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#batfam drabble
buckyegans · 1 year
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Bruce Wayne is tired tonight, a little more so than other nights. He notices the house is oddly quiet as he exits the cave, following the trail of light coming from the kitchen. He moves rather sluggishly, covering his mouth as he yawns. His shoulders are hunched foreward slightly as he stops in the kitchen, looking to the black suited man standing in front of the sink. Alfred is toeing around a towel, wiping up what seems to be a puddle of spilled water. Alfred turns swiftly, smiling warmly to Bruce. “Hello, Master Bruce. Ms. Cain opted to come through the window tonight. She hadn’t thought to check if the sink was full or not. You seem tired, Master Wayne. Shall I get you anything?” Alfred questions.
Bruce chuckles a little, shaking his head. “I’m alright, Alfred, thank you. Where is…everyone?” Bruce asks, brows furrowing a little. Alfred clasps his hands together in front of him, a little grin forming on his face. “Master Bruce, I think you should go check the family room…” He said with a wink, watching as Bruce slowly turned in that direction, a curious look dawning his face. He pulled himself together momentarily, heavy feet becoming light in attempt to sneak in. Poking his head into the illuminated living room, his eyes fell onto the large white structure in the middle of the room, in front of the forgotten television playing reruns of an old sitcom Tim and Stephanie had frequently watched. A blanket fort…Bruce stifled a small laugh as he walked towards it, crouching down, aging bones cracking loudly, making Bruce cringe. Bruce looks into the opening of the fort, spotting a tangle of legs and and blankets.
Raising his brows in surprise, Bruce wants to let out an ‘awe’, but manages to stop himself from waking the pile of sleeping heroes. He looks a little closer to see who is where. He finds Damian fairly quickly—his arms holding a bundle of blankets as opposed to his usually stiff sleeping position. Next to Damian is Dick, on his back, taking as much space as humanly possible. (Yes! Even more than Jason, who was the largest underneath the tent.) Below Dick’s arm was you, leg swung over your brother’s shin, another arm draped over Stephanie’s face. Bruce wondered how you all slept like this. Stephanie was next to Cassandra, the two both sharing a blanket, facing the same direction. Jason was above your head, still dressed in all his gear, even his boots, having probably planned to ‘only stay for a while’, Bruce guessed Jason had been the first to fall asleep. In the far corner of the tent, Tim was…surprisingly asleep. He was on his stomach, blanket wrapped around him completely, only a mop of black hair signifying it was him. And finally, below Tim was Duke, a large yellow hoodie swallowing him whole, a pillow in his arms with a leg thrown halfway around it. Bruce smiled at them all.
Standing back up, Bruce shuffled towards the couch, sitting on it. He only planned to sit there for a few minutes, but, soon enough, even Bruce was fast asleep, huddled into the couch, the television shining on his face. Alfred eventually came in a half hour later to turn the lamps and television off before noticing none other than Bruce Wayne asleep on the couch he almost didn’t fit on, arms and legs hanging over the edges. Alfred picked up a forgotten blanket from the tent and draped it over Bruce. When morning came, you were the first to wake up. After a night of snacks and drinks, the bathroom was calling your name. But, you stopped once you saw the state of the room. All your siblings crammed into one tent, Bruce overflowing on the couch, and Alfred with his arms folded in the armchair. You grinned tiredly, tiptoeing towards Cassandra, beckoning her to follow. The two of you tried to make the least amount of sound as you haphazardly made an amateur breakfast. You plated it quickly as soon as you were finished, carrying arms full of plates topped with bacon, eggs, toast, pancakes of all kinds. Cass was on drink duty, pouring juices, milks, and coffees for everyone. The two of you made your way back to the living room.
You cleared your tired throat and yelled out, waking everyone up. “Wakey, wakey!” You called, beginning to her shifting from inside the fort. Groans and yawns followed, followed by more confused sounds. “What the hell…” Jason’s rough voice came. Dick was the first to emerge from the fort, his pajama pants hiked up on his shins, making them look a little…colonial. The rest of the pack soon followed, Jason being the last to exit, knocking a majority of the fort down in the process. Alfred woke Bruce up, who was still sleeping like a rock. Once you all were awake (kind of, Tim and Bruce had this look in their eyes), plates were passed around and no words were spoken as hungry heroes shoveled food into their mouths as the television played in the background. This wasn’t a regular occurance, but, when it did happen, it made being part of a chaotic family worth it.
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superbat-love · 3 months
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Dick: So how has domestic life been for you?
Bruce: Clark and I do not have a domestic life.
Dick: Oh? What about all the times Clark did the laundry?
Bruce: Our suits were contaminated with radioactive or toxic materials.
Dick: Or when you helped to sew his torn clothes?
Bruce: I doubt the local tailor would have Kryptonian-strength needle and thread for his cloak.
Dick: Or that time when he helped you move your stuff?
Bruce: It’s a hassle to send movers to outer space.
Clark: Hey B, I’m home! I’d hug you, but I’m covered in metal swarf from blasting Luthor’s robots today. Hi Dick!
Bruce: Hn, go shower and get changed. Your dinner is on the table.
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ruenii · 1 year
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Tim, [pointing his staff at the human traffickers]: YOU ARE OUTGUNNED
Jason, [hyping him up]: WHAT?
Tim: OUTMANNED!
Jason: WHAT?!
Tim: OUTNUMBERED OUTPLANNED
Jason: PAY YOUR FUCKING TAXES!
Tim: PUT YOUR GUNS DOWN ON MY COMMAND
Jason: HAND EM OVER!!
Tim: THIS IS HAMILTON MY RIGHT HAND MAN!
Jason, [getting his guns out]: PWO PWO PWO PWO PWO-
Goons: *shaking* what the FUCK are Batman feeding his partners--
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eldritchdreamss · 2 months
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Dick is good at hugs but I just know that Jason is all soft muscle until he flexes, which means he gives the best hugs. One of the Crime Alley kids finds out about this when they hug him after he saves them from being mugged and word gets around to the other kids about it. The first few times he’s asked for a hug when he checks on some of the kids shelters he’s a little surprised but obliges anyway, now when he’s out on patrol and one of the street kids sees him and asks he doesn’t hesitate. He knows there could be a million reasons why they’re asking, and if it helps them, then who is he to say no?
One night it happens while he was on patrol with Dick, they had started taking a break together semi-regularly, Jason still wasn’t at the manor often because he still felt awkward around the family, and Dick is just happy to spend as much time with his brother as he can get. So imagine Dick’s surprise, when they’re waiting for their food at a food truck, one of the kids comes up and asks Jason for a hug and he gives one without a second thought. Dick is just standing there like “????”, thinking there’s no way he saw what he just saw. That is until the kid leaves after and Jason immediately turns to him and threatens that if he tells anyone what he just saw he’ll never talk to him or the family again. Dick, of course, says he won’t tell anyone. And he doesn’t. He’s just glad his brother has people there for him.
For a few weeks Jason is ready for someone to ask or start teasing him about giving out hugs while on patrol when they address him, but no one even comes close to mentioning it. The next time he’s on break with Dick he asks why he hasn’t told anyone when he very easily could have.
“You asked me not too Littlewing.” he said, as if that answer meant anything at all. Dick must have seen his confusion because he spoke again. “You care about them Jason, it’s clear they care about you too. Of course I wish you’d open up to the family a little more, but I’m not going to tell them something you clearly didn’t even want me seeing. Knowing our family they’d push for an answer as to why or something and they’d only end up pushing you away instead of letting you open up on your own time.” he explained. Jason stared at him, that was the last answer he was expecting to hear.
After a few moments of finishing their food in silence they got up from the edge of the roof they were sitting on and threw their trash away. Jason watched as Dick started to the edge of the roof before finishing patrol, stopping at the edge to face Jason to say something. Jason wasn’t listening, one second he was watching his brother leave the next he was hugging him. His face flushed with embarrassment but he couldn’t bring himself to let go. “Thank you..” he murmured, vaguely aware of Dick’s arms hovering around him almost hesitantly for a moment before squeezing him back. They stayed like that for a few moments before they had to let go to finish their patrols. If Dick heads back to the cave more chipper than he usually is after patrol then that’s nobody’s business but his own that he just got a hug from his little brother, something they hadn’t done since even before he had died.
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midnight-pluto · 2 months
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damian wayne doesn’t necessarily wear jewelry that often — only a few necklaces and rings could be seen on him, of the highest quality as well; him wearing a friendship bracelet is quite a surprise.
they were made by you of course, since you’re quite literally the only person he associates himself with at school willingly. you’ve known each other for quite some time now, so why not get matching bracelets to symbolize that?
“That’s a stupid idea.”
“You’re a stupid idea,” you retort.
he merely rolls his eyes, “I don’t need a silly bracelet to show that I’m friends with you, we don’t need something like that for people’s approval.”
“It’s not for other people,” you explain, “It’s for my own entertainment and for you — a gift.”
“Fine, you can make us one.”
in all honesty, he was expecting something simple for the bracelets. something just like each others names on them, not—
“Pissbaby?” his eye twitches.
“Don’t worry, mine says ‘Bitch,’” you reply nonchalantly.
“This has to be against dress-code.”
“We have long sleeves for a reason.”
he sighs, “My siblings are gonna drag me through the mud for this.” despite his words spitting venom, he still lets the elastic wrap around his wrist fitting comfortably and snugly.
“Hah, Pissbaby.”
“Bitch.”
“Your dad’s a whore.”
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cipheress-to-k-pop · 5 days
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bluetooth j.t.
Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader
Warnings: A little suggestive if you squint
Word Count: 1.2k words
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You don't know how you allowed yourself to get manipulated into being a girlboss and moving out of your childhood home to live in your own apartment. While it was nice to have your own privacy and decorate your home however you liked, you realized just how many privileges you lost now that you weren't in the care of your parents.
There was no one there to make sure you woke up on time in the few cases where you slept through your alarm, no one that you could call on your way back from work to ask to switch on the water heater so you could take a steamy shower immediately.
You didn't have your mother's homecooked meals and you didn't have your father to pick you up snacks from the grocery store.
And one of the biggest thorns in your side was the reason you were dreading the entire day. Car maintenance. The auto shop was one of the most daunting places in your life as a girl who knew nothing about cars. Never once had you regretted not learning how to take care of your car or even the procedure required when you eventually take your car down to the auto shop.
But now standing in the hot and dusty garage, you were seriously rethinking your life choices. You should've scheduled these things for when your dad was visiting so you could ask him to take it instead. Or, even better, you should've gotten a boyfriend.
You were complaining in your head, dragging your feet about having to be here in the first place and whined about handing your car keys, with a bunch of adorable keychains attached to some rando.
But when Jason Todd, 6'2 man with biceps that were larger than your own head and a body that looked like he was shaped out of marble by Michelangelo himself walked out with a form for you to fill out, you were all too happy to be there.
Perhaps you'd be leaving here with a boyfriend after all.
"I have to admit, I don't really know much about cars so please don't scam me."
Jason chuckled, a deep, hoarse laugh that made you a little weak in the knees honestly and the boy-crazed fraction of your brain began to imagine how he would sound as soon as he woke up next to you, after a night of—
"A bit of advice, you probably don't want to let scammers know that you have no idea what they're talking about."
You giggled, scolding yourself mentally for finding that funny.
'Come on, (Y/N), pull yourself together it wasn't even that funny. His face is just great delivery.'
"Or I could keep coming here and have you check my car, since you're so trustworthy." You mused, sparing him a teasing smile.
Jason was completely picking up what you were putting down, giving you a coy smile of his own before responding, "Or perhaps this is just a tactic to get you to keep coming back."
You narrowed your eyes playfully, "Devious."
Looking back at his little clipboard, a thin metal rod of some kind tucked behind his ear instead of a pen, Jason asked, "When was the last time you got your car checked out? If your battery and brake pad was replaced recently, we could probably skip that and just do a routine check to make sure everything's running smoothly."
You winced, "I couldn't tell you, honestly. My dad usually handles this kinda stuff for me, I'm still kind of a new lamb when it comes to taking care of my car."
Jason raised his eyes from the clipboard for a second, "Your boyfriend can't do this kinda stuff for you instead?"
"I don't have a boyfriend."
He perked up immediately and you ducked your head to hide your smile, "I'm sure you probably have a record of it in your glovebox or something. Most places keep a little sticker with the date of your last service under the dash. I'll check it out for you, do you have somewhere to be, or do you have a couple minutes so I can make sure?"
You shook your head, shrugging your shoulders with a carefree smile, "It's my day off so I'm free as a bird."
He grinned, "Noted. Just give me a second."
You watched his back receding as he walked toward your car, shoulders looking like they could span the entire ocean and it was only when he was sat in the car and had turned on the engine did you whip out your phone at lightspeed.
"Ohmygosh Julie, I think I just met my future husband. Holy shit. He's so cute—gorgeous actually. He's working on my car right now and God, those arms, wow. And those eyes? God, I feel blessed just by looking at his face." The end of your message was interrupted by another mechanic running the engine.
You waited patiently for the sound of the engine to die before replaying the voice message so you could re-record the part that got cut off. Only you couldn't hear a thing.
Confused, you increased the volume, taking a sip from your coffee to soothe the inhumane squeal that you had let out while sending Julie the voice message. Once again you heard nothing.
You bit your lip at this, swiping down at the corner of your phone at access your control center and realizing the reason you couldn't hear anything was because it was connected to the Bluetooth on your car.
Wait.
THE CAR?!
You whipped around in horror only to find Jason smirking at you from the front seat of your car. If the world were fair, you'd be struck down with lightning right then and there. Or, since you were at an auto shop, a sentient car might run you over.
Alas, you continued to stand there in horror, completely unharmed no matter how badly you wished to be reduced to a puddle on the ground.
You called him your future husband. The ground should've swallowed you then and there. Instead, you just stood there in complete mortification and embarrassment while you stared at his amused expression.
Something startled him out of his gaze for a second and he pointed at your console, making a gesture like he was taking a call. Confused, you glanced at your phone.
'Incoming call: Julie'
Ah, saved by the bell.
*
"How much do I owe you?" You asked, quickly popping open your purse to fish out your credit card. You had stretched out the conversation with Julie as long as possible, begging her not to hang up and only interrupting her tangent when Jason finally came up to you, saying that your car was good to go.
"It's on the house." He gave you a charming grin, leaning an arm against the counter, "Can't have my future wife paying for anything, can I?"
Your cheeks flared red, still holding out your card for him to take, "O-Oh, I couldn't, really."
"If you insist, then you can always repay me with dinner. Today's your day off, right? Think you can pencil me in for 7?"
A shy smile grew on your face, your body so warm you had to resist fanning your burning cheeks, "Sounds like a plan."
Forever Taglist:
@simonsbluee
@notslaybabes
@superheroesaremyjam113263
@writers-whirlwind
DC Taglist:
@emmacata
@p--e--a--c--h--e--s
@sometimeseverythingsucks
@sokkas-honour
@unstable1902
@lostgirlheart
@missdisapear
@tadpole-san
@isawachickeninatree
@uxavity
@battlenix
@capricorn-stark
@evermoore580
@dumbbitchgalore
@fuckingjinkies
@some-lovely-day
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chocor0se · 2 months
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AU where Tim occasionally goes out and does stuff like donate money to (non-corrupt) homeless shelters and small clinics and things like that and gives like $1000 to people on the street except he doesn’t hide his identity. Like eventually they realize who this kid is they just are like, well we aren’t ratting him out to the press like what have they done for us anyways.
And eventually a paparazzi sees Timothy Drake there and BAM, “Tim Drake-Wayne Seen at Local Homeless Shelter?!” is on every front page.
At first it’s like, well he’s obviously doing it as some pr stunt and he doesn’t actually care but then people start talking about how he would run around Gotham’s streets as a child giving away money. Then it becomes “Tim Drake-Wayne, An Actual Good Rich Man?”
WE’s stocks go through the roof and although there are some concerns about a small child (everyone’s seen pictures of a younger Tim at this point) running unsupervised through the streets of Gotham Tim is basically trending everywhere and even gets on some article about everyday heroes.
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disillusioneddanny · 5 months
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If It Makes You Happy (then why the hell are you so sad?)
Tim took a bite of his ravioli and looked around the table at his family. It was Sunday dinner. A monthly tradition where every member of the family adopted or otherwise came to spend a few hours together. It didn’t matter who was arguing with whom, or how estranged from the family you were at the time. You still had to attend the monthly family dinner. However, there were times when Tim wondered if anyone would notice if he stopped attending. If he no longer came to the dinners where he sat mostly unnoticed by the rest of his family. Where he typically sat in silence, having not uttered a single word throughout the entire event. Would they ever realize he was gone? Did they even realize he was there in the first place? 
A part of Tim truly doubted it, if he was being completely honest with himself. Maybe that was why he hadn’t been able to share with the family his upcoming exhibit. 
Tim was in his fourth year of college. Where he was getting a degree in Art, Technology, and Culture. It was a major that allowed Tim to immerse himself in photography, video art, creative coding, and so much more. He had gotten to work in traditional analog and digital photography. Played around with film and art in ways he had never thought of before while also learning about cultural theory, the expression of ideas, and cultural practices which gave him the chance to truly discover himself. It was the first time he had ever chosen something for himself. 
His entire life he had been groomed to run a business. To at first take over Drake Industries one day and then later Wayne Enterprises where he was unfortunately CEO. But then he had learned about the ATC program at Gotham University and he had fallen in love with it.  He had always been obsessed with photography and even film later on as he grew older and spent his days alone in dusty old Drake Manor. And he had always loved to learn about cultures, he ate up the stories from his parents and their trips abroad. Had spent countless nights watching the people of Gotham and how they did things, and had absorbed it all like a sponge to make up for the fact that he was just a lonely boy living in a manor by himself. 
Even when he had joined the Bats and had made his tiny little place with them, he still fell back on his love for learning about others and his desire to tell their stories. It had just become an intrinsic part of Timothy Drake. 
And now here he was, slowly creeping to the finish line. He had his senior showcase coming up. A requirement for all students who were receiving a bachelor of fine arts. He was to show off all of his best work from the last four years. It was a chance for him to show everything he had learned, and to display his work with pride. 
He had toyed with the idea of inviting everyone to it. To let them see the love that Tim had cultivated over the last four years. He was set to graduate in just a few months and the pride he felt for himself was tremendous. And if Tim invited the Wayne family to his senior showcase, then maybe they could come to his college graduation and share the achievement with them then too. 
It was a big time in Tim’s life and he wanted to share it with them. 
He listened as a lull came in the conversation and carefully cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the others. 
“I have a senior showcase this weekend for my BFA. It’s at six in the evening in the Wayne Arts Center on Gotham Campus. I would be happy to see you all there,” he said hesitantly, eyes firmly trained on his plate of food. 
“That sounds nice, Tim. I’ll try to be there,” Bruce said politely before going back to his conversation with Jason and Dick. Tim felt eyes on him, though, and slowly looked up to find his little brother giving him a curious look. 
“What?” He asked, still trying to calm his heart just a bit. He still wasn’t sure why he came to these things, why he was even here. Just talking to the Waynes gave him anxiety. Just being here reminded him how much he didn’t belong. How other he was compared to the rest of the kids that Bruce had adopted? 
Damian tilted his head to the side. “I was not aware that you were getting your Bachelor's in Fine Arts. Will you tell me about your degree program? I have been thinking about getting an Art History degree but have been torn between that and a business degree.”
Tim gave him a small smile and rested his chin on his hand as he started to tell Damian all about his degree and how he was enjoying the program at Gotham University. The rest of the family went on to their own conversations while Damian listened with rapt attention to Tim describing the ATC program at Gotham U. 
The rest of the week was a whirlwind as he prepared for his senior showcase, he had sent out invitations to everyone he wanted to come see his work. The Team had already made a reservation to take Tim to lunch before the showcase before helping him get everything ready. And as the day came to be, they had made good on their word, taking him to his favorite Vietnamese restaurant in Gotham before taking him to the gallery. He blushed as he listened to his three best friend gush over his artwork, as they listened to him explain each piece. They asked questions and made remarks about what their favorite pieces were and even tried to buy a few pieces only for Tim to promise to give each of them prints of his photos. 
The three had left with quick goodbyes, each one giving Tim a hug and congratulating him before they made their way from the gallery. The rest of the evening dragged on as people came by and asked Tim about his photos and the small films that played on the movie screen on one wall. He smiled and explained each photo to anyone who asked. He had wanted to showcase his vigilante photos of the bats and birds but it had been too much of a risk to do so. 
Instead he had shown off his photos that showcased all of his favorite parts of Gotham. From the beautiful gothic architecture, the gargoyles that looked out over the city. He showed the photos from the last time Ivy had thrown a fit in Robinson Park and covered the entirety of the grounds with flowers. He showed the pictures of community from Crime Alley and the beauty of the strength of Gothamites who had managed to survive the worst of the worst. 
He also featured pictures of his family, of Dick hanging from a chandelier, of Damian training Titus to do a trick. He had a picture of Bruce, Alfred, and Jason sitting side by side as they each read a different book. One showed Cass as she posed for the camera in her favorite ballet form. They were some of his most treasured memories, there for everyone to see and enjoy. Tucker between the one of Damian and the one of Dick was a photo of Tim. He had taken forever to set up the camera and get the timer right. Alfred had simply chuckled the entire time as he continued to offer to take the picture for Tim but no one was meant to be behind the camera for that picture. It was the only family portrait of his entire family. Cass, Damian, Tim, Dick, Jason, Bruce, Alfred, they all sat smushed into a single couch together, wide smiles and laughs on each of their faces as Tim beamed from the far side, leaning into Alfred’s side. 
The gallery was meant to showcase culture that was important to Tim. To showcase the life that he loved and treasured. And even if he never felt like he quite fit in the Wayne Family, even though he knew that he was the expendable one, the replacement, he still treasured his family. It was why he had invited them, he had wanted them to see just how important they were to Tim. And maybe they would realize he was important to them too.
Only, the rest of the evening seemed to drag on, and not a single person from his family ever stepped through the door. He waited, shoulders tensed and smile polite. Every bit the gentleman that Janet Drake had trained him to be as he stood with his hands clasped in front of him. He kept glancing at the clock, waiting for Bruce or Dick or someone to walk through the doors, to say hello and look at all the work that Tim had put in the last four years in college. The hours ticked by until it was nearing ten pm and the gallery started to clear out, custodians came in and started to clean up around him. 
Tim cast one final look at the doors before he turned to his photos and started to take one off of the wall. 
“Master Timothy! I am so sorry that we are late,” a voice said and Tim quickly to find Alfred and Damian walking through the doors of the gallery. A small smile spread on Tim’s face as Damian bound forward. 
“I apologize,” Damian said softly, staring up at Tim with disgruntled eyes. “I got into an argument with Father and then Titus scared Alfred the Cat and we spent the last three hours searching for that blasted cat and when we realized the time we came straight here,” he said. “What did the others think of your exhibit?”
Tim’s smile fell and he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “They uh, they didn’t show up,” he said quietly. “But if you’d like, you guys are the last ones to show up. I’d love to show you everything.”
Alfred’s face fell at that as he stepped forward and clasped a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “That is their loss, my dear boy. I would love to see your work,” he said. Before he could stop himself, Tim pulled Alfred in for a tight hug, burying his face in the old butler’s chest as he held him close. 
“Thank you,” he whispered before pulling away. He glanced down at Damian and smiled. “How about I show you my work and then if my advisor is still here you can meet her and talk to her about the ATC program.”
The fourteen-year-old nodded his head once. “I would appreciate that,” he said before grabbing Tim’s hand hesitantly. He followed quietly as Tim showed them his pictures of Gotham, explaining the stories behind each one before he showed them his favorite pictures. His pictures of home and both men let out soft gasps as they looked at them. 
“Master Timothy, these are beautiful,” Alfred said, stepping forward to take in the picture of him, Bruce, and Jason. 
“The lighting for this is amazing, I did not know that I even smiled like that,” Damian said softly as he took in the picture of him smiling at Titus. 
“Oh Tim,” Alfred said quietly, losing all strict politeness that Alfred held so dear to his heart as he took in the family portrait. “This is amazing, Timothy. So absolutely perfect. I remember when you took this photograph. It was right after Thanksgiving dinner last year.”
“I was so irritated, Todd had gotten mashed potatoes in my hair,” Damian said with a huff, a small smile tugged on his face. 
“I did not even realize that Master Richard and Master Jason were hugging in this picture,” Alfred said, a soft smile sti on his face as he took in the way Dick had his arms wrapped around Jason’s shoulders, a wide smile on his face as he laughed at something Jason had said. A small smile sat on Jason’s face, his eyes brighter than Tim had seen since the older man had come back from the dead. 
Alfred tore his eyes from the picture. “How much?” he asked. 
Tim blinked. “What?”
“How much for the picture?” Alfred asked him, turning back to the family portrait. 
“For you?” Tim asked, blinking again in surprise. “Free of charge, considering it a thank you for coming to my senior showcase.”
“I would like this one of Titus and me,” Damian piped up. “It would be lovely on my desk in my bedroom.”
Tim sniffed, his chest tightening slightly. “I would be more than happy to give you both the original copies.”
“Timothy,” Alfred said, turning back to Tim, that soft, kind, smile on his face once again. “I am so incredibly proud of you.”
The vigilante’s eyes burned furiously. “I-I thank you,” he said, a soft sob slipped out of his mouth before small arms wrapped around him. Damian hugged him tight, his face pressed against Tim’s chest. 
“I am so sorry that our family forgot to come to your showcase, Timothy,” he said stiffly. “You are incredibly talented and it is their loss for missing out on this.”
Tim pressed a hand to Damian’s back, feeling tears building behind his eyes that threatened to spill over. “Thank you,” he whispered. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he looked around and spotted his advisor. “There’s Professor Maheshawen. She’s my advisor. We can go talk to her and you can ask your questions, okay?”
Damian nodded and pulled away carefully, smoothing down the front of his sweater before he followed after Tim to meet his professor. Leaving Alfred to continue staring at the pictures with a kind smile on his face.
Alfred Pennyworth looked at the smiles on his charges faces and let out a breath. One of these days, Bruce and the others would realize just how important Timothy was to their family, how he was the one who held them all together. He only hoped that they would not realize that lesson too late in life. At the very least, Damian was now starting to understand just how wonderful Timothy Drake was. 
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ghost-bxrd · 5 months
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“This is where you live?”
Jason drops the duffle bag on the counter, “Yeah. It’s no manor, kid. I told you.”
He’s not self conscious. He’s not. This apartment is fuckin’ nice ok? He spent a lot of money on decor and proper kitchenware and furniture and shit.
But Jason also knows that, objectively speaking, it doesn’t hold a candle to Wayne manor and its fifty-something bedrooms. That place is basically its own country.
Bruce nods.
“I like it,” he says solemnly, walking over towards the window to peek through the blinds. The view from up here isn’t exactly panorama level but the building is one of the tallest in Crime Alley and Jason’s apartment is on the top floor, so it does provide a pretty good view of a good portion of the Alley. “It doesn’t feel as empty.”
Jason pauses where he’s resetting the traps and alarms by the door, glancing over his shoulder to where Bruce is starting to tentatively explore the living space and is struck by how violently out of place the boy looks with his rigid posture and elegantly curved eyebrows. Even the plain hoodie, faded hand-me-down jeans and ridiculous wool cap aren’t enough to hide how utterly not Crime Alley born-and-bred he is. Everything about Bruce is basically screaming rich-Bristol-trust-fund-kid.
Which, yeah. Checks out.
Jason clears his throat and clicks the security on, waiting for the small light at the side to switch from green to red.
“Your room’s the one down the hall to the left. Right one is mine. Door at the end of the hall is the bathroom.”
Bruce hikes his backpack up higher on his shoulder, eyes eerily vacant as always, but Jason wants to think that there’s a sliver of curiosity behind that steely gaze anyways as he inclines his head and makes his way down the hall.
As soon as the kid vanishes around the corner Jason allows himself a moment to exhale and run a hand down his face tiredly.
Jesus fucking Christ.
What was he thinking.
How the fuck is he supposed to raise a tiny Bruce Wayne with his older furry counterpart running around Gotham at night hunting criminals? Criminals like Jason?
Nothing. He was thinking nothing. And it’s about to bite him in the ass.
No way can he build a criminal empire and take over the drugs and weapons trade with a traumatized nine year old dependent on him.
God dammit.
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chxrrydrxp · 22 days
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I just saw the thought about dick spoiling his gf and I feel like it's just an absolute need for Jason, doesn't even have to be gifts (it could be) but spoiling with love and quality time...
yessss!!!!
Jay
I can definitely see Jason being a bit weary on what to buy you, honestly I can't imagine where in his life he learned about gift giving (my poor baby)
but also his memory is elite and trust me if he sees you window shopping or checking out a bag for a little too long- best believe you'll find that shit on your table wrapped in a tiny cute bow.
now with quality time, Jay knows you can get lonely because of his late patrols so he sets aside specific times to absolutely drown you in cuddles, kisses, sex, and anything he could possibly do with you.
I can also see him becoming very very very clingy after he gets comfortable with you and he almost never leaves your side.
dick
dick is amazing at gift giving. a natural talent developed from his long track record of...flings. (I love him but I know what kind of man he is)
he (especially Titans Dick) [AHAH TITANS DICK] is very possessive in my eyes and will almost alllllways have you decorated in his colors.
don't get me wrong he ain't doing that shit where he wants to make you look off limits but himself available to others he ain't one of those.
yall know the coquette ribbon thing?? on the biceps?? 🤭🤭🤭 him him HIM.
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tired-teddybear · 4 months
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has anyone written a fic where once Dick gets back from Spyral and gets to see his siblings again, he's extremely confused as to why they are surprised and pissed at him?
"i thought you knew!"
"obviously not!"
"i never expected Bruce to keep that from you! i just assumed he told you once i got out of the country!"
"...what."
"i'd never let you actually believe i was dead if i wasn't, i wouldn't do that to you guys. i thought Bruce informed everyone in the family of the plan."
"...BRUCE YOU BASTARD!"
they spend the next couple of days smothering Dick (who is so happy to be back from that isolating place and hug his siblings) and not letting him out of their sight. they also ban Bruce from talking to Dick and give him the silent treatment for at least a month.
(to most of the family's surprise, Jason is the clingiest aside from Damian. it's bc he basically experiences what Dick went through when he died and it's terrible. he has a lot more empathy for Dick after that. also, Dick is one of the few people he is comfortable touching, and Jason knows his older brother thrives off of physical affection)
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superbat-love · 2 months
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Bruce: Why are you kids making such a ruckus this early in the morning?
Damian: Father, the alien is taking too long in the bathroom!
Clark: [singing in the bathroom]
Tim: You’re jumping the queue, demon brat! Get back in line!
Bruce: There are over 20 bathrooms in this house. Why are you all fighting over this one?
Tim: The wifi signal is the strongest here.
Steph: The natural lighting is the best here!
Dick: This one has a jacuzzi!
Damian: I’m your son!
Jason: Because Tim and Damian are here.
Duke: This bathroom’s the least haunted.
Cass: [finishes tying Jason’s and Damian’s shoelaces together]
Bruce: Well this is my bathroom. Go get your own. If you start fighting, no, when you start fighting outside this door, I’m getting Alfred to bring out the water hose. [enters the bathroom and shuts the door behind him]
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nyerusnova · 8 months
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Glad to see that Tim being a giant Dick Grayson fanboy is finally being highlighted again, and sparking more discussion especially on their early relationship! (Please gimme more!!! I love them so much, augh!)
Probably as a result of that surge, there seems to be reciprocal chatter on the topic of how young Tim actually felt towards Jason, too. It's honestly pretty interesting, because it's more nuanced than it appears at first glance.
Which means it's very fun to dissect! ✨
There's a degree of subjectivity to keep in mind, because readers are going to have different interpretations of the same scenes, or will pull from entirely different scenes than one another to form their individual view on this topic. That's just how it is in comic book fandom, for many things! Regardless, in this case... if the scale ranges from the extreme of "Jason was Tim's Robin" to the other extreme of "Tim actually hated Jason [as Robin] or thought he was a loser that got himself killed" — the actual truth is closer to the middle, as is often the case.
At least, in my opinion.
Mainly I want to focus on those relatively early days with this post, to highlight Tim's initial(-ish) feelings towards his heroes, and touch on the point at which they really begin to change. This turned into a very long post, though. Brevity is beyond my skill, so grab snacks and water lol. Transcripts for each image will be posted at the very end under the cut.
So, the two storylines I want to cover are "Rite of Passage," which is rolls into "Identity Crisis." (NOT to be confused with the major crossover event "Identity Crisis™" which came years later, and is where Jack Drake dies.... But it sure is an interesting coincidence that Tim deals with the loss of each parent in two similarly named stories!) These take place before Tim is even Robin, and I'll be considering them as one arc for this post.
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Detective Comics vol. 1 #618 (July, 1990) -- Pages 1 & 2
"When Gotham needed him, he was there. When the Batman needed him, he was there. He was a hero."
"One day, I'll be as good as Jason. One day I'll wear the suit."
To start off, we have this opening from "Rite of Passage." Tim is still in training here, mainly helping Bruce with minor stuff from the cave. His parents are off traveling, alive and well as of these next few pages. He's still bright-eyed and full of wonder. An extraordinarily weird but ultimately innocent kid.
So his view on Jason is positive and fairly simple: a hero, and someone to look up to as Robin. Clearly, Tim here doesn't think Jason was deficient in his role, either as a protector of Gotham or as Batman's trusted partner.
Moreover, Tim already held Dick in very high regard because he was amazingly skilled before he became Robin. To Tim, that's not something he'll ever be able to achieve. Meanwhile, Jason wasn't like that. He was a regular kid without crazy acrobatic training since practically birth. Yet he still went on to be a hero—which is obviously motivational for Tim who finds himself in similar shoes.
It's true that Tim only ever knew or thought of Jason as Robin, and idolized him in that regard. But that's kind of all that mattered to him at that point, because he was this kid who was utterly star-struck by his heroes. Even if he's technically aware of their shortcomings as people, it's overshadowed by the hero-worship.
It was kind of the same with Bruce as Batman at first. (Which was still enough for Tim to risk life and limb to help his beloved hero, before Bruce even knew his name.) Dick was the only one Tim had any sort of "personal" relationship with beforehand, so there is an extra level of attachment—and hence why it was the nidus for his obsession with Batman. Yet even then, it wasn't like he actually knew anything about Dick as a person until later. Until then, Tim's ideas of him were all he had, too. With Jason, Tim just didn't get to know him at any point before his return (oof), apart from what he heard over the years secondhand (also oof).
Ultimately, it's the loss of innocence—along with the ricocheting bullet that is the unresolved guilt of those around him—that begins to change Tim's perception. Not just of Jason, but of things in general.
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Batman vol. 1 #455 (Oct., 1990) -- Page 13
"I know why they do it now. Why they put on the suits, and the masks, and go out into the night. They're angry, they're full of rage. They want to hit back."
Losing his mother was a major shift for Tim, obviously. This is right after the previous storyline, and Tim's had the worst week or two of his life (so far). His monologue here is a reference to what happened to both Dick and Jason. The unbearable pain of loss, the rage masking the grief underneath. And importantly, that he feels both of them were justified in their anger. (And Bruce too, indirectly.)
The major theme of the aptly named "Identity Crisis" is to mirror aspects of Dick and Jason and Tim's lives—to show how they converged onto the same tragic road. It's something that Tim notices early in the story, and was frightened by. Now, horrifically, it's become a part of him as well. His parents are gone, and he was entirely helpless to do anything about it. Dick was the same way, Jason was the same way. The cycle is repeated.
In particular, the part about him wanting to go to Haiti for revenge—for his mother—sort of struck me as being an intentional parallel to Jason and Ethiopia. It's a bit of a stretch, especially in isolation, so others may see it differently (e.g. the angry ramblings of a grieving child that does sound like something anyone might say). But it always stuck out to me because of how much Tim is compared directly to Jason in this arc. More on that below.
It's not something I can really give an accurate feel of because it's a lot of subtle things that begin to add up, so I'd encourage folks to read this arc themselves to see what I mean. (Or maybe you'll still disagree which is fine too lol.) Again, many things are in reference to both Dick and Jason in relation to Tim, but it's weighted more on Jason's side.
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Batman vol. 1 #455 (Oct., 1990) -- Page 18
"You think my anger will boil over, the way Jason's did. I can assure you, it won't!"
Tim's grief has begun to pull away the veil of idealism that enshrouded his heroes in his mind. It doesn't apply only to Jason, but to the rest of them. Plus add the fact that Tim's keenly aware that he's being managed, even if the adults around him are careful to not outright say certain things. He still knows.
Bruce, Dick, and Alfred are all worried about Tim potentially turning into "another Jason." They (and mainly Bruce) caution Tim to not ignore his emotions, but they're still concerned that he may be overly eager to prove himself in order to cope, and could get hurt or killed as a result. While they aren't wrong for their caution—especially at how unsettlingly similar all the circumstances are—they aren't very subtle about the elephant in the room.
Imagine how that would affect Tim's perception of his predecessor, especially when he's in the midst of a traumatic event he hasn't had time to fully process. The negative association is pretty much inevitable.
Tim's known from day one that he's walking in Jason's shadow, and now it's become inescapable. Tim went from seeing Jason as a goal to reach, to feeling that unless he surpasses him, he wasn't going to be taken seriously by anyone. However, as of this arc, Tim doesn't even fully come to that point yet.
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Batman vol. 1 #456 (Nov., 1990) -- Pages 14 & 15
"Drop-outs don't make it. And dead heroes are no use to anyone!"
It's really easy to take away "Tim totally thought Jason got himself killed" as the main thing here, but I think that's missing the forest for the trees.
First some context: Bruce has gone out on a mission to get Scarecrow, and expressly forbade Tim from doing any shenanigans. Meanwhile, Tim is grappling with wanting to prove himself and trying to help Bruce from the cave, all while trying to deal with his emotions. At some point, he falls asleep and ends up having like... exhaustion-grief hallucinations of Dick!Robin and Jason!Robin who confusingly caution yet encourage him. The main theme of this part is facing your fears.
Depending on how you want to interpret the intent of Jason's dialogue here, you could go several ways with it. Ranging from "writer's feelings towards Jason" to "a peek into Tim's mind as his fears manifest as visions of his heroes" or some mixture thereof.
Though Tim argues with Bruce that Batman needs a Robin, we're shown that Tim is understandably scared of joining Batman's "war." He's still not willing to let Bruce go it alone, though, and that's something he feels more strongly than his fear.
Meanwhile, hallucination!Jason's warnings are a lamentation of what happened to him in a way, but it actually exactly describes Tim's current situation even more so. Unlike Jason, Tim is under-trained, under-experienced, doesn't even have a suit of his own yet. But like Jason, he can't sit by and do nothing while someone he cares about is in danger. Tim knows that if he goes out there, he will probably get himself killed, and it will be his own fault. So he's about to disobey Batman's orders, and fly right into danger. If that got Jason killed, then Tim—who is in a way worse position experience-wise—has every chance of ending up the same.
Like... it's about Jason, but it's also about Tim. It's Tim's worst fears made manifest, via the representation of why he is even here in the first place (Jason's death).
That's my theory anyway, but perhaps this is an overly charitable reading of this scene on my end. (Not that I think that makes me wrong lol.) However given that Grant wrote both parts of this arc, and the beginning of which is especially favorable towards Jason, it certainly is something to ponder. I have a lot of thoughts on it I can't expand on here tbh but perhaps that'll be another post.
Anyway, returning to the point of the similarities vs differences between Tim and Jason: since this is the arc that solidified Tim as the next Robin in comic continuity, it makes sense that the writers really pushed the comparisons between the two of them, specifically. (Even though Dick was pretty similar, as going against Batman's orders is the Robin thing to do, it's not his shoes Tim is directly filling.) So making Tim's "debut" story arc mirror Jason's "swansong" is an obvious narrative choice.
To drive home the parallels, I wanted to include this panel from just a few pages prior to the "daydream":
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Batman vol. 1 #456 (Nov., 1990) -- Page 9
"The suit is magic."
That so distressingly close to Jason's famous "being Robin gives me magic" line (Batman #385, page 6). Given all the previous context, it's hard for me to just dismiss it as pure coincidence. Even if it is, the point still stands. Tim is shown having the some of the same heartbreakingly naive views as Jason once did, right in front of Jason's memorial, just as he's about to go and run off into the night against orders.
I think that speaks for itself. There's a lot to take away from it, if you so choose. Especially given the context of that specific Jason arc.
Alright, back to the main course:
So in the end, Tim actually goes out in civvies and a ski mask because if he fails, then at least he wouldn't bring shame to Robin's legacy™. When he gets fear gassed saving Batman, it's once again both Dick and Jason that he hallucinates encouraging him to push past his fear. (Shout out to the fact that he's literally more afraid of tarnishing the legacy of Batman & Robin than he is of dying.... I'm sure this will not be a recurring thing for him in the future.)
Tim's ideology is shown to be similar to Jason's, and the actions Tim ultimately takes are similar to Jason's... but the outcome is different. And it really isn't just "Tim succeeded where Jason failed." At least, that's not what I took away from this. Rather, Tim had no reason to succeed any more than he had to fail, just that he did. Luck combined with caution because he knew what happened to his predecessor, and the fact that Batman was there to finish the job all made the difference.
You could say (and I know some will) that it's just classic Jason character assassination and the writers trying to implore readers that this new kid is different we promise pls don't hate us look how much better he is! But in this case, that feels like it undermines the whole point of this story. It doesn't fit with what the characters actually say.
Thus, we return to the question of how Tim felt towards his predecessor. And the answer is different from where we started, because Tim is different. Not that different though. Because even though at this point Tim—like all the adults around him—has probably attributed Jason "going off on his own" being what led to his death, Tim still thought of him as a hero to look up to. It's about Robin, first and foremost, yes. But Tim is fully aware of the people who made that suit mean what it does, because it's all intertwined.
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Batman vol. 1 #457 (Dec., 1990) -- Page 20
"I mean--Dick made it into a symbol the whole world knows. Jason gave his life for it."
Even further, Tim thinks of it in terms of Jason having given his life for what he believed in, for the legacy that now falls to Tim. There's a sense of gravitas there. He's afraid of failing both the Robins who came before him.
Ultimately do I think Tim adored and loved Jason on the same level as Dick or something? No. It's not comparable. (Dick was like part of some of Tim's earliest memories and everything! They have a really unique bond ok.) Yet Tim was also far from thinking poorly of Jason so early on. Frankly, it seems that Tim thought of Jason as a noble hero and a cautionary tale. Yes he took risks and sometimes went too far, generally stuff that Tim doesn't want to repeat and all that. At the same time, Tim still saw him as someone whose legacy and memory was worth honoring.
It's complicated, which is why I like it so much—because it feels real. Having conflicting feelings towards someone is... so human. Especially someone you never got to know, yet who plays such an integral role in your life via the shadow of their death. How can you feel anything but complicated towards them?
It has to be said that, yes, Tim's views—even before Jason's return—change over the years. He becomes more jaded as a person and is surrounded by people who are even more jaded than him... and who often mention Jason as the "failed Robin." It's something that's hung over Tim's head all the damn time. The curse of the Robin mantle.
So it shouldn't come as a surprise that Tim's idea of him becomes more akin to "sounds like a skill issue" as the years go by. All bets are off after Jason's return, and the Titans Tower Incident™. At that point it's firmly "I am better than you, loser" lmao.
And... that's all without getting too into things like authorial intent and general "moods" of different DC writers towards Jason at a given point. Or retcons that played a role in his characterization and how other characters talk about him, depending on what "era" you're reading. That's way beyond the scope of this post though!
TLDR; even though young Tim Drake was obsessed with Dick Grayson as Robin, he still looked up to Jason Todd as well. He didn't think of Jason as a cringefail loser until later. :)
(image dialogue transcripts under cut ↓)
Dialogue Transcript for Image 1 (Detective Comics vol. 1 #618 -- Page 1):
Narration box (Tim): When Gotham needed him, he was there. When the Batman needed him, he was there. He was a hero.
Dialogue Transcript for Image 2 (Detective Comics vol. 1 #618 -- Page 2):
(Scene continued from previous page)
Narration box: But he was nothing special, really. Just a boy, who was taught--trained--brought to his full potential by someone who knew how. Just a boy... like me. I know I can do it. I know I can. One day I'll be as good as Jason. One day I'll wear the suit. One day I'll be a hero.
Dialogue Transcript for Image 3 (Batman vol. 1 #455 -- Page 13):
Tim: I hate him! I hate him! I know why they do it now. Why they put on the suits, and the masks, and go out into the night. They're angry. Full of rage. They want to hit back. They want to fill the hole that's burning inside them.
Bruce: There's more to it than that, son. Much more.
Tim: I know. It's just--I feel--like going to Haiti myself and strangling that creep with my bare hands!
Bruce: The Obeah Man will spend the rest of his life in a prison hospital. He's history. Forget him! But don't fight against your anger. It's natural. Accept it. Live with it. One day it'll be your friend.
Dialogue Transcript for Image 4 (Batman vol. 1 #455 -- Panels from page 18):
Tim: Because you think my mother's death has upset me too much. Well, it did. But I've taken your words to heart. I can cope. You think my anger will boil over, the way Jason's did. I can assure you, it won't. But that doesn't make any difference, does it? Why can't you have a little faith in me?
Dialogue Transcript for Image 5 (Batman vol. 1 #456 -- Page 14):
Narration box (Tim): Blast it! My head's starting to swim. I'm about ready to give up. I almost wish I'd never heard of Batman and Robin!
Vision Dick: Heroes never give up, Tim.
Vision Jason: You know that.
Tim: Dick--! Jason Todd!
Vision Dick: You're training to fight in a war, Tim. It'll last all your life. No matter what, you have to go on fighting.
Vision Jason: Drop-outs don't make it. And dead heroes are no use to anyone! I thought I knew better than Batman. I thought I could run before I could walk. I killed myself, Tim. Because I couldn't wait. Because I couldn't think it through.
Dialogue Transcript for Image 6 (Batman vol. 1 #456 -- Page 15):
(Scene continued from previous page)
Vision Dick: Think, Tim. Concentrate!
Vision Jason: You can do it.
Both: You can do it!
Tim, waking up: What--? Robin...?
Narration box (Tim): I must have been daydreaming. They're right, though. There's a solution to everything. I can find it! So here I go again... Whim. Caprice. Doing something without forethought.
Dialogue Transcript for Image 7 (Batman vol. 1 #456 -- Panel from page 9):
Narration box (Tim): The suit is magic. It gives you power. It hides your weakness. It makes you give it everything you've got. It makes you a hero. If only I could!
Dialogue Transcript for Image 8 (Batman vol. 1 #457 -- Page 20):
Bruce: Are you afraid of it?
Tim: No. It isn't fear. It's more... the suit carries so much history. I mean--Dick made it into a symbol the whole world knows. Jason gave his life for it. Failing them--what they fought so hard to build--that's what worries me!
Bruce: I appreciate that, Tim. That costume weighs a whole lot more than any symbol should... and I'd be failing you if I expected you to bear that weight. So... let me know what you think.
Narration box: A mask has a double edged, he said. It hides your own anxiety as it strikes fear into your enemy.
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ruenii · 1 year
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i had this idea where Tim has cuteness aggression and is just so bad at conveying it (well not like batman level but you get the point) that sometimes people mistake his cuteness aggression face as a 'im gonna punt you six feet under' face and tim is confused when his brothers or his friends get scared when he just wants to squish em cause they're sososo cute.
his family (except for dick and cass) doesn't know about this so they just think that 'oh god-- oh myfucking gofd-- tim is glaring at me again what the fuck-- what did i do???' and is just scared of what they did to cause tim, THE CALM ONE, to glare at them.
but tim is just:
tim, [on the inside]: awWWWW lOOK AT MY BABY BROTHERS!!! THEY'RE SO CUTE!! I WANNA PAT THEM ON THE HEAD!!! I WANNA SPOIL THEM I WANNA BITE THEIR CHEEKS LOOK AT THEM AWWWEEE I WANNA SQUISH THEM SO HARDD!! NO-- NO THEY WON'T LIKE THAT I HAVE TO STAY CALM!! ENDURE THE URGE TO PINCH THEM!! 🥺🥺
tim, [on the outside]: *glares at them like they just burned his entire supply of coffee and caffeinated drinks and disgust*
duke: did... did i do something--
tim: *clenches his fist*
damian: don't be such a coward, drake, using physical cues to convey your emotions are unbecomi--
tim: *walks out of the room*
duke & damian: ...
duke: oh fuck... did we make his mood even worse?
damian: surely drake hasn't been... affected by that *his body clearly shaking*
dick: don't worry timmy isn't angry at you guys :)
jason: i can hear him screaming what do you mean he isn't angry
dick: he's just... letting out some pent-up frustration..
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There's an anger in me (I think I learned it from you)
hope here needs a humble hand - series masterlist here
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pairing: platonic bruce wayne x reader, platonic dick grayson x reader
length: 1.9k
genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending
warnings: reader and dick get into a fight and dick is so mean. reader definitely has trauma and issues but Good Dad Bruce Wayne is here so it's fine and also Big Brother Dick in the end
a/n: I'm not a dick grayson hater but I do think he'd be the biggest bitch and say the meanest shit in a fight. anyway life is kicking my ass so bad rn so idk if this is even any GOOD but you can have it <3
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Alfred sighs to himself, a disapproving sort of frown finding its way onto his face as he listens to your raised voice, you and Dick butting heads again. It's not uncommon for you to find reason to argue with the others, but it is tiresome - frustrating to him that you can't seem to lay down this constant fight of yours that you live with.
And Dick? Well, as he spits an insult back and you and you shove at his chest, Alfred idly thinks that maybe he's your worst target so far. Dick Grayson may be kind under typical circumstances, but anger like this brings out the worst in him.
"At least Bruce wanted me," he snaps at you. "You just shoved your way in."
That doesn't just stop you, it stops everyone in their tracks. It especially stops Bruce, who had come into the Cave when he'd gotten word from Alfred about another fight. And there's just… silence at first. You, staring up at Dick with wide, hurt eyes while his anger slowly melts, regret replacing it.
"Hey, I didn't mean -" but you don't stay to listen, fleeing past Bruce and out of the Cave, despite his calls of your name. You don't stick around to hear the way Bruce rips into Dick about it, berating him for even suggesting such a thing, before he follows you up to the Manor. 
Alone in your room, with the walls closing in on you and your lungs squeezing painfully, your breath catches as you hear footsteps approaching. Bruce's knocks on your door are as gentle as the way he calls your name, asking you to please open the door.
You don't.
How can you? He's right, he's right, he's right - Bruce didn't want you. How much trouble have you caused since you got here? - too much, your brain supplies. And Dick is right, Bruce didn't want you… he couldn't have. You, with your headstrong determination, pushing your way into anything and everything that you'd ever wanted. You, with your heels always dug in and your arms always crossed and your shoulders always squared. How could he possibly want that?
You pace behind your locked door, pulling on your hair as your breath quickens, words you've heard a million times running through your head.
Spoiled, selfish, stubborn -
Bruce's voice on the other side of the door isn't enough to drown it out, his promises of, "I love you, we all love you. Dick didn't mean that, and he'll apologize to you when you're ready. Please come out, sweetheart… I love you, and you have always been wanted by me. You've always been wanted by this family."
You stare at the door as if glaring hard enough would make it soundproof, your breath still coming out in short little gasps as you clench your fists, nails digging into the skin of your palms. You watch through blurred vision as Bruce's shadow shifts and darkens under the door - you watch as he settles on the other side of the wood, determined not to leave you to do this alone.
"You come out whenever you're ready, sweetheart," he says gently. "I'll be here."
You scoff, turning abruptly away from the door - away from him. He won't stay - he won't, he won't, he won't -
"I won't leave you." Bruce's voice is heard again and you squeeze your eyes shut. It's like he knows, and you can't figure out how, can't fathom the idea that he really has been paying attention all this time, that he knows you and your ticks and your traumas. You curl up on top of your bed, determined to just shut down until it's all over - until he gives up and leaves you be. Maybe then you can leave, too - leave for real. Maybe it would all be better if you slipped out quietly, off into the city, into someone else life and away from this one. Maybe there really wasn't room for you in this family.
When you wake later, the first thing you're forced to notice is the throbbing behind your eyes and the light that streams in through the window, the sun beginning to set and bathing you in a halo-like glow. Sitting up, you notice a shadow still stationed on the other side of your door, having stayed, unmoving, for as long as you'd been hiding. 
Getting up slowly, you make your way to it, sitting down with your back against the door and letting your head thump rather loudly against the wood of it. It's only then that Bruce moves, shifting on the other side. You clench your fists on your lap as words get caught on their way out. I'm sorry, I love you, thank you for staying.
"Why are you still there?" Is all that ends up coming out, the words harsh as they cut through the air. You flinch at hearing them, your own voice hatefully foreign to you.
"Because I love you," Bruce says simply, like it's such an easy thing. "And I promised I wouldn't leave you." You sit still after that, turning what he's said over in your mind again and again and again before standing abruptly and wrenching your door open, relying on Bruce's reflexes to get himself up and standing by the time you do.
Fortunately, he's always been a little faster than you, always a little better. By the time you're looking at him, he's standing in your doorway, his shoulders slumped as he slouches down to look you in the eye. He's making himself smaller, you realize, something that feels like regret eating away at you. He's making himself small and it's your fault. 
But Bruce isn't looking at you like he blames you, and the way he ever so gently puts his hands on your shoulders and presses a kiss to the crown of your head speaks only of love. Only of forgiveness. You stand straighter when he does, a silent urge for him to do this same - for him to be tall for you. Maybe then, you wouldn't have to be.
"It's true, though, isn't it? You ask, something pained in your voice that you can't quite hide. 
"It's not." There's a way he says it, like it's written in some holy text somewhere and he's promising it now because faith demands it. "You are always wanted here. And you always will be."
"What if I never believe that?"
"Then we'll keep telling you." You shoot Bruce a look at his assuredness, one that just makes him smile down at you.
"Even Dick?" You ask, uneasiness finding its home in you despite your clenched fists and set jaw.
"Especially Dick, he answers easily. "I'm sure he'll spend a very long time trying to make up for this. He never means it, you know - there's this anger in him that he can't quite shake sometimes." Your shoulders slump at his words and you drop your chin, eyes trained on the floor.
"Yea," your voice is bitter. "That, I understand."
You find, later that night, that you wish Dick didn't care quite so much. Your mask covers your face, the hard set of your jaw and the annoyance that pulls down your brows, but in the faint moonlight of the docks, you're sure Dick can see the taught pull of your shoulders.
Thank god it's a slow night, you find yourself thinking as you perch on the edge of a rooftop, kicking your legs over the edge. You know he's around, watching and waiting and trying to find a moment to approach you. You think you'll have to find the moment for him when Nightwing finally sits next to you, his movements silent and slow. He looks at you long and hard, his own eyes hidden behind his mask as you stare out at the water, waiting for him to decide how this will all go.
"I don't always say the right thing," is what he ends up confessing. "And it wasn't fair for you to be on the receiving end of that. I'm… sorry."
"I started it," you say simply. "You shouldn't apologize for biting back."
"No," Dick says carefully, tapping his finger on his thigh. "But I should apologize for how I did it." You look at him, then, eyes searching his face and cursing the masks you both wear, layers of protection against anyone who would try to know you.
"Did you mean it?" You finally ask. "Is it true? Because if it is… if it is, then you should only apologize for lying to me up till now."
"It's not," Dick answers, and there's something in the clear ring of his voice that reminds you of Bruce. Your lips twitch into a smile as you think of how unhappy he'd be to find that out. "Things with Bruce and I… well, I'm sure you know they weren't always good." 
"I don't actually know everything," you huff back. "Even my eavesdropping has limitations - especially with all of you. You're a lot harder to hide from than everyone else." Dick grins at that, a self-satisfied sort of thing that makes you regret speaking.
"Well, it's lucky, I guess," he goes on. "The Bruce you know now - he's a lot better than he was in the beginning."
"Don't you think we all are?" You ask before you can stop yourself, eyes snapping back out to the water as you desperately try to close yourself off from him, heart hammering at the response you're sure to get. There is no part of you that's getting better. There is no part of you that can be good. But Dick just readjusts how he's sitting, sliding closer so that your shoulders bump and he can tap your hands with his own, a silent chide for the way you twist your fingers nervously.
"You're right," he says plainly, and suddenly you're glad for the masks. You're not sure what would happen if you looked over and saw that big brother, sick-with-pride look he's so fond of. "When Jason came along, it felt a bit too much like being replaced. I know it was a long time ago, but… maybe I still feel it a bit more than I should - whenever anyone new comes along. It's not your fault… it's not your fault and I'm glad you're here."
You sigh at his words, tipping back until you're laying on the rooftop, your legs still kicking over the edge as you pretend to look up at the stars, blinking tears away rapidly behind your mask. You're sure he knows, but you're also sure he's too kind to say anything, laying back with you and interlocking his hands behind his head to lean on.
There's a lot you think you should say right now. I'm sorry, I love you, thank you for coming back for me. Thank you for not leaving me behind. Thank you for not giving up on me. 
"What are you hanging around here tonight for, anyway?" Is what comes out instead, but you find you aren't so bothered by it this time.
"Want me to stick around? Finish your patrol with you?" Is his only answer. You huff.
"I don't need help taking care of the docks. I've been doing that longer than I've been involved with you idiots." Dick laughs, loud enough that you groan and roll away from him, standing up and crossing your arms. 
"Well, you never know, then," he responds easily as he swings himself to his feet. "Maybe we could learn something from each other."
"Fine," you snipe back, but you can't help the way you bounce on the balls of your feet, a weight you hadn't realized you'd been carrying starting to lift. "Maybe we can."
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midnight-pluto · 2 months
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being damian wayne’s first and only best friend in middle school is funny and at the same time very humbling.
like what do you mean this kid has the vocabulary of shakespeare and can still drag other kids physically and verbally??
yet, he still also doesn’t know basic media references and common terms used nowadays. it isn’t a problem to teach him those things it’s just, slightly concerning on how much he doesn’t know in your eyes.
so trying to be as best of a friend he could be, damain tries to pick-up on some of the mannerisms the kids his age have while also taking note of the ones you actively dislike — he isn’t trying to lose his only friend here, c’mon.
slowly but surely, parts of your vocabulary has been integrated into his. the words rolling off his tongue like they’ve been said a thousand times before.
it’s begun to slightly concern his siblings with such a drastic change in his way of speech that they started to doubt that it was actually him in the first place. but those ideas were quickly squashed when they realized his tongue was as sharp as ever.
“You’re too short to be talking.”
“You’re built like donkey from Shrek, shut the fuck up.”
HONORABLE MENTION:
[investigating a crime scene]
“…Where’s the hole?”
“That’s what she said.”
“ROBIN—“
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a/n: i’ve wanted to become best friends with this boy ever since when i was young LEAVE ME ALONE
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