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iriswords · 1 year

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Febuwhump Day 22 - Can’t scream

You can also read this on ao3 and find the rest of my febuwhump fics here

tw: the Joker, torture (broken bones and carving something into flesh), emotional torture

Fandom: Batman

Words: 2472

Tim and Damian are caught by the Joker while on patrol. He wants to play a game neither of them will like or come out unscathed from.

“We’re going to play a game, birdies,” says the Joker as he paces between Robin and Red Robin.

Tim and Damian face each other, tied on chairs in an abandoned warehouse on the edge of Gotham, their suits in a poor state and their dominos ripped off. The Joker caught them earlier that night before either of them could send out a signal, and brought them to the warehouse. Damian’s head is still bleeding slightly from the head, courtesy of the blow that knocked him out, and Tim’s own head throbs from a similar wound.

It is the first time Damian has ever been caught by the Joker, and Tim can see all over his face how scared he is, though he valiantly tries to hide it. It is not Tim’s first time, but he is equally scared. The Joker is always terrible news. He brings with him the sweet promise of cruel and sadistic torture. If no one manages to find them in time, they both know they will die, for the Joker does not willingly leave his victims alive.

Jason would know.

“Since I finally managed to catch two birdies at once,” continues the Joker, “I’m going to kill two birdies with one stone.”

Tim represses a flinch at the word choice. Damian sends him a frightened glance, and Tim is suddenly reminded of how young his brother is. Despite all his training with the League, and despite the amount of pain Tim knows he has endured, Damian is still a kid. A child who should not have to deal with anyone as dangerous as the Joker.

The Joker stops his pacing right behind Tim, fisting his hand in Tim’s hair and pulling.

“Tell me,” he whispers in Tim’s ear, “do you care much for your brother?” Tim does not answer. “You know,” adds the Joker conversationally, as though they were old friends catching up, “I love hearing my pets scream. It is music to my ears. But I find those screams all the more delicious when they are properly ripped from their throats, when they scream because they cannot do anything else. When they try so hard not to scream but they still cannot help it.” The Joker lets go of Tim’s hair. “I’m going to start playing with you,” he says, “and if you scream, I’ll switch to your brother. He’s so young. It would really be too bad if he got hurt, birdie, wouldn’t it?”

Tim’s blood freezes in his veins. He knows his limits. They have increased considerably in the time he spent away from Gotham searching for Bruce, but he knows the Joker will have no trouble reaching them because the Joker does not have boundaries. Tim will scream, no matter how much he will try not to. It is inevitable.

Damian’s gaze is steady when Tim meets it, his chin set defiantly. I trust you, he seems to be saying. Tim isn’t sure he deserves it.

A bat swings in the Joker’s grip as he places himself in front of Tim. He will start by beating Tim up until he breaks enough bones that Tim cannot escape. The only thing Tim can hope for is that all the injuries he will sustain tonight will heal without problem.

Tim braces himself for the first blow and does not so much as grunt when the heavy bat forcefully connects with his ribs. He can feel a couple breaking under the strength of the hit, but it is nothing he hasn’t endured time and time again before. The Joker will have to do worse to make Tim break, but it is good that he starts lightly. The more time he takes to make Tim scream, the more chances there are that someone will find them before Damian can get hurt.

The blows rain on Tim. More ribs crack and break before the Joker decides to move onto another part of Tim’s body. Tim clenches his teeth hard enough to give himself a headache when the Joker, after many targeted hits, finally breaks his left shoulder, but he does not scream. He doesn’t either when his right tibia falls victim to the Joker’s shattering blows, or when the man catches Tim’s broken shoulder with his bat. He nearly does when he hits Tim’s shoulder a third time, but all that escapes him is a choked whimper.

“You’re a tough birdie, aren’t you?” asks the Joker gleefully as he lets the bat clatter to the ground. His fingers hook beneath Tim’s chin and force him to look up. “Someone got you before I did, didn’t they? They had much fun with you, but I’ll have more.”

The Joker slips behind Tim again and unties the thick ropes binding Tim to his chair. As his body moves away from Tim’s vision, Tim’s eyes can finally settle on Damian, whose gaze is much less steady than before. Unshed tears swim in them, and his fierce mask falters when Tim gives him a shaky smile.

Tim hurts to see his baby brother like that, but he would hurt even more to watch him be tortured. Tim knows Damian will be brave. He just has to be, too, and save his brother the pain of being tortured.

The rope falls from Tim’s wrists and ankles, and the Joker grabs him by the hair to yank him out of his chair. Tim falls to the ground directly onto his broken shoulder, and pain erupts in his arm. A broken scream leaves him before he can reign it in. He pants through the pain, waiting for the fog to clear. Only when the Joker cackles with delight does he realize what he has done.

He scrambles forward as well as he can, frantically trying to catch the Joker’s ankle, as though that would change anything to what is coming, but a well-aimed kick sends him falling backward and grunting in pain.

“No!” he yells, but the Joker doesn’t listen. He prowls towards Damian, faster than Tim’s pathetic crawl, and picks up the bat as he passes it.

“I’ll give you matching injuries, birdie,” he announces joyfully. “This way, it’ll be poetic. I’ll write songs about the two birdies who hurt each other. But in reality, they only hurt themselves by hurting the other.”

Damian does not meet Tim’s eyes as the Joker positions himself before him. From where he is prostrated on the floor, Tim can see the tension on his shoulder and the tremors running through his hands. Yet, Robin’s expression is fierce as ever as he waits for the Joker to start the torture.

Tim watches, helpless but festering with rage, as the Joker swings the bat at his brother. Damian does not make a sound. He does not make a sound when his shoulder breaks—the right, a mirror to Tim’s left one—or when the Joker keeps hitting the broken bone. He does not make a sound when his ribs crack some more.

But Damian does not cry out and Tim breaks slowly on the floor.

Throughout it all, his expression stays even and Tim becomes painfully aware that torture absolutely was a part of his training in the League. He had known it already, but witnessing how long his brother can withstand torture without letting out a single sound is hammering the fact into Tim’s mind.

Tim wishes Damian would just cry out. He wishes the Joker’s attention would shift back to him. He wishes he would get tortured instead of his brother.

It takes the Joker breaking his leg in two different places for Damian to cry out. Tim has never been happier to hear his brother’s pain manifested. As expected, the Joker turns to Tim, leaving Damian slumped on his chair, breathing heavily. A solitary tear rolls down his cheek, and Tim promises himself he will not scream until rescue comes.

The Joker abandons the bat on the floor and takes out a knife, small but sharp, and glinting in the warehouse’s faint light. The Joker crouches down next to Tim, his head cocked to the side, and Tim would spit in his face if not for fear of the man reverting to hurting Damian.

Abruptly, the Joker stands back up and stomps on Tim’s shoulder. He nearly screams because of the searing pain tearing through him, but he grits his teeth and lets tears manifest his pain instead. Without warning, while Tim is still trying to work through the pain, too stunned to struggle, the Joker flips him on his back. Tim’s head hits the hard ground and the room spins around him.

Then, the Joker sits on his hips, and Tim freezes. The position is uncomfortable on his whole body and terribly painful for his broken bones. But what terrifies Tim is what the Joker is going to do. The warehouse’s cold air hits Tim’s skin when the Joker tears through his undershirt with his knife and exposes his entire back. Tim barely dares to breathe. Fear hammers against his ribcage and constricts his lungs.

It doesn’t hurt quite as much as his bones breaking so violently did. But the knowledge that Tim is being marked makes it harder to withstand the pain. He forces himself to be brave and endure the pain without a sound, just like Damian did. When his chest heaves and his throat tightens around a suppressed cry, Tim remembers how the Joker tortured his brother, and he swallows his scream before it can leave his mouth.

When the blade starts cutting through the skin on his back, Tim rests his head against the floor and tries to escape his mind.

It takes him four strokes to realize the Joker is forming letters. That he is carving something onto Tim’s back. Terror comes back tenfold. His first thought is that he is going to bear the Joker’s mark for his entire life. His second is that at least it will be on his back. His third is that Damian can probably see what the Joker is writing.

When the Joker is finished with his inscription, he starts again, retracing the letters painstakingly. It hurts more the second time and tears soak the floor under Tim’s eyes but he takes it silently. He muffles all of his pain, thinking only of Damian, even as the Joker flips him around again and his injured back and shoulder slam against the ground.

The Joker stands above him, bloodied knife still held firmly in his hand, and observes him, calculating. Tim does not have the strength to move his head and look at Damian. The Joker moves so suddenly that Tim cannot brace for it. The knife penetrates his abdomen with a force that steals Tim’s breath away. But not his voice. For the second time this night, he cries out. It lasts longer this time.

He cannot even protest, cannot beg as the Joker turns triumphantly to Damian. All he can do is curl up on his side, his hand pressed awkwardly against his wound. The Joker unties Damian slowly, singing merrily the whole time. The second the ropes fall to the floor, Damian acts. His elbow slams viciously against the Joker’s nose, and he stands up while the other man recoils back, a hand over his broken nose. Damian hops on one leg and bends down to take the knife that fell to the ground. It is still wet with Tim’s blood.

Damian does not need to make use of the knife. The warehouse’s windows shatter under the impact of feet, and their family drops to the floor as one. Jason visibly flinches as he catches sight of the Joker, but he does not hesitate when he aims his gun at his murderer and puts a bullet through his skull.

The warehouse immediately falls silent. Everyone is looking at Jason, but Jason himself is only looking at Bruce, his shoulders tense but his gaze unapologetic.

“It needed to be done,” says Bruce softly. “He did not want to redeem. His reign of terror has ended, and I’m sorry I could not be the one who did it. I hope you will all understand.”

Jason nods once and puts his gun back in its holster. Instantly, the vigilantes spur into motion and direct their attention to Tim and Damian. Tim passes out as Dick crouches next to him.

Tim wakes in a cot in the medbay, feeling surprisingly heavy. As the heavy fog of sleep slowly dissipates, he looks down at himself and finds Damian latched to his side, uncaring of the casts digging uncomfortably in Tim’s body. Tim finds he doesn’t mind either and raises a hand to card through his sleeping brother’s hair.

“He slipped out of bed an hour after he woke up,” says Bruce quietly from the side of the bed. “We tried to take him back to his bed, even offered to put you two in the same room, but he refused.”

Tim smiles. “Did Dick take pictures as blackmail?”

“Plenty.”

When Tim wakes up again, Damian is gone. For the next week, Tim barely catches sight of his brother. He manages to corner him as he is playing with Titus in his room, ten days after they were captured by the Joker.

“You’re avoiding me,” he says, and Damian reluctantly looks up from his dog. Immediately, his eyes fall onto Tim’s injuries, and his gaze shies away.

“You were hurt because of me,” Damian whispers, his head hung.

Tim sits down in front of his brother. He is keenly aware of the thick casts encasing his brother’s limbs. “I was hurt because of the Joker. So were you. Do you think you were hurt because I screamed?”

“No! I would not ask of you to withstand torture without screaming just to spare me.”

Tim would absolutely ask this of himself. But that is beside the point. Bruce already talked with him about how none of it was his fault, and though he talked to Damian too, it seems it only worked on Tim.

“Then why would you think I would ask this of you?” he asks Damian.

“Because I’m supposed to be perfect. Grandfather—”

Tim scoffs. “Damian, no offense, but your grandfather is an abusive piece of shit. I would not take anything he says or expect as something to respect. In fact, I would even advise you to always try to do the contrary of what he wants. It’s a sure way to do the right thing.”

A tiny smile plays on Damian’s lips. “So you’re not mad?”

Tim’s heart breaks at the question, and he draws his brother into an awkward hug, their casts getting in the way. “I could never be mad at you for something like this, Damian. Not even when we didn’t get along.”

@febuwhump

#my writing #creative writing #fanfic #fanfiction #whump #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday22 #torture #violence #tim drake #damian wayne #hurt tim drake #hurt damian wayne #tim drake whump #damian wayne whump #dc #batman #batfamily

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taralaurel · 1 year

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Febuwhump 2023 | Day #23 | You'll Have To Go Through Me

Prompt courtesy of @febuwhump

Tell the Bees

Summary:

What did you throw at him?"

"A week of a now wasted experiment," the child grumbles, flipping a small container over in his hand, "father will be most displeased."

"What?" Tim furrows his brow.

"I was studying bee culture," the stranger gives a spectacular sigh.

Tim sputters.

"You threw a bee at him?"

...

He is halfway home, later, when he realizes.

Batman and Robin have been facing off against some sort of meta criminal who can control bees.

The kid who keeps bees in his backpack is Damian Wayne.

Robin.

And he's kind of an asshole.

When Damian joins the Wayne family early, there are consequences. While Jason lives, Tim's parents both are murdered overseas and he is left alone - for now.

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gaeilgeoirgay · 1 year

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Whumptober 2022

Day 12! Took me like two weeks to start crossposting again, which I think is a personal record. Go me!

TW for blood

at all costs

Damian probably should have informed someone that he was following a lead. But he has a tracker in his suit and he is fully capable of defending himself. Richard and Father will probably chastise him when he returns, but for now, it is only a small mission, one he could perform half asleep.

Damian has taken the photographs he needed and met the informant who gave him the lead in the first place, so he supposes he can’t put off the inevitable dressing down. He knows Richard won’t treat him like an idiot, an incapable child, but Father is a different story.

He might be banned from patrol for this. If he is, he will simply use the time to solve some more cases through vigorous detective work. Perhaps he will focus on the drug smugglers Todd brought to their attention.

Damian’s mind works through what he knows of the case as he returns home, taking familiar paths across Gotham’s rooftops. Sometimes, thought he’d never tell Father, Damian misses the days when it was just him, Richard and Brown, defeating criminals and going on outings. They still occasionally do activities and Damian goes along with them, although he will never say karaoke is his favourite event.

(it is his favourite. they have a standard booking at the same place every two weeks)

Hm. He will have to look around the eastern docks. The western docks are Sionis territory, so these new smugglers must be operating out of there, he decides.

Damian debates surveilling the docks now, but he remembers in time that Cain and Drake are coordinating a sting there. He’d have to work with Drake if he went now, and the two of them have it well in hand.

Homeward bound it is. At least, that is Damian’s plan before a group of League assassins melt out of the shadows around him. They’re good, he didn’t even notice them following him. He also recognises them- his grandfather’s handpicked assassins, his inner circle, loyal to him above all others. Even if Mother attempted to sway them from attacking Damian, she would be unsuccessful.

One assassin, Amir, if Damian recalls correctly, steps forward. Grandfather’s favoured lieutenant.

“Ibn al Xu’ffasch. The Demon’s Head recalls you.” Amir states formally and Damian scowls. If his grandfather thinks he is coming back to him, he must be going senile in his old age.

“We have been instructed to bring you in at all costs.” Amir adds. At all costs…. Grandfather would use the Lazarus Pit to resurrect Damian if one of his assassins killed him. “All costs” include Damian’s life.

He really should have informed someone where he was going. Damian subtly presses a button on his gauntlet that will send a Mayday signal to Richard, and readies himself for a fight.

Amir sees the moment Damian prepares to fight and reacts as quickly as expected. Damian barely gets his sword up in time, realising that he is woefully outmatched. Amir was always a challenge to fight back home, and now there are twelve other assassins supporting him.

Damian blocks another blow from Amir and ducks under a slash from behind. Rania, he thinks, and then chides himself for getting distracted during a fight.

He manages to stay uninjured for four minutes, before someone finally draws blood. It’s a bad hit too, a long, deep cut down Damian’s forearm. Worse still, it’s his dominant hand, and although he’s been trained to fight ambidextrously, it’s still a hinderance.

He knows Richard will be making his way here as fast as possible but a fight can go wrong in a split second and he’s not sure he has the time to wait.

He manages to knock one assassin unconscious and get another out of the fight via their Achilles tendon meeting his sword. That still leaves ten and Amir, and they’ve only been fighting for six minutes. Richard is patrolling the Bowery tonight, at least ten minutes from Damian’s location.

He fights on.

Damian receives another blow, a jagged slice across his abdomen. It makes it difficult to bend and move, vital components of his fighting style. His arm is still bleeding, making the hilt of his sword slip in his hands.

He finds himself on the ground a few moments later, stars sparking in his vision. Amir looms over him, about to knock him out, when a black and blue shadow kicks him in the side of the head. Richard has perfect timing, as usual.

Amir falls and Richard lands in front of Damian, guarding him from the other assassins. A gun fires somewhere to Damian’s left and he realises Todd has come too.

It’s a thing of beauty to watch Richard fight, Damian thinks. He disarms Rania first, as she attempts to split him open. A short crackle of electricity and she slumps to the ground beside Amir.

Todd is fighting deeper in the alley way, while Richard stands over Damian’s prone self. His vision is blurry now, and he’s shivering, signs of blood loss.

Two assassins swarm Richard and a graceful flip gives him the room to lash out with his escrima. One catches the man on the side of the head and a low whine sounds as the stick discharges. The woman is wielding twin daggers, and Richard easily catches the daggers with his escrima.

A quick twist and she is disarmed. She uses a nearby bin to gain height, trying to get her legs around Richard’s neck to drag him to the ground. He bends backward, leaning into the throw, and shrugs her off. She hits the ground and he’s instantly on her, sure hands finding her pressure points and sending her to sleep.

Todd’s guns have stopped now and Richard is facing the last assassin. Damian should be embarrassed that his brothers have defeated his enemies in ten minutes, while it took him six to disarm two of them, but he’s not. He’s grateful they are there, and strangely proud of their skills.

Todd is League trained too, and Richard has League influences from Father’s fighting style, but they both have flair of their own. It’s evident to see as Richard executes a flawless spinning kick, dealing with the last assassin easily.

“All good, Red?” He asks and Todd calls back an affirmative. Richard kneels down beside Damian and carefully inspects his wounds, pulling some bandages from his belt to stem the bleeding.

“The assassins?” Damian asks weakly, needing to know.

Dick smiles tightly at him as he presses down on the bandages.

“Hood’s dealing with them.” He says quietly and Damian nods, leaning back against the brick. Richard is much more flexible than Father, although he doesn’t kill. But his Grandfather’s assassins would’ve have kept coming until they dragged Damian back to Nanda Parbat. Todd’s solution is. Permanent.

“You’re in for it when you’re healed, Baby Bat. You could’ve mentioned where you were going!” Richard scolds gently and Damian sniffs.

“My mission was perfectly successful. I was merely interrrupted.” He responds and Richard laughs.

“Hear that, Hood? He was interrupted.” He says and Todd barks out a laugh, coming into the light beside Richard. There’s blood spattered across both of their uniforms, and perhaps Damian should be repulsed. But they are his brothers, and he’s certainly been covered in more blood than this.

He’s not repulsed. He feels safe. It’s probably strange, but Damian doesn’t care. His brothers keep him safe. That’s all he needs to know.

#whumptober 2022 #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #dc fanfiction #blood #hurt damian wayne #day twelve #mayday

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feyburner · 10 months

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Damian can of course draw very well, but he’d rather die than let Tim think he put any effort in

Final panel text:

Tim: Got a little sidetracked at the end there huh

Damian: What do you mean?

#the answers he turns in to Dick: 1. fishing 2. camping 3. sports 4. the zoo 5. scientific pursuits #Dicks like :D i didn’t know you wanted to go fishing!#damian wayne #tim drake #dc #droring #i’ve drawn more in the past week than in the year previous my hand HURTS

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frownyalfred · 8 months

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I don’t think the other batkids give Damian enough shit for calling himself the “blood son.”

like what do you mean you’re proud of being related to that man? Bruce can’t maintain an emotional conversation for more than two seconds, drinks raw egg yolks, and walks into walls after not sleeping for 72 hours. he keeps flirting with his enemies and knows every Jeopardy answer before the prompt is fully read and he ruins it for everyone by saying it out loud every time. him????

#jk jk #said lovingly #Damian and the batkids need to mess around like real siblings #which means Damian says that and they’re not hurt #they just start laughing and giving him shit #like sure that’s Batman #but that’s also BRUCE #bruce wayne #batman #dc #batfamily #batdad #batfam #thoughts

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jasmines-library · 1 month

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Hey, I love your Batfam work! Is there any chance you could do a whump/angst one of batsis being kidnapped by a villian(you can choose whoever you want) and she’s tortured for days with it being broadcasted to the Batfam while they try to track the footage. I feel kinda bad but can you do maybe some head trauma md severe burns? Maybe she has to be put in a medically included coma or smth because of the damage? Also is there any way you could include Barb and Duke along w/ the four robins? If not that’s totally cool! Sorry for the long request but I hope you have a great day!!

Anonymous Requested: batfam x batsib reader whos the youngest and newest robin and is just really goofy and doesn’t take anything seriously (ex: them blaring “who’s the (bat)man” on the comms during patrol [that songs stuck in my head i had to mention it]) and something happens, maybe their first close encounter to death or a run in with the joker and they just become a shell of who they were and stuff

Jokes On Me

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: My god im so sorry this literally took me forever to write, thank you so much for being patient. I've been trying to write this all week but just couldn't sit down for long enough to finish it.

Warnings: Torture, blood, burns.

Word Count: 2.5k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

“Y/N, turn that shit off.”

Jason grumbled at you over the coms. You had been blasting some wretched song that you’d found on the internet over and over again and it was beginning to drive him mad.

“Nope.” You said, popping the ‘p’ loudly.

“Seriously.” Dick deadpanned. He had found it amusing at first, but it was now beginning to test his patience.

Agitated, you sighed and turned off the music. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Jason expressed gratefully, turning his eyes back to the road he was patrolling. The night was cool and quiet besides the odd dog walker or couple returning from an evening out. It was one of those nights where patrol would end early and he could return home to take a warm bath and read a book before turning in for the night. Or so he thought.

You were rounding the corner, humming that tune that was still stuck in your head when his laughter ricocheted across the walls. You stiffened, eyes widening and hands fumbling for your weapon as your breath hitched. No amount of turning and craning your head allowed you to catch a glimpse of the dreaded figure, and you thought for a moment that perhaps it had just been a trick of your mind, or one of your brothers playing a cruel joke on you as payback for winding them up earlier. But then you heard it again, only this time to your left. You clutched your weapon tighter, eyes scanning the area with a new found sense of urgency.

“Wing…” You whispered into the coms so quietly that you were surprised he heard it.

“What now?” He somewhat snapped.

“We have a problem.”

Dick’s heart sank through the floor, his ears pricking up and his demeanour changing completely. “Where are you? What’s the matter? He was trying to let his panic show, but you hadn’t been patrolling as a vigilante for very long, and while you were well trained, you lacked the experience to deal with something big on your own. And from your tone of voice, he could tell that you were in some deep shit.

Jason worked his legs harder to push himself to reach the direction he had seen you head off in. Albeit it seemed even his hardest wasn’t enough.

When he stepped out of the darkness, the first thing you noticed were his eyes. Wide and bright, easily mistakable for a cat’s as they flashed in the darkness; wild. Rabid. As he emerged fully with that infamous twisted grin splayed out on his face, you felt like a cornered animal; a deer in headlights. You froze, unable to move despite how your heart screamed at you to run as it pounded, trying to break free from your ribcage.

“He’s here…” A mere whisper sliding over your tongue, so fragile that you weren’t even sure if you had actually said it aloud. Jason had heard it.

“Who?”

The Joker was circling you now, dragging out his strides in lazy circles. You should have fought but in that moment all of your training had drained out of you, along with the colour in your face. He smirked, leering down upon you as you tried to keep your trembling hand still. He pouted in mockery and at your silence, Jason repeated his question to you, but you never got the chance to respond.

“Oh…Just an old friend, Jay-bird.”

“Joker.” Urging his body to move faster, Jason grit his teeth.

Dick paled. “You leave them alone.” Dick spat. It tried to be a command, but the effect was lost somewhere in transmission.

The joker pursed his lips, tilting his head as he analysed. One of his hands had found his way to your jawline and he trailed it with a cold, gloved hand. You wanted to lean away, to run and find your brother but you knew that now he had you in his grasp there was no point in even trying. “And why would I do that? They’re right in front of me. I could just…snatch them up.”

“Don’t you dare!” Dick was frightened now. “Y/N, you stay there as long as you can, okay? You fight. We’re coming, you hear?”

The Joker frowned at you. “D’you hear that? Big brother birdy coming to the rescue. How sweet.”

His grip on you tightened. “Too bad you’ll be long gone by the time they get here.”

With one swift motion, he had thrown you harshly to the side, your head colliding with the wall with a sickening crack.

The two boys skidded to a halt just a second too late. You were already gone.

Your head hurt when you woke up. Your eyes squinted against the sterile light. They did no favours to your pounding headache. With a groan, you tried to twist, to roll over and soothe the crook in your neck but instead all that happened was the jinging of a metal chain. You craned your head and spotted the thick chain that had been wrapped around your wrist, confining you to the chair. Struggling, you tugged on them, trying to free yourself only for them to rattle and scrape against your skin.

“Yeah, that’s not going anywhere, birdy.” The joker chided.

You glared at him through narrowed eyes, trying to mask the thumping of your heart. The joker grinned wildly at your frightened complexion.

“It was such a shame that Grayson and Todd didn’t get to you in time, but it was far too easy to catch you, little bird: you completely froze.” He snapped his fingers to emphasise his point. “Didn’t batsy teach you better?”

“Don’t talk about them.” You snapped.

The joker raised his hands, palms facing toward you in surrender: taunting you as if you were the one with the power in the situation. “Touchy subject I see. Too bad.”

He gestured above you to an incessantly blinking light. “Smile for the camera, you’re live.”

Babs had been monitoring the street cameras when the computer beside her flickered to life. She had been searching for any sign of you ever since Dick and Jason came flying through the grandfather clock. Everyone was on edge.

The moment the screen flashed on, her eyes perked up to watch it, alarmed. She hadn’t turned it on. And there were very few people who could bypass the caves system. So when she saw a small frame curled up in a chair she knew immediately what was up.

“Duke…” she called to the dark haired boy who was trying to help decipher your whereabouts. “Go and get B.”

It did not take long at all for everyone to gather around in the cave. Duke was fast, and everyone dropped what they were doing to race down: even Alfred had taken his leave from his duties to see.

It was almost like some sick irony because as soon as they were all there, you began to scream. A guttering, perfect scream that cut that through them like a knife: unclean and pinging into them messily again and again.

The joker had taken a knife to your left thigh, his smile dripping with malice as he watched the camera, somehow knowing that at least one of them would be watching.

Your face was contorted in pain, twisting in agony as tears rolled flatly down your cheeks from fearful eyes. Damian felt sick, his stomach churning. Jason wanted to leave. But all of them were stuck watching. Barbra was tapping away, trying to locate the signal from the video to no avail.

“I hope you’re watching this Batsy…” He moved round to trail your face with the edge of the knife. You whimpered. “I’ve got your little bird here and I must say, you need to work on their training. They were far too easy to catch.”

Bruce felt his jaw tightening and Tim had to place a hand on his arm to remind him of his place.

“Anyway I thought we would play a little game… how long can little y/n survive for. I wonder if it’ll be any longer than our very own Jason Todd.”

Jason twitched.

“I’m testing you here, Bat. Tick Tock.”

The transmission cut to black.

It seemed hopeless. Even though they had been searching for days, they were no closer to finding you. And to make matters worse, they could see you. Not long after the first transition ended did it start up again. It had been lifestreaming since then, and although they had tried to block it from their minds, it was hard to ignore. Especially when your agonised screams ricocheted throughout the halls.

You looked like hell. Dark bags occluded under your eyes and there wasn’t an inch of your skin that wasn’t marred or stained with drying blood. The burns were worse. Damian could still hear the scream you let out when the joker first brought the hot poker to your skin. It had bubbled and blistered as the skin peeled away; you had thrashed against your restraints violently. Tim was certain that they were going to get infected if they didn’t reach you soon.

It felt as if they had searched everywhere. Dick and Jason had even asked around to see if anyone had heard anything, going as far to talk to the Jokers closest associates in Arkham, but even if they did know, nobody said anything. Duke had even gone as far to go back to the area to use his powers to see if he could trace anything, but nothing seemed out of place; they had hit a brick wall. That was…until a small light appeared on the monitor. Babs had managed to trace the signal to a small building on the outskirts of the city.

They were suited up in minutes, making a beeline for the building. They stormed it, recklessly taking down the Joker's goons before Batman chased wildly after the Joker, his face stony and his fists burning with anger. The other four boys chased down the winding corridors, flinging open the doors until they found one that was locked. Tim wasted no time, picking the lock with ease he peeled it open. His breath hitched when he saw you.

Your face was gaunt, hanging low by your chest. Your suit was torn and there was less of it on your body than there was ripped away. You looked so fragile as your chest heaved sporadically.

Jason nearly had to take a step back. This place reminded himself too much of his own encounter with the Joker not too long ago. But he pressed forward, fighting his instincts. He had to be strong. Instead of turning back, he kneeled in front of you, whispering your name. His hand came up to cup your face. You flinched away.

“It’s okay kid. It’s us.” He tried to reassure you, but you shrank back into yourself.

“We’re so, so sorry kiddo.” Dick tried placing a gentle hand on your arm before moving to work on the cuffs around your wrists. “We’re going to get you out.”

You said nothing, just continued to stare at the black space before you, and Dami wasn’t sure if you even knew they were in front of you. But when Jason moved away from you to help remove your restraints, your fingers latched onto him and you squeaked in protest.

He sighed shakily. “Don’t worry kid. I’m not going anywhere.”

Damian twisted from where he was guarding the door. “We need to leave.”

Dick nodded bluntly, finishing with the last of the locks. “I’m going to have to pick you up, okay sweetheart?”

You barely registered what he had said. Everything had grown numb, you nodded anyhow. Moving his arms underneath your legs and slipping one arm behind your back, Jason began to lift you. He nearly recoiled when you cried and whimpered with the way your wounds jostled as he sprinted out of the building to get you back to safety.

You were yet to say anything since you came home. You had been back a few days and your wounds were healing up nicely thanks to Alfred’s handywork, but the air was eerily silent around you. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t been communicating with them; you spoke to them with gestures or writing but no one was used to not hearing your voice. The stark contrast between your loud and bustling personality and you now was unsettling. No one wanted to push you too far but the manor was beginning to grow lonely.

It was one particularly rainy night when you finally spoke. You were curled up in a large armchair by the window in the library, sinking back into the plush leather as you watched the raindrops race down the glass. Jason had been watching you from afar, contemplating whether to talk to you or not when he walked over.

“What are you up to?” He asked you, making sure you knew that he was there before he spoke.

You gestured toward the window,then to the half opened book at your feet and shrugged.

“I see.” He nodded, taking a seat on the armchair opposite you. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Jason wasn’t much of a talker. He knew more than anyone what you were going through, which was why it was nice just to know that he was willing to sit with you, just so you knew that he was there if you needed him. It made you feel safe. But you also couldn’t help but feel guilty, and frustrated with yourself for being in a place that made him feel as though he had to do that.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Jason had to do a second take. His heart swelled. “What for?”

You sighed. “This. When I saw him…i-i froze. If I had run then this would never have happened.”

“Shh. This isn’t your fault.”

“But-”

“I promise, Kid. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

You nodded, looking away from him. But then you furrowed your brows and turned back to him. “How did you do it? How did you deal with this, Jay? Every time I close my eyes he’s there.”

“I guess I don’t, really. Or sometimes it feels like I don’t. I still get scared sometimes. I still see him in my dreams. But over time it gets easier. I had people around me to help me. And so do you, kid. We’re here. We’ll always be here.”

Jason shifted to brush away a rogue tear and you leaned into his touch and then wrapped your arms tightly around his middle.

“I’m here. Always. We’ll get through this together.”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

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dragonpyre · 1 month

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Reverse Robins! Follow up to this comic where Robin!Jason meets a certain someone...

Commission info ko-fi

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brucewaynehater101 · 17 days

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Just read a fic about Tim finally getting post patrol ice cream and his own renovated room after admitting to never getting any unlike his siblings and now I'm imagining an AU

Imagine this, Tim is tired, pulling an all nighter, because he did too poor a job at pretending as Robin, and it's too late to do damage control. Not in front of villains or heroes alike

But the people

They've caught onto how the third robin receives less than the first two

Robin acts less like a child, less like a son to Batman, and more like a 'Business Partner's as he said with his own words. Like a handler

Robin who has to put work into keeping Batman from overexerting himself, from cruelly punishing those who fall victim to him

Robin who receives less praise or care from Batman and cares for both himself and his "Boss" as he said with his own words

And it gets worse after the mantle passes down to Stephanie and Damian because the people notices how even as Batman treats them better than the third, now rebranded as Red Robin—

—Red Robin is still as much a Business Partner to batman as he always has been since the Dark Knight's loss of his second bird

And as much as tries to keep things buried, word is spreading that Red Robin is black sheep of the batfamily, and he won't be able to hide it for much longer

Have fun with this idea lol

I know the fic you're talking about! "with the exception of..." by DSS1101. That's a good one!

"Home Decor" by sElkieNight60 is about Duke remodeling his room as part of the new Wayne member tradition. This brings up feelings in Tim cause his bedroom still looks like a barely used guestroom.

The concept you've mentioned gives similar vibes to a hc/au post I read about how JJ (Joker Junior) isn't known by anyone but the goons/Rogues, Barbara, Jim, and Bruce. All the other Bats don't know. In consideration of Tim, electric shock weapons are immediately put away when Red Robin arrives on scene (I love that idea so much).

I think, with the Gothamites around when Bruce was going on his grief spiral almost killing spree, people feel a kinship with Tim. They couldn't have stopped Batman and, with part guilt and part relief, it seems only a child could. They watch this child, who seems to be sacrificing everything for a brutal and cruel man, and how he pulls Batman back into the symbol he's supposed to be. It brings out the protective and parental instinct of a lot of people.

This cues civilians, goons, and rogues alike trying to assist Robin in small ways. Tim as Robin had people offering him food (in sealed containers), giving him compliments, handing him scarves or hats (how could Batman let a child out in this weather without a hat?!?!?), and more. They tried to give him small moments to be the child he was pretending he wasn't. He obviously wasn't getting decent parenting at home if Batman was just his boss and his real folks were letting him out to fight.

There's a kind of guilty gratefulness towards the third Robin and a protectiveness of him. All young Bats are treated with care by civilains and some goons, but Robin three was special. He willingly became the barrier between Batman and Gotham. A lot of folks owe their ability to work (and not have exorbiant medical debt and medical conditions) to Tim. He saved them by damning himself. He needed the support Batman obviously wasn't providing.

Tim, as intelligent as he is, doesn't realize the affect he has on Gotham's older population. The younger ones will react with slightly more respect towards him than the other Bats, but they weren't around to see what Tim's sacrifice did for everyone.

Tim, with his self-doubt and hero-worship of his predecessors, thought his treatment throughout Robin was the work of those who came before him. Of course Gothamites trust and help out Robin when Dick and Jason built that foundation.

He's not exactly wrong, but it isn't to the extent they actually do for Tim.

Unfortunately for Tim, Damian and Jason do know that his Robin was treated with such reverence. They don't know why, but their Robins did/do not get treated that way. They chalk it up to Tim being the "perfect" and "can do no wrong" Robin. It's one point of contention they are unable to clear up due to Tim not knowing about it and the other two not wanting to explain their jealousy.

Steph was not treated as well as Damian and Jason when she was Robin. She, in this AU, was not treated as much of a crutch as Tim is. Despite that, her Spoiler/Batgirl/whatever persona gets some of the protectiveness that Tim's personas do. Bruce was more healed with Steph, but he was still an ass. That was obvious to any Gothamite watching.

Steph, because she was around at the time and talks with Gothamites to know what rumors are floating around, becomes aware after her death of why Tim's Robin is held up with such respect. This allows, unknowingly to Tim, for them to reach more understanding. With her knowledge of Tim's time as Robin, she's able to point out how he was being an ass, what he should've done instead, and that she herself was sorry for some of her actions.

When more and more individuals cue into Tim's black sheep position in the Batfam, this could go two ways.

One, Tim is targeted more due to his lack of support.

Two, Gothamites and Rogues increase their aid to Red Robin and become slightly cold to the Bats for their treatment of him.

#dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #thank you for the ask!!!!#it's my hc that Tim's robin went through hell #part of the reason tim is great at making friends (even with people who have hurt him) is because he's trying to build Bruce's support grou #steph brown #jason todd #damian wayne #bruce wayne

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forgotten-daydreamer · 1 month

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Sassy Alfred ft Damian "I obviously don't have issues" Wayne content, you said?

#alfred pennyworth #damian wayne #hurt damian wayne #damian wayne angst #batfam febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump #dc comics #dc #batman #my ao3 #my writing

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iriswords · 1 year

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Febuwhump Day 11 - Fever

You can also read this on ao3 and find the rest of my febuwhump fics here

tw: sickness, passing out

Fandom: Batman

Words:

Damian is not sick. And because he is not sick, he does not need to be benched, or put to rest. He can carry on just fine, a stuffed nose and achy throat are not going to stop him from fulfilling his duty as Robin. That is, until it transforms into more than just a stuffed nose and an achy throat.

Damian is not sick. He is just… slightly unwell. And wishing he weren’t. But that is beside the point. What matters is that he is not sick.

“If you say so, Master Damian,” says Alfred in a pointed voice that indicates he most definitely does not believe Damian.

Damian scoffs. He is a Wayne and an al-Ghul. He does not get sick. Stuffed noses and irritated throats mean nothing. Not any more than the thick cough he has been harboring for the past two days, or the pressure slowly building behind his eyes and in his skull.

“I am not sick,” he repeats for Pennyworth’s sake, who raises a skeptical eyebrow. “My immune system is far too good for me to get something as vulgar as seasonal flu.”

“Of course, Master Damian. And we are lucky that it is so. It would be a shame if you really were sick and refused to admit it. Not only would it be detrimental to your own well-being, but also, and potentially more gravely so, to that of Master Tim, whose spleen is missing.” Damian snorts, but a wisp of guilt swirls in his gut. Alfred has very strong opinions about Drake’s non-existent self-preservation instincts, and though he never voices them, his facial expressions and tone of voice are more than enough to convey them anyhow.

“Drake will be fine because I am not sick,” Damian says and is overtaken by a particularly violent coughing fit the second his words are out of his mouth.

Sometimes, he thinks the universe amuses itself by purposely defeating his plans, or proving him wrong. He does not like it at all. Unfortunately, the universe is not an entity that can be fought against, and Damian has no choice but to endure its jokes and whims.

By the time Damian is done trying to cough out a lung, Alfred is handing him out a glass of water, his lips quirking slightly with the ghost of a smile. Damian takes it reluctantly, ignoring the sudden and ferocious pounding in his head.

“Thank you, Pennyworth. I’ll go, now that we have agreed I am not sick and thus need neither medicine nor to be benched tonight.”

“Do as you wish, Master Damian.”

And Damian does. Or, at least, he tries to. Focusing is hard when the pain in his head increases with each minute that passes, until he can barely think. He could search the Manor for painkillers. He does not have any in his bathroom, but he knows there are some around in the house. But that would mean admitting something is wrong with him, and Damian refuses to appear weak. He will just have to wait out the headache.

He falls asleep on his bed, curled up against Titus. He wakes from his nap feeling worse, and grumpy because he just took a nap in the middle of the afternoon like a child. He rolls out of bed, muscles sore like after a rough patrol, and slips on a warm hoodie to attenuate the shivers running through him.

Damian then sneaks out of his room, putting all of his training to use, and heads for Father’s bathroom. Damian knows it is always stacked with most of the common medicine they might need, and Father is away for the day, busy with WE meetings. The only people in the house who could bother him in his secret search for painkillers are Drake, who will not come out of his room unless he needs more coffee or the world is coming to an end, and Pennyworth, who somehow seems to know everything that is going on under this roof.

Damian has looked for proof the butler is not human, but he has found none, and he tells himself that it is only a mix of coincidence and impressive observational skills if Alfred always seems to know everything. Nonetheless, as he rummages through the cabinets of Father’s bathroom, trying to breathe through his mouth—since his nose has lost the ability to—deep enough to get some air in his lungs and shallow enough not to trigger yet another coughing fit, a hand knocks elegantly on the door.

Damian whips around and nearly slips on the shower mat. Pennyworth sends him a patiently impatient look, one that signifies he has known all along what Damian was up to. And what he is hiding.

“Are you looking for anything, Master Damian?” asks the butler.

“No,” lies Damian, and convinces no one.

Mercifully, Alfred does not press him for the truth. Damian knows he knows it already.

On the bedside table in Damian’s room, a glass of water and a pill have been deposited. When Alfred stops by later, only one remains. Neither of them addresses it.

Perhaps Damian should have listened to Alfred and let himself be benched tonight. His headache subsided in the early evening, thanks to the painkiller Alfred left him, but the rest of his symptoms have not. If anything, Damian has the impression they have only gone crescendo. Even the headache is showing its nose again, a faint, distant throb in his temples.

Damian follows Batman wordlessly tonight, not even throwing quips at his brothers over the comms. He focuses on his footing and his grapple as he and Batman shoot through the skyline. He lets the autopilot in his brain take over as they fight unimportant thugs. His movements are sharp and precise, instinctual more than deliberate, ingrained in his brain and muscles. But they lack their usual strength and viciousness, all of it sipped away by whatever common cold he came down with. No matter, Damian will be damned if he lets it hinder his work as Robin. If he lets it hinder Batman’s work.

Damian must do a good enough job of hiding it because Batman does not notice. He praises Damian for his efficiency as they zip-tie the goons they have just taken down and Damian thanks him with a nod. Exhaustion pulls his limbs down, threatening to make his knees give out underneath him. He leans against the wall and tunes out the world around him. He has a couple of minutes. As always, Batman will call the police and wait for them to come so he can hand the thugs to them.

Damian dozes off without meaning to. Batman wakes him with a hand on his shoulder. Two police cars are parked in the street, and the thugs are being shoved in them.

“Tired?” asks Batman. Damian shrugs. He is more than tired. But if Father has not noticed, Damian will not tell him. “We can end early if you are,” continues Batman.

“It has been a calm night so far. Or you can head to the Cave alone, if you prefer.”

“No!” replies Damian in a haste. His voice cracks on the word, and a cough scrapes his throat. Damian holds it in and repeats himself. “I am fine,” he adds. “We may resume patrol.”

Batman nods slowly, slightly doubtful, but doesn’t insist.

The calm night does not last. Soon enough, Red Robin calls for backup. Scarecrow has broken out of Arkham unnoticed and is preparing another fear toxin outbreak, and Red Robin just so happened to stumble upon his hideout during patrol. Robin and Batman fly to Red Robin’s location immediately.

They slap their rebreathers on as they arrive, and make their entrance through one of the broken windows. Red Robin is outnumbered in a sea of goons hyped up on a fear toxin deviancy. Batman throws himself into the fight, but Damian discreetly waits behind. His breaths are too-short and heaving, his throat itching with the desire for a cough. Damian ignores it, draws out his katana, and engages with the closest goon.

Hood and Nightwing join them before long, and eventually, the fight dies out, the goons sprawled on the ground, unconscious or wishing they were. Scarecrow is nowhere to be seen. Damian stands in the middle of the open floor amongst fallen thugs. He is struggling to catch his breath, coughing every thirty seconds. His head throbs violently, his blood pulsing against his temples. The world dances under his feet, tilting and turning. He is both too hot and too cold, his skin over-sensitive against his suit. He will not make it far.

Part of the strength of a good warrior, would say Father, is to know when you are defeated and to admit it. Grandfather would strongly disagree, but Damian chooses to listen to his father. He spins on his feet, looking for the dark shadow of Batman. He finds the man across the room, talking to one of the thugs. Nightwing stands over his shoulder, while Red Robin and Hood are hunched over something Red Robin is holding.

Damian’s limbs move sluggishly, all of his usual ease and grace gone. He stumbles and sways with each step. A low whine nestles in his throat. He wants to curl up under a warm blanket and never leave its protection ever again.

Ten feet away from Batman, Damian stops to try and catch his breath. His father looks up at him just at the same time. His lips press together and he stands up to his full height. Damian really doesn’t feel good. He opens his mouth to tell his father so but passes out before he can.

He wakes up in flashes.

Something sharp prods at his arm. He tries to take it away, but they don’t let him. He curses them in a language that doesn’t sound like theirs. Someone smoothes his sweat-soaked hair back.

Against someone’s chest, in a moving vehicle. Someone is barking orders. Damian thinks he is crying. He can’t be sure. And if he is, he does not know why.

Someone carries him, jostling him with every step. There are voices all around. Damian tunes them out and goes back to sleep.

Someone holds him up. A glass presses against his lips. He turns his head away. His throat hurts, and he doesn’t want to swallow anything. They insist. For lack of energy, he obeys. Then, they strip him of his blankets, and Damian cries. He falls back asleep shivering, arms wrapped tightly around himself.

The next time Damian opens his eyes, he is warm. The Medbay cot dips under his weight as he sits up. His muscles, still sore, protest against the movement, but he ignores them. All of his brothers are slumped in chairs at the side of the bed. Father is talking quietly to Pennyworth by the door. Damian snuggles against the blankets that have been given back to him, and goes back to sleep.

@febuwhump

#my writing #creative writing #fanfic #fanfiction #whump #soft whump #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday11 #sickfic #dc #batman #batfamily #damian wayne #hurt damian wayne

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aziraphale-is-a-cat · 10 months

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When Damian was a child, Thalia Al'Ghul made contact with a pair of scientists studying Lazarus water and instead of killing them or keeping her distance she manages to befriend them.

So as Damian grew up in the League, he got much needed socialization with the Fenton children under the guise of ensuring exposure to the pits wasn't impeding his development.

So years later when the Bats need information about either ghosts or the Infinite Realms, Damian lets up that he knows a guy.

But when they go visit Danny, Damian's brothers just can't figure out why he seems so nervous about it- until Danny opens the door and Damian just melts a little.

He's never gonna live this down.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #damian wayne #dead serious #robin #thalia al ghul #Danny's just happy to have him around #plus it doesnt hurt Damian's hotter than he is crazy (such a hard bar to meet in amity)#meanwhile dick tim and jason are all making kissy faces behind his back while damian fights for his dignity infront of his childhood crush

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allyendergirl · 5 months

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The person Jason has the hardest time warming up to when he’s in the process of assimilating into the family again, is Dick.

Dick hated him when Jason was a kid. And with all that hatred, Dick reminded Jason of Willis. Sure Dick never laid a hand on him like Willis did, but he sure looked like he wanted to.

The glares of hatred that Jason was on the receiving ends of sent Jason spiraling into a PTSD attack more than once. Dick’s glares we’re always filled with so much more vitriol than Willis’ were. The thing that terrified Jason most about Dick’s glares was that Dick did them when he was sober, unlike Willis.

Dick also sounded like Willis, with his heavy angry footsteps stomping all over the manor, just like Willis’ sounded around the apartment. Dick would throw things against walls, break doors and chairs, rip cabinet doors right off their hinges, something that Willis wasn’t even able to do. Willis would hit and throw things, but he never broke them, they were too poor for that, even Willis realized that.

And the shouting. Dick never got far when it came to shouting at Jason, Alfred or Bruce would always shut that shit down on site. Physically dragging Dick away from him so he wouldn’t say something triggering to Jason. But watching a nearly grown man, practically feral with anger, looking like he wants to kill you, be dragged away from you by your older family members wasn’t a calming sight either. And the sound of Bruce and Dick shouting from behind closed doors was a staple noise during Jason’s time in the manor, just like Willis’ yelling was in his time at the apartment.

Sure Dick’s anger was different than Willis’ anger. Dick’s anger was a righteous fury that was big and explosive like a munitions shed on fire. Willis’ anger was solid and dark, festering and painful like acid forced in your mouth. But that didn’t mean that Dick wasn’t scary. That all of Dick’s traits that he unknowingly shared with Willis didn’t unsettle and haunt Jason.

Dick was never kind to Jason while in the manor. So seeing Dick after Jason’s death, and seeing him filled with joy, looking so soft compared to what Jason knew him as. It was a shock. Of course Jason knew that people can change, just look at him pre and post death. But to see Dick smile at Tim, smile at Robin was like a cold water gut wrenching feeling in his stomach. It was weird. It was unlike the Dick he knew in every way. And yet there Dick was looking after Tim and Damian as a big brother should, when that was all Jason ever wanted from Dick when he was a child. To see Dick give that to Tim and Damian so freely when it was withheld so viciously from Jason, made Jason want to cry. Cry at how unfair it was. Scream to know what had made Dick have such a drastic change of heart? Did Jason really have to die for Dick to want a brother? Did Jason have to die for Dick to see that how he treated Jason was wrong? Did Jason have to die for Dick to realize that he should never treat a child that way? Did Jason have to die for him to be worthy of Dick’s love?

Did Jason have to be a martyr for his younger brothers?

Did Jason have to pretend that Dick’s torment over him just, never happened?

How do you go about mending such a Brocken relationship? A relationship that was barely even there to begin with.

Does Dick even feel sorry for what he did to Jason? Does Dick even realize what he did to Jason?

Will Dick and Jason ever be able to be brothers like this? After all this time, after all the violence?

Would Jason even be able to forgive Dick?

Would Jason be ready to confront that fact that he already has. Because if forgiving Dick, and all the yelling, and the threatening, all the screaming, all the breaking got Dick to smile at him like that, like a brother, like family. Then, it would be worth it.

Wouldn’t it?

#fanfiction #this is NOT based is any sort of canon in any type of way #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #willis todd #dicks anger issues #tim drake #damian wayne #if you fuckers use this as an excuse to hate on dick grayson loving older brother extraordinaire I will hurt you

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 5 months

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.⋆｡You're Gonna Go Far｡⋆.

Batsis!reader

We ain't angry at you, love You're the greatest thing we've lost

Warnings: older sister syndrome, angst, mentions of Jason’s death (seriously Lou not every fic), hurt/comfort, all platonic

Stick Season (We'll All Be Here Forever)

The letter in your hands felt far heavier than the small envelope of papers should have felt. You knew already what it said, what it meant and by god it was tempting to just shove it into your desk drawer and forget about it.

But you couldn’t forget, not when the words inked on those white pages meant that you could finally follow your dreams. Your thumb traced along the emblem at the top right corner of the letter as you read over the excited paragraph of acceptance yet again. It was a spur of the moment thing, a brief lapse into insanity when everything got to be too much and now, the consequences had come.

Could you go? Could you really leave all this behind and do the things you’ve always wanted to do? The seed of hope began to sprout in your chest, slowly weaving through the years of responsibility and obligation you had used to bury it as deep as you could.

But then, you heard muffled arguments through your bedroom door, seeping in like a thick fog. It brushed against your feet, sending a freezing chill through your body. It licked at your fingertips until you couldn’t stand the cold.

Quickly, you shoved the envelope and the letter into the bottom of your trashcan and stood. “What are you fuckheads fighting about this time?” Your siblings responded with more shouting and as you left your bedroom, you doused that little bit of hope with the poison of your duty.

——————

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” The question hung in the stale air for a moment, looming over you as you worked on sharpening Damian’s favourite sword. Your father was sitting at the massive wall of screens, wearing all of his uniform except for the cowl. A pensive look on his face, he seemingly couldn’t meet your eyes.

“A dinosaur cowboy rockstar.” You snipped back. The letter flashed through your mind but disappeared quickly enough with another pull of the blade against the sharpening stone. Bruce’s brow furrowed.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You sighed heavily through your nose as your shoulders tensed with the blowout that was about to happen. His eyes pierced into you, watching you with that same bit of intensity they had the first time you donned the Robin suit.

The leather hilt of the blade creaked with the strength of your grip and the cave settled into a tense silence. But you couldn’t feel that anger that you used to when he asked that question any time before, all you felt was that overwhelming, devastating sadness of what your life could have been.

The first time was when Dick left; Bruce wanted comfort, to know that what he had condemned you and your brother to do was right. You had swallowed down that anger, the urge to scream at him and blame him for everything in favour of telling him exactly what he wanted to hear. “I’ve always wanted to help people and being Robin was the best thing I could be.”

It was after Jason’s funeral when he asked next. Your eyes were still swollen with your tears, your shirt ruined from where Dick had been clinging to you and the bruises from the explosion that took your little brother not yet healed. You had refused to answer him, just telling him to get some rest and that the mantle of Batman would be yours until Alfred determined him fit for the field once more.

You supposed this time had been brought on by Tim’s departure to college barely a week ago. The house was noticeably dimmer without the boy genius and it had quite obviously been affecting your father. You nor Dick or Jason ever got the chance to go to college so it was a massive change.

The bite of your nails into the palm of your hand brought you back into focus where your father was watching you, unblinking. Bruce was a patient man, you’ll give him that.

“Why exactly does it matter? I have a job to do here- protect my brothers, protect the city, protect you in that order, just like you taught me.” His flinch was almost imperceptible to the untrained eye but you were far from untrained.

“Is that really what you want out of your life?” He was probing for something and you didn’t really care. The blade slid easily back into its sheath as you approached the wall of weaponry behind you.

“What I may want isn’t relevant here, I’m doing what I can- is that enough for you?” With more force than necessary, you slammed the sword into place, turning your back on your father. “I have shit to do, call me if you need backup.”

——————

You had been avoiding your room like the plague for three days now. Each time you stepped foot in there, all you could think about was the letter and how the deadline for the offer was drawing ever closer. The easiest solution would just be to throw it out or even calling the university to tell them that you were declining their offer but the easy way of doing things was not your style.

Instead, you started staying up all night and crashing on the couch whenever you needed a power nap. You weren’t dense enough to think that your family hadn’t noticed your change in behaviour but they at least didn’t mention it and you were grateful for that.

“Hey Dams, I need you for a second.” Ever eager to avoid his homework, your youngest brother perked up, his undivided attention now firmly on you. You chuckled softly. “Can you go grab my charger from my room, it should be on my desk.”

“Tt, so forgetful.” He muttered but obeyed anyway, leaving you smiling softly as you returned to your book.

You hadn’t noticed how long he had been gone until it was Jason that strolled into your father’s office. Still donned in his leather jacket, hair still damp from the rain that had only just started, he looked like a mess. “I thought you vowed never to come back.” You quipped.

“Har har, you’re still annoying as shit I see.” But even with his harsh tone, Jason plopped himself next to you on the couch and leaned his head on your shoulder. “Are you ever gonna get outta here?”

Your eyes flicked to your not so little brother. “Why is everyone asking me that, I mean if you want me to move out, I can.” You brushed off with a laugh.

“You don’t have to stay y’a know, you can go if you want. No one would be angry at you.” Your heart clenched painfully in your chest. That little seedling of hope began to come back to life once again, tentatively putting out roots.

“Where would I go Jay-bird?” He shook his head, forcing his face into your neck just like he would do when he was little.

“Anywhere, somewhere far from here.”

“But then who would be around to protect you Robins hm?”

“We aren’t little anymore, we can take care of ourselves.” You wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders and kissed the top of his head. Before you could respond, the office door opened once more and most of the rest of your family filed in.

Each of them looked haunted and almost withdrawn, save for Damian who angrily stomped over to you, and shoved Jason off of you so he could crawl onto your lap. “Who died?” You let your youngest brother wrap your arms around him as you made eye contact with your father.

But it was Dick that stepped forward, a piece of paper in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell us?” His voice shook with that unique mixture of rage and heartbreak that it seemed only he could perfect. The paper trembled in his hands, making the embossment at the top visible.

You poked Damian on his side. “I told you to stop looking through my stuff, you little shit.”

“Couldn’t find your charger.” He responded indigently, his fingers curling into your shirt.

“This is a big deal miss, not just anyone gets into this university.” Alfred, ever the peacemaker, laid a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “You should have told us.”

“It’s nothing, it was a lapse of judgement. I wouldn’t leave you all.” You brushed off but evidently, that wasn’t good enough for anyone. Dick and Jason scoffed while Bruce just looked like he was about to cry.

“You could go, leave this place and you’re giving it up for some idea that we need protecting? That’s fucking stupid.” Jason shoved himself away from you, angrily rising to his feet as he ran a hand through his hair. “You have a real shot here.”

“Is that what this is, some kind of fucking intervention? My life is my own thank you very much, I don’t need all of you telling me what I can or cannot do.” You tried to pry Damian from you in some vain attempt to get away from the conversation but that sneaky shit had dug his fingers into your shirt so tightly that there was no way you were getting him off of you without ripping off your shirt.

The roots were taking hold and it made you feel like shit. Who were you to leave this all behind when it could so easily be ripped away from you? You were needed here, your purpose was here not at some college where you couldn’t be there to protect your brothers.

“We’ll be ok, you can go.” You shook your head, biting back tears that were already building. Bruce came closer, taking your face between his hands. “I have put too much on you, I should have realised long ago. I’m sorry Birdie.”

“You haven’t called me that since I was 12.” Your father laughed sadly.

“Oh my girl, I haven’t been a good father to you have I?” His calloused thumbs wiped away the tears that you hadn’t realised were now steadily rolling down your full cheeks.

“You were never a good dad.” Jason scoffed which was quickly followed by a yelp as Dick elbowed him in the stomach.

“They’re having a moment.”

“I put so much weight on your shoulders, it was my job to protect all of you but I don’t think I’ve done a very good job at that. This shouldn’t be your dream, you deserve to make a life for yourself without having to worry about all of us.” It was so strange to see your father laid so bare in front of you, freely admitting his mistakes. “You deserve so much more than this.”

You looked at your brothers as if they would give you some excuse to stay, to reject that offer but their faces remained stern if not a little sad. “You can go sis.” Dick nodded.

“You’ve done more than enough for us, I think it’s time that we pick up the slack.” Jason bumped him with his shoulder and gave you a big grin. “Besides, I think it would be nice for you to actually have a social life instead of nagging us all the time.”

Alfred spoke again. “I believe what Master Jason is trying to say is that we won’t hold you back from chasing your dreams. In fact, we are actually quite proud of you.”

A solid weight against your chest brought your gaze back down to the youngest of the group. “Damian?” You knew that boy was incredibly attached to you and would take some kind of issue with you leaving to go study somewhere else.

“If you don’t go, I will never talk to you again.”

“Well I guess that settles it.” You said thickly, struggling to speak through the lump in your throat. “I’m going to college!” Bruce didn’t hesitate to scoop you into his arms in a hug so tight you felt your ribs creak. Damian whined a slight protest but made no move to slip out from your arms.

“Good because Tim already accepted the offer for you, you start in a couple months.” As your laughter filled the room, the hope in your chest blossomed, casting your guilt and pain into the shadows of its petals.

[Verse 1] The only time I got to praying for a red light Was when I saw your destination as a deadline "This is normal conversation, babe, it's all fine" Making quiet calculations where the fault lies This is good land, or at least it was It takes a strong hand and a sound mind [Verse 2] The college kids are getting so young, ain't they? They're correcting all the grammar on a spray paint And I even gave up driving after nightfall I got tired of the frat boys with their brights on This is good land, or at least it was It takes a strong hand and a sound mind [Pre-Chorus] It makes me smile to know when things get hard Ooh-ooh, you'll be far Ooh-ooh, you'll bе far from here And, while I clеan shit up in the yard Ooh-ooh, you'll be far Ooh-ooh, you'll be far, far from here [Chorus] So, pack up your car, put a hand on your heart Say whatever you feel, be wherever you are We ain't angry at you, love You're the greatest thing we've lost The birds will still sing Your folks will still fight The boards will still creak The leaves will still die We ain't angry at you, love We'll be waiting for you, love [Post-Chorus] And we'll all be here forever And we'll all be here forever We sure will [Verse 3] We're overdue for a revival We spent so long just getting by That's the thing about survival Who the hell— who the hell likes livin' just to die? You told me you would make a difference Well, I got drunk and shut you down It won't be by your own volition If you step foot outside this town But it's all we've had For always [Chorus] So, pack up your car, put a hand on your heart Say whatever you feel, be wherever you are We ain't angry at you, love You're the greatest thing we've lost The birds will still sing Your folks will still fight The boards will still creek The leaves will still die We ain't angry at you, love We'll be waiting for you, love [Post-Chorus] And we'll all be here forever And we'll all be here forever [Outro] You're gonna go far You're gonna go far You're gonna go far You're gonna go far Yes, you are (Ooh-ooh) If you wanna go far Then you gotta go far

All works

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jasmines-library · 1 month

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I know i’ve already sent in a lot of requests, i practically live in your inbox(not sorry), but i just wanted to know if you could whip up some really angsty stuff?

Maybe something with reader being on patrol and she just randomly passes out and just won’t wake up again?

idk, i’m just craving your content😞🙏

Veins

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Note: Anything for you my love. Dont feel bad for sending them in, i smile everytime your name is in my inbox. sorry for the wait. :))

Warnings: Poison/drugging, passing out, needles, ivs but non graphic

Word Count: 1.3k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

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There it was again. That funny feeling. You couldn’t quite place it, but it tickled the back of your mind. Physically, you felt fine. There was just something off about the whole night. Tim was running alongside you, the soles of his boots making little to no noise as he weaved nimbly down the street. Dick was slightly ahead; you were watching his six.The three of you were currently pursuing Poison Ivy, who royally pissed off, was threatening to release a batch of poisons into the water supply; naturally, it was your job to try and stop her before she could actually get there. Batman was also in pursuit, but he was coming from the other side of the city which meant that the chances of you and your brothers stopping Ivy before she got there were pretty high.

You had almost caught up with Ivy when it happened. You could see her ahead, her torn clothes flapping against the winds that whipped between the skyscrapers and whistled down the alleyways. You pushed yourself to run faster, feeling the burn in your calves as you raced towards her auburn figure. You would have caught her if you didn’t catch a glimpse of one of her goons perched on a window ledge. It was dark, but you could practically see his crooked grin as he leered down at the three unsuspecting vigilantes. By the time you had realised what was actually happening, it was too late.

The needle dug deep into your neck, with such a blunt force that you would have yelped if you didn’t have the sense to plaster your hand over your lips. It stung and would most certainly leave a bruise later. But what worried you was not, the soon to be bruise, but the groggy sensation that began to settle over you.

Blindly reaching for the syringe, you pulled it from your neck with a grunt. It clattered to the floor. Everything seemed to swim before you in a mix of colours. It made you feel sick. And suddenly your body felt numb, stubborn limbs refusing to move how they normally would. You lurched forward stumbling and trying to grip onto the wall to keep yourself upright. It was hardly any use though; whatever they had stuck you with made it nearly impossible to tell which way was up as your world span. You had fallen behind, moving without a coherent thought as you tried to keep up with the speck that you thought was Tim. Everything was too loud, but you could make out no sounds, just a piercing ringing.

“R’vn…” Someone was talking to you. You weren’t even aware you had stopped and hands swam in front of your face. Touching. Someone was touching you; their hands were against your shoulders trying to keep you upright. But who…

There was no face in front of you. Only a mangled mess of colours and an echo of your code name frantically falling from their lips. They were trying to get you to respond, to say anything but your eyes and glassed over and your limbs had fallen limp in against the stone wall you had been stumbling against.

And then your body gave up completely.

Tim had to scramble to catch your body as you keeled over, ragdolling into his arms with limbs splayed out in each direction. He cursed, panicked and settled you down on the ground to stand over you. Wide eyed, he pressed the emergency signal on his coms, praying that Dick would get to you quickly and that Batman was close enough to catch Ivy.

He tried your name again, shaking you by the shoulders. There was no response; your head just lolled to the side. It was then that he realised your body was hot. Far too hot. He struggled to get off his glove before pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. You didn’t even stir.

“Son of a bitch.” Dick skidded to a stop beside his brother, palling at the sight of you on the ground. “What happened?”

“I-i don’t know. She was fine one minute and the next she practically collapsed against the wall-” Tim stuttered, unable to keep his composure. Usually, he was the one with the steady hand they could all rely on, but now he was completely short circuiting.

With a curt nod, Dick tried to shake you awake, calling your name.

“I tried that.” Tim stated.

Dick nearly snapped at his brother for making an irritating statement when he saw the lines spider-webbing up your neck. They were thin and black, spindling out like branches of a tree devoid of its leaves. Twisting your head gently to the side, Dick revealed it to Tim who swallowed thickly.

“Drugged?” He asked meekly.

Dick shook his head. “Poisoned.”

Tim shifted his vision anxiously between Dick and you. His head perked up when something clattered off to their right. Dick was up in an instant, standing over you with his escrima sticks flickering with their angry blue charge. Tim reddied his bo staff.

“Go find them.” Nightwing ordered, standing over you protectively. “I’ll watch her.”

Tim darted off for a moment as the older boy watched you with shifty eyes, hardly relaxing when he returned a few moments later. By that time you had begun sweating and your skin had grown clammy and gaunt .When he looked at him with optimistic eyes, the younger boy shook his head.

“Nothing. But I did find this.” He produced a small syringe filled with a dark green liquid. The one you had pulled frantically from your neck.

“Good! That's good.” Dick exclaimed, taking a shaky breath. “We need to get her back to the cave. Page Alfred. Get him to prepare the infirmary.”

“On it.”

Sliding his hands under your body, he scooped up your limbs with ease. “Hang in there, kiddo.”

“Get her on the bed, quick.”

Alfred was on the two boys as soon as he heard the cave entrance fling open. Dick was sling clinging to you as he bustled through the door, hot on Tim’s heels who forced everyone out of the way. They all watched you with worried creases etched onto their complexions.

Dick lay you down on the bed. As soon as he was out of the way Alfred was replacing the empty space beside you, inspecting the spread of the poison. It had now begun to crawl down your arms and up the side of your face. Your features seemed sunken and your heart rate was dangerously slow.

He reached for a needle of his own, sliding it into your skin before hooking you up to an IV.

“What’s that?” Tim asked. His voice wavered.

“Hopefully an antidote and some fluids to flush it out of her system. Babs managed to analyse the sample you sent over. The poison is lethal, but because she managed to pull it out before the whole thing entered her system, we think this should help.”

“And if it doesn't?” Jason’s voice asked from where he had been lingering in the doorway.

“Let's hope it does.”

It took much longer than they had hoped for you to wake up, but nevertheless you did. Slowly but surely you cracked open your eyes and blinked at them groggily. It seemed that Alfred and Babs had been spot on; the antidote worked, but it made everyone nervous to think that if you hadn’t pulled out the toxin when you had, the situation could have been very different. Damian cringed at the thought.

They had all been there when you woke up. They had been taking it in turns to watch you because they couldn;t bear the thought of you waking up alone, but when Jason called out that you were stirring they all rushed to your side to sit with you.

It was nice to wake up with the all beside you, despite the fact that you felt like death. Probably because you had been so close to it.

Ivy was arrested and sent to Arkham without much of a second thought.Batman had caught her before she managed to release the rest of her poisons. She had made an attempt on your life. It was safe to say that she deserved jail time for that, though there was no saying how long she was actually going to stay there for.

The air was much lighter in the manor now that you were awake. You were still on bed rest for a short while, much to your protests and grumbling. But, luckily for you you were surrounded by a whole handful of people that wanted to do things for you that you didn’t even need help with. Not that you minded too much… Either way, they were there for you completely throughout your recovery, glad that you were going to be just fine.

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BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff

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