big brother, and Jason had had no reason to trust him. But that didn’t mean Dick couldn’t be here now, to make up for all his failures before. He pressed his lips to Jason’s scalp, then rested his cheek atop the man’s head and waited.

I still haven't fully settled in my own head exactly what the Nightwing-Robin transition was like for the three of them. When I started, I leaned on the fanon interpretation of Bruce and Dick fighting a lot and Dick and Jason as emotionally distant strangers. Now I think I've relegated a lot of that to individual interpretation (Dick feeling a lot of guilt that doesn't wholly match reality, for example), but it's still pretty fluid.

Dick could feel a tear or two wash down his own face as he tightened his hold on his brother’s shoulders. “He would be proud of you, you know. He wasn’t the kind of guy to ask for perfection, right? Just that you try. He’d be so proud, Jay.” “Why, because you are?” Jason had tried for sardonic, but the wry jab came out waterlogged and muffled between sniffles. “Yeah. Yeah, I am,” Dick murmured.

Choked myself up a little there.

“Mine was Bob Ross,” Tim offered suddenly. He had sat on the end, furthest from Jason but still close enough to be heard even in a low voice as he hugged his knees. “Not his death so much. He died before I knew who he was. But I liked to watch him paint. He made beautiful things from his mistakes. His happy accidents. It was good to hear, sometimes.” Dick and Jason took that in silently, digesting everything Tim had said and everything he hadn’t.

I knew each kid would have their own person to name, because that's how these conversations go. Mention Steve Irwin and someone else will mention Robin Williams or Chadwick Boseman or Amy Winehouse or whoever. Everyone has a death of a stranger that meant an awful lot to them. Figuring out who to pair to whom was an interesting puzzle, and I think the pairings I picked made sense. (Am realizing now how many shocking celebrity deaths are men.)

One quirk of timing with this fic was I wrote it and happened to post, completely by accident, the day that Stan Lee died. Folks were really feeling it in my comments section.

#fanfic bts brain dump

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