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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years

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Hey I love your...everything about dick Grayson. I have a terrible memory but I remember someone saying they think dick Grayson has ADHD and I think it was you? If it was can you talk about it a little more? Like, give some examples of traits? I love that headcanon but as someone not that knowledgeable of this stuff I wanted to get someone else's pov on the topic

agh thank you!! and yea, that was me, in this post. that was just me rambling a bit and me jotting stuff down, but i did say if you wanted more i’d be happy to give more. and so, in headcanon format, here is more.

One of Dick Grayson’s defining traits is that he could not sit still. Everybody had noticed it, everybody had commented on it, and everyone pretended to find it annoying while also knowing that his constant fidgeting, bouncing, leaping, talking, and laughing was a comfort. The buzz of energy surrounding him was a constant, and prompted many many people to offhandedly remark to Bruce, “He’s probably got ADHD.” Green Arrow, when Robin was talking Flash’s ear off when he first met the Justice League. A socialite in a dress with a borderline-obscene neckline when Dick came up to him for the eighth time that night, drawing his attention to something new. Even Harley Quinn, as he jumped around her in circles after they’d tied her up to a pole in a warehouse while Bruce copied the data, although she said it with a fond little grin and a bit more, well, educated style.

And if he was being honest? Bruce agreed with all of them. Just, in a different way.

Dick’s hyperfixiations were a sight to behold. He’d find something interesting to label as his New favourite thing ever, Bruce!!, absorb everything there was to know about the topic, then move on to something new in a month. Which had always been the problem. Bruce couldn’t begin to count the nights he had to coerce Dick into coming downstairs, leaving his rare igneous rock collection or his college-level textbook about nerve paralysis or his new batch of poisonous flowers, and eating something, or going to bed. There was a reason Dick was underweight for most of his life, and still was as an adult.

It was in his “all or nothing” attitude, the way he threw his entire self into the job, or whatever needed to be done. But if he decided something wasn’t worth it, or that he was done, he dropped it entirely, with no lost love. His impulse control was bad, but that was something Bruce could help him with, train him to keep a level head or make the right choice. Though, making choices was another thing to tackle altogether. Choice paralysis was the best way to describe it. If Dick didn’t absolutely make up his mind about something, then he was split, caught between two different choices, and he couldn’t say no to either.

Jason may have rage coursing through his blood, but his anger was solid, dependable, reliable. Dick’s mood swings, however, were monsters that Bruce had been trying to understand since Dick was a child, his kindness and understanding changing to harsh words and accusatory looks so fast it gave Bruce whiplash. Jason seemed to be one of the few who could wade his way through them, never trying to change him or stop him, just trying to understand him.

Tim’s internal clock may be blown and shot to hell, but it was out of willpower, determination. He had work to do, and he would power through his tiredness until it was done. (And then he’d grab an oversized superboy t-shirt and crash for a couple days on end.) Dick, on the other hand, could not sleep. Lying in a bed made him restless, but sitting in the kitchen hunched over a mug of chamomile tea made gave him a headache. Dick had once told him, in the hours where it was too early to be morning but too late to be night, that he just wanted his brain to stop for once, to just shut off. Bruce didn’t have an answer. Tim, apparently, had an answer, because he would sit up with Dick in that kitchen, turning the lights down low, and talking with him about this cool new spot he found for his photography, or some changes he’s thinking of making to his suit. Tim’s quiet rambling seemed to ease the headache, at least.

Cass and Dick may not have many things in common, at first glance. They never bonded the way they did to other members of the family, the way Cass and Steph learned to laugh together or the way Dick and Jason finally reached an understanding, and were able to just spend time together. Bruce actually thought Cass would get along with Damian, given their shared assassin history. But Damian just looked at him strange, and said “I’m not the one who was raised as a human weapon.” And that...that was true. Cass may have been isolated and alone, and Dick might have been raised with love and affection, but Bruce couldn’t deny that the two of them had been raised, as Damian put it, human weapons. And despite Dick’s ease and grace and innate flexibility, Bruce knew that Dick itched at his skin, sometimes felt uncomfortable and not in control in his own body. But then he saw Dick with Cass one day, stretching and going over some basic yoga poses, the silence between them thick with something heavy and grateful. Bruce memorized the content and peaceful look on his children’s faces, then left as quietly as he’d entered.

Bruce was no stranger to Stephanie’s self esteem issues, overhearing her in front of the mirror many a time, clothed in the Robin costume and telling herself, in between gritted teeth, “I deserve to be here. I’m good enough. I’ve got this.” As for Dick, his self esteem issues were a tad different. His constant need to make people like him, his jokes and quips that were aimed to make people think he was funny, think he was worth it, his absolute terror of rejection, the way he broke off relationships and had trouble maintaining the ones he did have under the philosophy of leaving before they rejected him for real. A whisper in the back of Bruce’s mind whispered Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, though neither of them were fond of labels. But it wasn’t hard to miss the easy stream of compliments flowing back and forth between Dick and Steph, usually good natured teasing, but no less sincere. It helped them more than they realized.

People may say Damian was violent, rude, and prone to outbursts. And this was true, for the most part. Bruce knew Damian was still getting a handle on his emotions, but he also knew the kid actually meditated in his free time, and most of his actions were well planned and thought out. Dick, on the other hand, had outbursts frequently. He’d just gotten much better at controlling them, or maybe just blowing up at Bruce and hiding them from the rest of the family. And his emotions were a hurricane, a whirlwind of raw power. Regulating him had long since gone out the window. Luckily, Damian seemed think the opposite (or maybe Bruce had given up too early). Dick never actually seemed to enjoy meditating with Damian, but controlling their tempers was something the two of them were working on together, one backing the other up or slow them down, and vice versa.

Every time someone came up to him, telling him Dick was just so cheerful and hyper and constantly in motion, Bruce was brought back to the first week in the manor, Alfred raising his eyebrow at Bruce after Dick’s latest antics had landed him in his room, refusing to open the door for anyone. Bruce knew Alfred was running through a mental checklist in his head, same as him. Alfred had told him, “This is going to be quite a bit of trouble, Master Bruce.” Bruce had shown his weary agreement. Then Alfred had nodded resolutely, and said “I suppose we shall just love him right, then.”

Bruce knew without a doubt that Alfred had succeeded in that particular promise. But Bruce was still asking himself whether or not he had.

ADHD is,,,,,,,hard to write. tag list: @comicsandhoney @dangerduckjpeg @yesboopityboop @birdy-bat-writes @astroherogirl @anothertimdrakestan @thebatsandbirdsofgotham @subtleappreciation

#dick grayson #nightwing #dc #batfam #scribbles from the swamp #dick grayson headcanon #nightwing headcanon #dc headcanon #batfam headcanon

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anjuschiffer · 3 years

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It’s finally the New Year! What other way to celebrate than to write for Day 1 of @timari-month-event New Years Day? :D

Day 1 : New Years Day

—

Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan @vixen-uchiha @nathleigh

—

AO3

Cass poked her head through the common room’s doorway, surprised to see that Dick had managed to have everyone over at his apartment.

To be honest, Cass thought he wouldn’t be able to get everyone under one roof. Then again, this was Dick, everyone’s favorite person...well, almost everyone’s.

“Cass, so that's where you’ve been.” Kate said from behind her, Cass turning to see her ‘aunt.’ “This is your first time, isn’t it? Celebrating New Years, that is.” Cass nodded at that.

She honestly didn’t know what to think about this “New Years” celebration Dick wanted everyone to be a part of, how excited he was to be able to greet the new year as a family.

It was just another event that only marked the end of a year and the beginning of another. Why celebrate it?

Cass snapped from her thoughts when Kate chuckled, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright Cass. Don’t think too hard about it. Just enjoy yourself. Perhaps you’ll understand then.”

Cass nodded, watching as Kate walked away to join the others.

She watched as she sat diagonally from Bruce, Selina and Alfred, the quartet of adults observing the other “supposed” adults and children.

“Grapes? Why would you wish using grapes? They don’t hold any magical power.” Damian asked as Dick handed him a bowl with 12 grapes in jt.

“Good question. Why grapes?” Duke asked no one, proceeding to just eat them. “Why not star fruit?”

“I-I actually don’t know.” Dick shyly confesses, deciding to just leave the grapes at the center of the coffee table for people to just grab.

“It actually started as an advertising tactic for farmers to sell their grape harvests in the 19 century in Spain.” Jason said, eyeing his own bowl of 12 grapes. “Later on in the early 20th century, the grapes symbolize good luck, so the people started to eat them after the start of a New Year in hopes of having good luck.”

“In other words, wishful thinking and superstition?” Stephanie asked.

“Yup.” Jason munched on a few grapes. “ there are a few people who additionally do it to ward off evil.”

“So just superstition.” Duke clarifies. “What a waste of good grapes.”

“-can believe it! There’s only five minutes left until the new year!” The woman on the television screen squealed, capturing everyone's attention. The screen then switched cameras to show the packed street of Times Square, hundreds -if not thousands- of people waving at the camera as it panned around them.

“Does everyone have their glass of champagne?” Dick asked, watching as everyone lifted their glass. “Babs, I thought you didn’t drink?”

“And neither does Tim, Damian, Duke and Steph and yet you still gave them one.” Dick started to panic at that.

After all, they’re still minors, even if by a few months away from being either 21 or 18.

“Damian, Duke, Steph, Tim! I need those- wait. Where is Tim?” Dick asked.

“Wait, he was invited?” Jason asked.

“Of course I did! He’s part of the-“

“Three minutes left!”

“Well, too late to ask him to join us. Well just have to greet the new year without him.” Steph said.

“His lost.” Damian added, keeping a grin to himself.

“One minute!”

“FaceTime?” Dick asked, the family ignoring him as they intently watched the woman on the screen beginning to count down.

Cass watched Dick panic around while the rest of the family continued to watch the television.

She noticed Bruce and Selina signal her to come closer, which she did, the two of them pulling her to sit in between them.

Cass fidgeted a bit, adjusting to the affection.

“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!”

“Are we really-“

“Five! Four! Three!

Two!

One!

Happy New Year!” The lady announced, hugging her news partner.

“Happy New Year.” The family said in unison, lifting their glasses in sync before everyone took a sip. Of course, a few idiots chugged it down.

Or at least attempted to.

As soon as Jason had chugged half of his champagne, he sputtered about, Babs chuckling in the back while Duke and Steph tried to help him.

“Todd. How dare you waste-“

“Replacement.” He wheezed out, pointing to the screen. “He’s-“ he then began to cough.

Everyone turned to look at the screen wondering what he meant because there on the screen were just couples kissing. Tim wasn’t-

“Well you look at that.” Selina said with a grin.

“Is he serious?” Duke asked, burying his face into his hands.

“Apparently so.” Steph grinned.

There, the farthest corner of the screen was Tim, or rather, Red Robin kissing a girl who wore a hoodie that resembled Red Robin’s. Midnight hair peeled from out of the hood and she wore a red domino mask.

“Did anyone know he was going to do this?” Kate asked. Everyone turned to Alfred.

“Master Tim only told me he was visiting his girlfriend. He never told me he was going to pull this stunt.” Alfred took a sip of his tea. “But we should congratulate the chap. He may not be celebrating with us, but at least he’s celebrating the New Year with someone he loves.”

-How it happened-

Tim was double checking his list, making sure he had everything before heading downstairs.

Despite Dick wanting everyone over at his apartment to spend New Years Eve together, Tim already had plans, plans he had arranged weeks prior.

“Master Tim. Are you heading out?” Alfred asked him, Tim taken aback by Alfred’s...lack of a suit. “Master Tim?”

“Sorry Alfred. It’s just...I’ve never seen you out of a suit so...it suits you.” Was all Tim was able to say. Instead of his tidy and fitted butler suit, Alfred was wearing a very...grandfatherly outfit.

White shirt, gray cardigan, brown jacket and a dark gray pair of slacks. A pair of loafers and a flat cap sealed the deal.

“Well, Miss Marinette gifted me this jacket this Christmas. I thought I would wear it for this occasion. The inner pocket is my favorite detail.”

Alfred showed Tim the inner pocket, the pocket having different swirl embroidery. But upon a closer inspection, each different colored thread was a different family member’s name. Tim’s name was embroidered in a steel blue.

“What a very Marinette thing for her to do.” Tim said with a smile, beaming at her talent. That’s when he remembered about where he was heading. He took out his phone and fought a scowl when he realized he was running behind schedule.

“Judging by your scowl, I’m guessing you’re late to where you’re heading to.”

“I am a bit behind schedule. But I’ll manage.” Tim said, shifting the bag on his shoulder. He didn’t know why, but something told him to say it. “I’m going to New York to meet up with Marinette. We've been planning this for a few months and thought we should meet up for New Year’s Eve. We’ve got a few places in mind and we’re hoping everything-“

“It’s going to be fine.” Alfred assures Tim, not once mentioning his rambling. “Now go. You wouldn’t want to make Miss Marinette wait any longer, now would you?”

Tim nodded, saying goodbye to Alfred and running to catch the nearest cab to get to the nearest bus to take him to New York.

After a two hour trip, Tim stood by an odd mechanism trapped inside an acrylic case.

He wanted to make sure where he was headed before leaving the 42 St Port Authority. After all, he had only been to Times Square a few times in his life.

“Tim!” Marinette called out, Tim looking up from his phone to see Marinette running up to him.

A grin grew on his face as he caught Marinette, twirling her.

“Hey. Aren’t you half an hour early?”

“Maybe you're just late.” Marinette grinned.

Tim sighed at the Into the Spiderverse reference until he noticed her outfit.

She was wearing a red dress, the most obvious piece, but it was her wrap cape that caught his attention. The front piece was red in color while the rest of the cape was black. But it was the hidden accents of gold and the single golden robin crest at the center that intrigued him the most.

“Is that-“

“A Red Robin inspired outfit?” Marinette grinned. “Yes, yes it is. After all,” Marinette leaned over Tim’s ear. “He’s my favorite.” She purred, fighting off a giggle when she saw Tim’s face red from ear to ear.

“We should be on our way.” Tim managed to say, leading Marinette out the building and onto Edge Tower.

—

The duo went on their mini date at Edge Tower, Marinette not surprised when she found out that Tim rented out the entire place for the hour.

Marinette ran up to the edge of the balcony, not believing how high up they were. While Ladybug was able to get up on high places like this with ease, it was a whole different experience as Marinette.

She leaned into the cold air, a smile across her face as the wind blew.

“You’d think you’d get used to things like this.” Tim said, as if reading her mind, leaning against the rail right next to her.

“But no matter how many times you see the same view, it’s always breathtaking.” Marinette replied, turning to face him.

“Just like you are.” Tim enjoyed the way Marinette flushed red, causing him to chuckle. He tucked a loose hair strand behind her ear. “How about we take a picture to remember this?”

And so they did.

—

The thing with it being New Years Eve, all the places were packed, even otherwise empty food courts and the edge of the Hudson River.

After a while, the two ended up heading back to Times Square, a decision they soon regretted.

They ended up being caught in the swarm of people who had been camping in the area for a day...or two...or three…

One of them thought they had already been there and allowed them to slip through and by the time the duo realized that they were being pushed further deeper into the area, it was too late for them to get out. More people started to gather around them, the area packed to the brim with New Yorkers and tourists alike.

Seeing as they were stuck there, Marinette and Tim decided to make the best of it and went along with the crowd, waiting for hours until a few minutes were left before the start of the new year.

“Hey Tim.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m...I’m kinda glad we decided to meet here today.”

“So do I. Although, I do feel guilty for not telling Dick that I wasn’t going to be able accept his invitation to spend the eve with him and the rest of the family.” Tim confessed, Marinette giving his hand a squeeze.

They remained like that for a while before Tim turned to her.

“Marinette, there’s something I have to say.”

“What is it?”

“I just wanted to say, thank you. Thank you for being by my side this year.” He heard someone say that there were three minutes left. He cupped her face between his hands. “Thank you for being part of my life.”

As Tim leaned forward, Marinette stopped him, Tim wondering if he did something wrong. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Tim. I think you’re forgetting something.” Marinette said, placing a domino mask over his eyes and one on herself. “There. Now the press won’t be bothering you tomorrow.”

“The press? Why-“

“Tim. How did you forget that you're the CEO of Wayne Enterprise? Seriously, how can you forget that?” Marinette huffed.

It was then that the two realized that the crowd had begun to count down.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“Should we pick up where we left off?” Marinette asked, letting out a yelp when Tim brought her closer to him.

“Six! Five ! Four!”

“Let’s.” Tim’s said, leaning forward towards Marinette.

“Two!

One!”

Their lips met.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

#maribat #timari january 2021 #timari #timari month

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shhhhsh · 3 years

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About Tim’s New Story….

I just really hope they address Tim’s mental health. Like, DC just been ditching really good plot lines in favor of being “woke” or pandering. Just look at all the live action shows.

Now I’m not saying they can’t make Tim queer/bi/gay, but (as someone pointed out to me) Tim’s previous story writer was bi and he still chose to write Tim as straight & in a healthy romantic relationship with Stephanie Brown. I’ve seen several people who identify as queer/bi say that to have Tim go “ ooooh I’ve fooled myself into thinking I was straight, but now I’m freeeee” sends the message that Tim’s previous relationship failed b/c he was with a woman and not because of Tim’s poor mental and emotional health.

To go back to my previous statement; by him not writing Tim as bi tells me that he didn’t want or care for Tim to be bi, but instead saw Tim as, or preferred him to be, straight. The writer had free control to write Tim how ever he wanted and yet he chose to keep Tim straight. And he actually liked & wanted Tim/Steph. Again, I’m not saying Tim can’t be queer/bi, I’m just saying I find the motivations for this possible change very fishy. Almost as if the new writer is trying to get brownie points for pandering to a portion of the fans.

I think this way b/c in every other media where a character is revealed to be LGBTQ they just did it. They didn’t beat around the bush or do any queer coding/baiting. They either announced it, just made the character that way right out the gate, or just dropped the bomb w/out warning (as seen in Netflix’s Voltron, Amazon Prime’s Invincible, and Nickelodeon’s Legend of Korra respectfully).

DC currently has a bad habit changing things to be “woke” and bragging about it or shoving it in our faces. DC is becoming the “pick me girl” of superhero media. If you want to do it, just do it. Again I just get the “look at me, look at me” & “carrot on the stick” vibes from them now. If you truly feel in your heart to do something you would just do it without the need for recognition or to be so dramatic about it.

Now what I much rather see & think it’s a natural progression for Tim:

I personally believe that if Jason, Dick, & Damian can get a story that attempts to give them character development beyond romantic relationships (romance was more of a B-plot to the character driven A-plot anyway) I think they can give it to Tim as well.

I know that the Bat-Family all struggle with some form of mental health problems (most commonly paranoia and PTSD). However, I would like to point out that trauma is was what brought the others into the vigilante lifestyle, while Tim & Barbara became traumatized because of the vigilante lifestyle. Yet, Barbara was shown overcoming her trauma and using it as motivation to get better. Tim is yet to have this moment.

We all know that Tim struggles with depression, self-esteem, and suicidal tendencies. I mean heck, him becoming Red Robin only happens because of Tim’s degrading mental health. I hate to say it, but Tim is very psychologically broken and has been show to get so depressed that he can’t even get out of bed some times. To my knowledge, Tim is the only one in the Bat-Fam that struggles in his head with the idea of not being needed, useful, or forgotten when in reality that is furthest from the truth (Steph, Jason, & Damian also feel like the black sheep periodically, but that is because they have been presented with real evidence that would lead them to logically believe this. I.e being actually forgotten or dismissed for past mistakes despite great efforts to better themselves).

While yes, Dick did Tim dirty by replacing him without having a proper conversation first, the motivation was because he saw Tim as his equal and not Damian. He thought highly of Tim, but Tim couldn’t see that over his offense. Tim is so beat down by life that he see’s everything with negative lenses. Everyone came to check on Tim’s mental health but Tim took it as an insult instead.

And even though now Tim has reached some form of “peace” in his life, that only happens because the people he lost came back (Bruce, Conner, Bart, Cassie, etc). Tim never fully learned to handle grief, to handle his emotions, instead he represses them. Again in the Red Robin run, the main reason he doesn’t believe in any form of God is because he can’t logically justify the pain he has gone through. He is hurting and doesn’t know how to deal with that. In his original Robin run, when he tried talking someone out of committing suicide……the words and comfort he gave….that wasn’t something that was just inside Tim, this is something that was told to Tim. This is followed by him calling Dick to get the same pep-talk he just regurgitated to someone else.

In short: Tim is hurting. Deeply. And having been someone who’s emotional & mental sanity was pushed to the brink and attempted to jump off several times, I think it’s really sad that DC just ignores it. Now as someone who’s gotten the help they needed & now helps other people who struggle with the same issues as myself & Tim, I think that they’re going to say a lot of Tim’s problems come from him not being “aware” of his own sexuality, which is just sad.

In the story in question, Barbara talks about Tim not having a solid identity. People are more than their sexuality. People are capable of making future decisions for themselves without it hindering on their sexuality. If Tim was real, I would brake down his struggle as so:

Tim refuses to go to college and do something more with his life because he cannot see anything beyond his current circumstance. And the only reason why Tim cannot see anything beyond his circumstance is because he has no internal sense of purpose, identity, and acceptance beyond the cape & cowl. And when Tim finally found that in being Robin, Tim held onto it as a lifeline. There’s a reason why everyone says Tim is basically Bruce 2.0: it’s because he is Robin/Red Robin/Drake & Tim is the mask. At a young age, he did not grow up having these things instilled into him due to his parents neglecting him at a very important age in his development. Tim raised himself, and for a lack of better terms; an idiot cannot teach themselves to be smarter, an idiot becomes smarter by learning from the intelligent. A child can’t teach themselves to be an adult, they have to learn from others to grow & better themselves.

Now a parent doesn’t necessarily have to sit down and give a lesson about how to be an individual, but children learn how to live life by watching their parents. A good example of this is the rest of the Bat-Fam; they all grew up with some form of parental figures that taught them how to behave (for better or worse). Of course children have their own personalities, which is why two kids can go through the same type of trauma but come out differently, but it is a battle of nature vs nurture. Steph, Jason, Cass, & Damian grew up in abusive/unstable homes, while Dick, Barbara, & Bruce grew up in loving homes, but their personalities & character dictated how they responded to trauma. They took what life gave them and decided what to leave or take.

Tim had nothing to work with & is basically playing catch-up with the rest of his peers.

In a weird sense, Tim is like Zuko from The Last Airbender: only living to serve their father’s purpose. Anything outside of that they don’t know what to do. They’ve been trained to be something externally without been given a chance to figure out who they are internally.

Again you are not your sexuality, your sexuality does not determine who you are as a person. When a person struggles through life, it is due to the conditions of thier soul. Everything starts internally and shows it’s self externally.

I want to make that very clear because I am truly scared that in DC’s attempt to claim “clout” they are missing the bigger picture. Tim doesn’t have identity problems simply because he “doesn’t know” he likes boys, but because DC never gave him is own identity to begin with. Robin was never his own identity, Red Robin was never his, & Drake was his first attempt to make his own but he quickly gave it up so that he can be Robin once again. What is Tim going to do once Damian gets back? Is Damian going to get his own identity before Tim? Or is Tim just going to go back to one of his old identities?

I would like for Tim to personally move on from being a vigilante and rejoin civilian society for a while. Go to college, do something for himself and only for himself. Give Tim the self-discovery story, let him heal, and grown to be his own person. Besides you can never have a functional romantic relationship if you are not a functional individual. Self love > romantic love.

#red robin #batman #dc comics #tim drake #batman and robin #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #damian al ghul #damian wayne #stephanie brown #batgirl #cassandra cain #batfam #robin #I just want a good and meaningful story that doesn’t have some secret agenda #just do right by Tim #beware the pandering #not everything has to be about romance

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elareine · 4 years

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What do you think of Jason being the youngest?

So I thought ‘Does that mean that he’s Damian’s age and Damian is his age?’ and this happened. Thanks for the question <3

This Jason has different expectations about being Robin. It’s difficult to think that Robin is magic when the second Robin once stabbed a man in front of your door.

All the kids in Gotham know the Robins. The adults might talk about Batman and Superman; the kids, they gather all the intel they can about the bright birds and share it like precious marbles.

The first Robin—he made everything look easy and fun. Robin II died and he came back, how amazing is that? Robin III always gets up again and makes a joke while he’s at it. Also, long pants, a good choice. And Robin IV... Well, she’s Jason’s favorite. Do not tell his brothers that.

In hindsight, trying to steal the tire caps off the batmobile wasn’t Jason’s greatest idea. At the moment, however, all he can think of is: Whoever Batman is, he clearly has money. Bruce Wayne backs him. He can afford some fucking tires, and Jason just wants to sleep in a shelter for one night, maybe get some food. He needs to start thinking of the winter months. Fall’s short and Gotham’s winters are cruel.

There’s a polite cough behind him. “Excuse me?”

When Jason whirls around, two men are standing there. Jason vaguely recognizes the older one—maybe from a magazine cover? He’s ridiculously handsome. The other one is about the same height and built, but younger, darker-skinned, and dressed in infinitely more taste.

At least they look amused. Jason doesn’t think he’s gonna be beaten up today, especially when the first man just asks: “What—What were you thinking, stealing tires off that car?”

“Why are you so interested in what I’m doing?” Jason asks back. “Doesn’t have anything to do with you, does it?”

The older man chuckles. “Every citizen must interfere if they witness a crime.”

“Can tell you’re not from around here, then.”

“Still.”

Jason drops the tire cap with some reluctance. There goes his dinner. “Fine. Here you go.”

The younger bends over and pics up the cap, screwing it back in with surprising ease. The older man is still looking at Jason, though. “You know, we could bring you to a good home for kids like you.”

“Been there, done that. The last one tried to turn us into criminals.”

The younger man tilts his head to the side and glances at the crowbar in Jason’s hands.

“That’s to eat! I’m not going to run drugs for anyone.” Jason juts out his chin. “I’m not going back there again.”

“Oh, boy,” the older man sighs, and then he says: “Okay, you know what? Get in.”

And then he pulls out the keys to the Batmobile.

“Richard—” the younger man says. There’s a look of resignation on his face, though.

“It’s what B would’ve done,” Richard replies and looks at Jason. “How about you come with us, then?”

And look. Jason knows that you shouldn’t get into a car with strangers. He knows. But it’s the Batmobile, what the fuck is he supposed to say? ’No?’

Apparently, though, Batman is dead? Except that Dick Grayson, aka Robin I, and Damian Wayne, Robin II, took over in his stead. And now Jason gets to be Robin! Robin!

Tim… he doesn’t take it well. Jason gets that, honestly. He probably wouldn’t react well to being replaced, either. Dick insists that’s not it, but, you know. Seems to Jason like Tim has his own issues to deal with, honestly.

(It’s okay. Once Tim is done with his whole eat-pray-beat people up-spiel and brings Bruce back, they become friends. Jason finds out that Tim took over as Robin when he saw Bruce fall apart after Damian’s death and has worried about his place ever since. It’s been bad enough ever since Damian came back, especially since those two do not get along. Seeing Jason arrive was just the last straw.)

Robin is blood and sweat and pain, and Jason loves it. No matter who’s wearing the cowl, Jason is there, a bright distraction, a valuable ally, a spark of color in Gotham’s darkness.

He would never tell Dick, but he prefers working with Bruce. They just click. Jason likes making the older man laugh; he has too many worry lines already.

And yeah, okay, as he gets older, he chafes under Bruce’s rules sometimes. Bruce doesn’t get that some people need to stay down. Despite everything, he’s always been able to go back to his manor and live there. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to live right where all the crime happens.

When that happens, though, Dick is there to tell him anecdotes about the time Bruce and he screamed at each other so much Alfred actually quit. Damian lets him debate the ethics of killing serial offenders with him—his perspective is fascinating, even if Jason doesn’t always agree, and he never treats Jason like a child. Cass joins them occasionally.

And if it still gets too much, Jason can hide at Steph’s place. She always tells Bruce to fuck off when he asks if Jason’s there.

When his mother (his mother) contacts him, he doesn’t go alone. Well, not for lack of trying. But Tim, the fucking stalker that he is, found out, and then he and O went ballistics on Sheila’s digital footprint until they found all the dirt.

They tell Jason that it’s a trap. He refuses to cancel the meeting. Damian actually agrees with that decision (he knows about mothers), but it also means that everyone in the family ‘subtly’ follows him to Ethiopia. Jason books a commercial flight and then has to watch everyone else sit in first class.

Meeting his mother… it is what it is. The Joker tries to divide them, sure—he’s done it before, he’ll do it again. But O’s voice is in their heads, telling them to under no circumstances let Jason go anywhere alone, and Damian sticks to him like a shadow.

“I refuse to let anyone else die in that hideous costume,” is all he says.

“It’s better than your emo version.”

When Sheila calls for their help, they come. Of course. It’s what Robins do.

It gets ugly. Even Flamebird and Robin have difficulties dealing with the Joker when he’s had time to prepare. There’s a crowbar, and a bomb, and too much blood, and Jason passes out.

When Jason comes to just minutes later, he’s next to the burning warehouse. Damian is holding him up, bleeding. Jason is pretty sure that half his own side is burned. He probably has a concussion from the way his head’s feeling like taffy. Whatever. He’ll live.

“Hey,” he asks Damian as they stare at the fire, “do you think Bruce would let me get away with ditching the cape? Cause I’m thinking I might invest in a helmet.”

#batfamily #elareine writes #jason todd

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and-the-world-is-quiet-here · 3 years

Text

Of stormy nights and sorrows

The night was dark and stormy. Of course all nights in Gotham were dark and stormy, but this one seemed to be particularly vengeful, pummeling the ground with strong whips of water, and throwing saplings like ragdolls. Causing chaos in homeless shelters as vagabonds scrambled for a place with walls and windows. The rain was so great that it had caused all the usual suspects to run for shelter, emptying the streets faster than black bats glare ever could - Cass was just a little jealous. But no crime meant no vigilantes, and dad would never put his kids out in a hurricane just to save some cats in trees.

“But father, you can’t be serious! Rain should be no match for a warrior of my caliber!” Cass didn’t understand the words but she could feel the insult behind them.

Jason started in too, desperate to get out of the manor “Yeah b we’ll be fine! You can’t keep us here anyway! I am a grown ass adult”

Dad grunted, his standard response for any kind of disobedience.

Turning his back to the 11 owlish eyes boring holes into his head, he went back to sorting the batarangs tutting as he did.

Then there was silence, it was long and she didn’t like it. Too long, too quiet for too long, something bad was going to happen, she could tell. She shifted uneasily on her perch, preparing to move at the first sign of trouble. She did want another argument there had been to many already.

It was oppressive.

Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. And oh! Steph finally broke, she had been expecting it (steph may as well have been screaming her intention) but the loud noise still startled her

“Oh my god Bruce! Will you speak in sentences for once in your goddamn life!”

Bruce-dad tensed unnoticeably and she watched him with a closer eye from her nest on the banister. He prepared himself as if to give a speech, but only managed to spit out “Its cold, and nobodys out there anyway. The last thing we need is one of you getting sick.”

Silence, silence that stretched out miserably and then…. “I’m gonna go play among us, anyone want to join?”

“Oh my god Duke read the room”

“Oh shut up duke some of us are actually are actually used to not spending the night scaring the crap out of our neighbors and work 9-5 like a normal person”

Huh she thought neighbor…neghibor…“Ne-i-gh-b-or” she mouthed the word, (And what a word), neighbor she concluded must mean criminal.

In her distraction her siblings had disappeared and she shifted uneasily. She had let her walls down too far, and lost track of her family. That would need to be amended.

Now, the two loneliest residents were left to brood in silence--plus one of course, when those two were alone it was always with a hidden plus one.

Dad still leaned over the table, gripping it with both hands like his life depended on it.

He was worried, that much was obvious to anyone, It was all over his face.

But Cass knew better than to take it at face value, she examined other parts too. Everyone relied on faces too much she thought, when they really didn’t tell you that much. It was better to look at muscle; muscle, skin, and bone, they tell you the whole story.

He was worried, but it was more than that. He was….scared, his whole body screamed “PROTECT!” as if he had tooo…he had tooo… oh what was it he had to .. yes! He had to shield them! He had to shield them, his body yelled “PROTECT!” He stood like he was the last person between evil and family.

What a silly thought! He didn’t need to worry, she would always stand between evil and family.

“tt”

Dad sighed, “Father while I understand your decision to preserve the health of your soldiers, it should go without being said that I will be joining you tonight”

Dad’s nostrils flared, his arms tensed, and his feet shifted into a wider stance - a fighting stance.

Oh no, bad, bad, bad, bad. Dad…no…Batman slammed the batarang on the table, and turned to Damian,

“And why? Why is that Damian? Why do you constantly have to put yourself into danger just to prove your worth? You are not a soldier! You have never been a soldier! Your siblings are not soldiers!" Batman took a step forward pointing his finger towards Damian.

“YOU are an angry CHILD and if I was anyone else, you would be in bed by now. But I don’t make you. I LET you be robin, because I thought it would be good for you, But maybe I shouldn’t have”

Dad sighed and turned back to the table. The tension left his shoulders, and he slumped. He was more “SAD!” then angry, he was hurt and the “PROTECT!” crumbled into "Regret!", Cass looked the other way.

Dad was calming down but Damian was just getting started, he let out an angry shriek.

Flashes of a memory danced across his face, dimming his eyes,, setting his mouth, and furrowing his brow until he was a mirror of Dad,but one filled by “SAD!“ not “PROTECT!” “You underestimate me father, I am the heir to the dragon. I have already received more training then Brown ever will! I wield a sword better than Thomas can! Yet you insist on keeping these deadweights around despite their worthlessness!”

She inched closer, bad, this was bad, it was bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, ba-“SLAM!”

Dad dropped the Batarang and whirled around, murder in his eyes.

“No, no, you don’t get to speak about your siblings that way! You are not better than them! NO ONE is better than them! Stephanie could lift you over her head like you were nothing! Duke saves dozens of people everyday, no, you don’t get to speak about them that way. They earned their place here!”

Damian was scared now. He curled in on himself, radiating sadness.

“Get out!” Dad grit out in the silence

“GET OUT NOW!”

then the sound of fleeting footstep and a depressed sigh.

She came out of the shadows, she had hid long enough. She let her feet touch the ground just long enough to let it be known that she was there and left, leaving a whisper of a touch on the shoulders of her father, and a simple string of signs pressed into her fathers back

“Not mad at little brother, mad at the people who made him that way.” A sorrow comfort but a comfort nonetheless.

She bade her time and lied in wait, it would be no use to comfort him now when he was still upset. So instead she made use of her freedom, wandering the halls in search of her siblings, changing day clothes into pajamas, tinkering and going through her positions.

When at last she deemed it time, she made her way over to the vent. It lifted easily off the wall, the screws that held it there having long since been removed. Even easier though, was climbing into it, the vents were from the original part of the manor-meaning they were huge and someone as small as Cass had no trouble fitting in them. What was a struggle though, was stealth, she found after many tries that walking on the palms of her hands worked best. So that was how Cass moved, arriving steadily in a vertical shaft that required only 2 quick bounds to clear.

She landed elegantly as all ways, and nearly looked to Cain for approval before she remembered that she was not there, that she was safe. Well, as safe as you can be perched precariously on a loose rafter in a 300 year old attic.

Quietly, she padded along and picked up the sniveling mess that was Damian and made her way back to sanctuary. He would sleep through it, she had made sure of it, a journey through the vents would be bumpy and she was sure he would not want to be seen in the hallway like this.

Cass dumped him in the middle of her rug and returned back to her tinkering waiting for him to awaken.

It took twenty minutes for him to stir, and in the meantime she was treated to the sounds of war and horror sprouting from the mouth of a child.

When he finally did wake up, he was angry. “Where the hell am I Cain?”

He looked around bewilderedly before considering her; she knew he was afraid of her. She was the only fighter he had ever been taught to respect “the one who was all” A myth, a monster, a begrudged ally, but not a sister, never a sister. This was yet another thing she had to fix.<br />

She becond him forward with her hand, keeping her eyes carefully on her working hands. He approached cautiously and sat

“Cain”

“little brother”

“I am not your brother"

“and I am not a Cain” it was a stalemate neither would relent so she switched topics

“Come help”

“And why would I? I owe you nothing.” she paused

“Because you are tired, but you will fight sleep. Come little brother, help”

“tt fine”

He scooted closer, sitting barley a foot away from her now. For the first time, he looked at the diorama, and she, him. The display was sprawling, an exact replica of Wayne manor and its grounds, scaled down to size. It was placed on a low custom fit dining table, one barley the height of a Japanese tea table (similar to one Cass could remember from her childhood). The house wasn’t finished of course, that would be no fun if it was finished; and while some would say it was “good enough” (like Babs when she wanted Cass to spend her time reading or writing) she would not compromise, it had to be perfect.

“What would you like to build little brother” Damian paused and she saw fear flash across his face. Ahh so decisions scared him, she could work with that

“How about we do the menagerie”

“why?”

“Its not done and you know it best” Damian scrunched his brown frustrated at not being understood

“No why come and get me? Why build this? And if you care for it so much why let me help you?”

She turned to him, in her stupor she had neglected to look at him and she cursed herself for it. She stumbled, she had to do something, but she was lost at what to do, he needed words, she had none of those. He needed signs, she had many but it felt like not enough. So instead she settled for a hug and found she herself satisfied with it

“I love my little brother even if he does not love me, I am hurt and he is hurting so we will hurt together.” She paused and took a steadying silent breath, closing her eyes, and retreating back into herself.

“I came here, and the world was big and loud. Too much too quickly. I was expected to talk to understand the way they communicate. Their language. But no one tried to understand mine. I know bodies not words. You came here and you knew words, but you did not know bodies. No one acknowledged that. You struggle, you have no Babs, so I will be your Babs.”

They were crying now. His body was racked with sobs, and he was taking deep shuddering breaths, giving in he fell into another hug, crying loudly into her shoulder.

He cried for his mother, he cried for the sister and cousin he lost, he cried for the pain he caused his new family, the hatred they felt towards him, and the pain he felt, most of all he cried for the world he had lost and his place in it.

When he finally stopped, he was empty, a husk of the great Al Ghul heir remained, sniveling in the arms of a bastard child. He had been fractured, chipped away at every day, until even the pieces he held most dear fell away leaving a sad small child.

Finally she broke the silence holding his face in between his hands “When my world was too big, I made it small, and that way my monsters seemed smaller. They all have ways of dealing with their monsters, they lock them in caves and they lock them in their hearts. It doesn’t work. Don’t do it. Little brother, we must instead find a way to make your world small”

#cass cain #damian wayne #bruce wayne #cass-centric #cass cain-centric #fanfic #damian has a heart #cass uses asl #asl #this is the hill im dying on #making her fluent in spoken language by the second comic is dumb and undermines her disabilities and character growth #and when given the choice in the comics cass chose to undo the mind vodo and go back to her native language #dc your abelism is showing #also bruce isnt a bad dad he just feels overly protective of the family #and he is bad at emotions TM #bat fam #batdad

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black-streak · 4 years

Text

Waiting for the Worms - The Trial

Part 18

I've just been staring at this completed chapter for thirty minutes. I've been working up to this moment for so long and to see it finally written is just. Insane. (No this is not the last chapter. There is much more to come)

By the way!!!! This chapter was not suppose to end this way! Y'all influenced this shit! Goading me into it, I swear.

CLOSED List of Beggarts I regularly feed (I'm running out of names to call you): @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @emjrabbitwolf @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

He'll be after Jason seeing as the new Robin described him and he definitely knows about Joker's death.

They watched as the shadow took off across the rooftops, occasionally tossing out a grapple or swan diving off a ledge. Four blocks off, another figure, much brighter and attention grabbing, took a similar route, small body taking to the sky seemingly not taking notice of the eyes on him. Or perhaps used to it.

You'll watch the bird, keep him distracted. Nothing extreme enough to catch the other's attention. Just hold off any interference.

A dozen mice ran along the sides of gutters and along the alleyways below, awaiting their signal. They kept the brighter figure in their sights, drawing his attention with slight rustles and squeaks from unexpected places. Just loud and weird enough to avoid interest in any other movement in the area, drawing out a natural curiosity and investigative need in their target.

You'll play as backup. As soon as we instigate our target, I expect you to help keep the Replacement within ear range but incapable of assisting.

A fox dashed across the streets, keeping a close eye on the game between the bright figure and the mice scattered about. Any time the bird snuck up on where one hid, she hid the mouse in illusions, sometimes a real rat, other times a startled, hissing cat.

Tail swishing in a twitchy dance behind her, she awaited the main event from her perch.

You two will take to the sidelines, backup if it should come to blows. Otherwise, keep everyone updated on the others' positions and monitor the situation.

A cat slinking around corners kept an eye on all of the players, including the two unseen by the rest, coordinating positions and ensuring no one moved off course, uncomfortable in knowing a double agent held eyes in the sky and taking precautions to avoid cameras as she whispered soft directions into a comm, made by their miraculouses and impossible to hack due to the ancient magic encasing it.

By her side, a dragon crossed with a horse hovered in a tense side to side sway, awaiting her command. The other kept on tiptoe, knowing the call to assist could come at any point and from any direction. In the end, their disappearance back into the night at the end of all of this relied on her. Waiting too long differentiated between success and potential capture.

We'll take on the Bat. After all, I think it's high time he met my soulmate.

With baited breath, they watched as a shrouded man dropped in front of the Bat, making the figure twist at the last second to avoid a headlong collision. Batman turned back on the spot, dropping into a crouch and launching towards the man. The man dropped onto his back, kicking upward into a stomach and using the momentum to launch Batman across the roof while rolling back to a stand. He stayed facing away, though they saw his head tilt, listening to the almost silence behind him. As a flash of silver flung towards his back, he easily spun off to the side, dodging a barrage of batarangs as Batman methodically tossed them while placing himself closer and closer to the other before moving in to initiate hand to hand combat. The man seemed to take this in stride, shifting into the new pattern.

Across the rooftops, Robin took note of the fight and moved to aid. He made it three blocks before a fox dropped in front of him, growling. Taken aback, but knowing not to allow the distraction, he attempted to grapple upwards, only to find the grapple gone, in the teeth of a mouse like figure, taking off away from him, other mice figures crawling about his feet, holding him in place as the fox watched on, teeth bared in a silent warning. Keeping an eye on the strange creatures about him, he looked back to Batman, startling at the realization that he recognized his attacker. Jason. Suddenly he remembered the strange abilities of the lady from the night before and realized the creatures holding him captive where meant to keep him from interfering. As he made to move anyways, a voice in his ear on a private channel spoke up, asking him to stay still. Agent A.

"What's going on, A?"

"You'll see."

The figures continued on until the Bat begin to advance harder, looking to restrain his opponent, calling out to him, having deducted whom the figure is by this point.

"Jason stop!" Right as a fist went too fast to block, aimed straight to the man's nose, a cord wrapped around his fist, yanking in back. As Batman began to turn towards the source, a punch came to his face, bringing him back front and center. A possible second cord wrapped around his other wrist and the backs of his knees were kicked out from under him.

The others watched as a Ladybug held a yoyo taut, strings in a Y formation, the focal point centered between the Bat's shoulder blades to evenly distribute the tension. The Ladybug looped the yoyo over a pipe and pulled up until his arm bent back and upwards without tipping his torso down. If he tried anything, the bug could simply yank him airborne. The Bat choose to focus onto the man in front of him for the moment.

"Jason-"

"I'm not Jason."

We should switch. I have more experience with the Pit Madness than you. If I'm in your body, I can hold the entirety of it while you get a reprieve to focus on the mission. To have a clear mind while confronting him.

"What?" He demanded.

A sharp, feminine voice spoke up behind him, loud enough for the others to hear.

"I am."

Batman froze in his spot on his knees as the figure that looked like Jason sat down in front of him.

"Hello Bruce. It's good to meet you officially. Though I suppose I've known you much longer than you've known me." The lower, masculine voice was offset by its' soft lilting tone.

Despite his brain whirling with the information, he shoved it aside, firmly refusing to put it together himself.

"You're lying."

"She's not," the voice from behind moved closer, the yoyo secured on their hip to prevent his movement but free up the hands and gripped his shoulders in a crushing grip, "You see, Bruce, I hadn't been with you long enough to trust you with the secret of my having a soulmate. And you never knew me well enough to tell when we switched. Some detective you are, hmm?"

"So what, that makes this okay?" He growled.

"Patience," the figure in front of him smirked softly.

"Getting caught by the Joker at that moment, that was my own dumbass fault. You not arriving on time isn't your fault. I could live with that, but that isn't the end. I want you to look into the eyes in front of you, feel how small the presence behind you is. How tiny and young, despite being seventeen. I want you to look her in the eyes and know that she was only fourteen when she was launched into my body where she was beaten to a pulp by the Joker. Blown up. The connection broke. Then because it wasn't her body, she sat in my corpse for months before the resurrection. Had to crawl her way out of a grave and to a hospital."

The team tensed in the distance, having not heard the full story before now. Robin's eyes blew wide behind the mask, the tension in his body going slack in horror.

"Do you see that swirl of green in my blue eyes? How they look almost teal? That's from when the League threw her into the Lazarus Pits. She's combating insanity as we speak. And yet even with the healing effect it had, you can see the scars all over. There's an autopsy mark as well."

The shoulders in Jason's hands shook with his words and he looked up at Mari who seemed calm, letting the man stare at her and take in her reality.

"And none of that is truly your fault. But you know what is?" Marinette spoke up now, "That a fifteen and fourteen year old were ever put into that kind of danger to begin with. What's the likelihood of either of us ever falling onto Joker's radar without your placing us in the costume? Without making us Robin? Do you think Jason would've become a target had you not decided it was perfectly acceptable to allow children to fight criminals?"

"Jason was troubled, he needed someplace to put that anger. Something to let out-"

"Many children are troubled or angry. Do you know what other parents don't do? Allow that teen angst to turn into taking on the adult underworld. But sure, we'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Explain then why you couldn't care enough for Jason, for any potential child's life enough to create a permanent solution to our murderer? How many people, how many innocent kids is the Joker's life worth to you?"

"You obviously care more for the clown than us," Jason added.

"That's not true!"

"Then why? Why was my grave barely marked?"

"Two sentences in the Tuesday local obituaries."

"Swept under the rug to be forgotten."

"While you hunt us down for killing the clown. We deserve to be hunted down for avenging our own death."

"Meanwhile you do no such thing to the one who killed your supposed precious Robin. Did we mean so little to you? I wonder if the newest Robin means anymore than we did."

"So you're angry you were replaced?" Batman barked out, overwhelmed by their constant barrage of accusations.

Mari reached forward, forcing the man to look into the teal of those eyes swirling in front of him, watching him flinch away at knowing who she was, "You misunderstand us purposefully. It's not that we were replaced. It's that you know a child died for your cause and you still insist on placing another in harm's way. You take broken children desperate for guidance, for connection, for anything and abuse that position over them. You as their guardian are meant to keep them from harm's way. To protect them from the horrors of the world until they're old enough to face it in their own way. Not throw them in a costume, train them into weapons and then let them fight the most dangerous criminals the city could offer. Yes, we made some stupid choices of our own, but you set us up to even have those choices presented to us. Does it even occur to you that had we not shown up to save the little bird, another child would have died under your care? Does that mean nothing to you?"

The Bat growled, trying to break free of his binds. The two hid grins, knowing him unaware of the young eyes listening desperately for his answer.

"You certainly haven't thanked us for keeping him alive. Does it mean less to you that he is alive then it does that Joker is dead."

"You know the rules! We don't kill!"

He fell for it. He might as well have told the new Robin his life was forfeit to his cause. The mice scurried off Robin's feet from where he stayed, a rooftop over as the fox curved around his calves in an almost apologetic movement.

"Jason swore to abide by your rules. I never did. I was fourteen when I died due to your negligence. I was innocent. I was a happy little girl with dreams of becoming a fashion designer. Now I can't even keep the voices in my head from screaming in my ears at all hours of the day. But the only thing you truly care about in the end is yourself. I fear for any child that gets dragged into your mess. And I will do whatever it takes to protect them from the inevitability of your cruelty."

With that, she stood from her spot and took off into the shadows, a cat, dragon and mice following out of sight. The fox looked at the boy who stood broken on the rooftop and nudged him, dropping the illusion of an animal and holding her hand out in offerance. He looked back at the thrashing Bat.

Jason, taking hold of the yoyo once more and tightening his grip, leant closer, "I don't blame the Joker for our death. I blame you."

With that, he used the yoyo to fling Batman in the opposite direction, taking off in an off kilter path towards the others. Looking back at the patient fox figure, hand still waiting for his choice, he hesitated.

"The choice is yours, Timothy. I'll support you no matter what," A's voice spoke softly through the comms.

Exhaling slowly, he took her hand.

She lead him to their rendezvous point where he saw the mice form into one person, the two from the roof and two other unknown figures. As he looked at them, each gave a soft nod in turn before the one opened up a blue portal before them, the fox letting go of his hand to follow the others through. Eventually only him and the ladybug themed one remained. Jason.

"Come on, replacement. You can stay with us however long you like."

With the smallest smile of gratitude and the encouraging words of Alfred in mind, he followed the other through, the portal closing behind them.

#maribat #jasonette #ml x dc #WFTW #part 18 #kidnapping children the humane way

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cetaceans-pls · 4 years

Link

Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Characters: Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne

Summary:

Revolution and family both run on love and carbohydrates, and you can quote Jason on that.

Or, Jason swings by the Manor to find Alfred stress-cooking his heart out after a fight with Bruce, and over the course of making dumplings, the concept of caring by way of cooking becomes clear.

June got me feeling some kind of way about blatantly showing people you care about how much you care. We’re almost halfway through 2020, so keep on keeping on, and be charitable and kind as often as you possibly can.

Fic in Tumblr under the cut, and here’s my masterlist for more sweet sweet reads:

2020, right?

Jason’s not sure there’s anything left in his tank except for spite; it’s enough to get him out and about making sure that the GCPD watched their fucking step, but even spite is (surprisingly enough) not endless. That’s the hallmark of this most accursed of accursed years; prickly energy up-down his back that leaves him restless, and a complete inability to actually do any fucking thing about any fucking bit of it.

Times like these, there’s really just the one sure-fire way to re-find centre, and if it involves hacking into the family calendar to find just the right time when most everyone’s out of the house, well. There’s a reason Bruce never revoked his access, even if he’s got a second lifetime left to regret his pre-teen e-mail address ( ‘ [email protected] ’, where the w’s are of course for Wonder Woman, and the x’s are for Cool).

It’s a shitty hot June day, depression and distress are heavier in the air even than the choking humidity, and the Manor is quiet and cool in comparison. It’s tomb-like, yeah, but it’s not coffin-like and that makes all the difference. Jason comes in through the front door because he knows the house is mostly empty, and sheds layers as he goes. By the time he reaches the kitchen, he’s a full-grown man in ratty sweats and a sweat-damp undershirt, and Alfred looks up at him with endless warmth. “Why, Master Jason, if you had rung the bell I could have greeted you at the door.”

Jason looks both ways just in case, because this family is full up to the neck in people with horrific timing, before ducking down and pecking Alfred on the cheek; xxwwDangerBirdwwxx is not the only thing that stayed with him from childhood. “Heya, Alfie,” he says, already feeling 15 degrees better than he did outside. “I just let myself in, don’t sweat it. Am I interrupting something?”

He very clearly is. Alfred doesn’t have his coat on, and looks achingly domestic with his shirt sleeves neatly folded up and his soft fuzzy sweater-vest. His hands are a floury mess, kneading dough the size of two Dick-heads, but Alfred’s already moving away to wash his hands and put the kettle on. “Hey, no, you don’t have to, lemme just make my own-”

“Nonsense, Master Jason,” Alfred says, mild-mannered and a thousand times more menacing than Batman at his absolute worst. “It’s no trouble, there’s leftover roast beef from dinner yesterday, it won’t take a moment to make you a snack.”

And in less than said moment, Jason has tea-with-honey-and-milk, and a roast beef sandwich that smells like the dream ideal of every roast beef sandwich. He’s already eating before his brain can tell him to protest Alfred waiting on him, and the appreciative groan comes in right on queue, under a second after that first bite.

There is A Father, A Son, and A Holy Ghost, and they manifest all at once as an elderly British man with the finger strength of a mid-sized mountain gorilla. That dough is being beaten into absolute submission as Alfred gets back into the swing of things, and over the course of the consumption of a sandwich, it becomes a smooth, perfect lump that gets lovingly plopped into a bowl and covered with a damp tea cloth.

Alfred doesn’t ask Jason if there’s something wrong, or if he needs something. The clearest need is obviously the need to be home, and home Jason is, so whatever thing that next goes wrong had best be prepared to face Alfred and his selection of awful terrible knives that line the kitchen. He puts the bowl away on a shady spot on a windowsill and pulls out a mountain of onions instead, and gets to peeling.

Jason pulls out a switchblade from somewhere about his person, blitzes it with the hand sanitiser they’ve all been guilted into bringing with them at any and all times, and starts helping. His kitchen in his ratty apartment is where all the rats in the building like to hold Communion or something, so he’s long since given up having fresh produce around. Happily, vigilanteeism with a side of crime bossing keeps your knife skills sharp, and there’s something alarmingly freeing about peeling and chopping onions while unavoidable tears start up, in a sunny kitchen with your granddad.

“What’re we getting all these onions ready for, anyways?” Jason says, enjoying the excuse to have a stress cry. Alfred doesn’t suffer from waterworks, but that’s because he suffers from chronic dry eyes instead. It's a condition that persists despite every Robin in a long line of Robins buying every eye drop product on the market between them for him to try.

Crying's a funny ol’ thing in the Manor, and it’s also funny that Alfred’s probably seen the most tears despite being the man least capable of them.

“Everyone has been running ragged across the city recently, and I thought that dumplings might be quite a nice treat for dinner tonight. I assume you’ll be joining us, won’t you Master Jason?”

“Of course,” Jason says because there’s no point getting between Alfred and dinner participation. There’s a bigger issue at hand anyways; dumplings are delicious but also obnoxiously difficult to make in any quantity fit to feed Bats and Birds and their oversized appetites. Everybody in the household has a favourite type, but everybody in the household worries when they get their wish, because Alfred only ever makes dumplings for a full meal when he’s stress-cooking out of his mind.

The man can’t even stress-cry while cutting onions, for fuck’s sake.

It’s best to broach the topic with a soft touch, which sucks entire balls because it’s not exactly Jason’s specialty. “So, uh. What dumplings are we making today?”

“Only 3 types,” Alfred says with a hint of apology. “Xiaolongbao, because I wanted to finish up the last batch of stock I made and Master Dick does so enjoy soup dumplings. A side of cheese-and-spinach momos for Master Damian, who has mentioned missing Tibetan food. And seeing as how you’ll be joining us, as many gyoza as these old hands of mine are able to make, Master Jason.”

Okay, cool, so an infinity of endless, delicious potstickers then, all right. What a time to be alive, Jason thinks to himself. “Not making anything special for B, huh?”

The mood takes a turn for the spoilt, goes off faster than tipping a fistful of salt into a cup of milk. “Master Bruce will have whatever is available, and he will enjoy it,” Alfred says frostily, and chops the end off an onion with significantly more force than reasonable.

That’s the answer, then. Christ, what has Bruce done now? “Saw on the schedule that he’s got a board meeting for another couple of hours, Alfred, so you can lay it on me. What happened? Are you okay?”

Alfred looks at him at that, looks at him and smiles the smile he gets every year when he’s inundated with gifts on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day and the arbitrarily set Alfred’s Day (September 8th, as decided by Dick on a whim entire aeons ago), and Jason tries not to feel embarrassed because he’s a whole-ass adult but he doesn’t pretend he’s not pleased to have made the mood ease up. “I’m well, Master Jason, thank you for your concern. I’m afraid I can’t say the same for Master Bruce.” He sighs, and they fall into silence. B brings bad communication out of the best of men, what else is new.

The mound of onions done, Jason is assigned ginger and garlic and potatoes and more things fresh from the garden and greenhouse, while Alfred starts taking his frustration out on a mountain of meat.

Jason’s careful to keep their produce separate, as is Alfred; wouldn’t do to cross-contaminate meat into momos, after all. They work and they work and they work, until all the prep is done and all that’s left is the dough and the stuffing.

The duties get divided like this: Jason gets the cheese and the seasoned spinach to make vegetarian dumplings for Damian, and Alfred gets literally everything else. Despite this, though, Alfred’s sure fingers and devastating dexterity churn out beautifully-shaped dumplings at 4 times Jason’s top speed.

Jason’s got 8 done and Alfred’s putting an entire tray away when Alfred finally breaks their quiet and sighs, looking as old as he is (and isn’t that the most horrifying thing this horrifying year, hey). “Excuse my dour mood, Master Jason. I had an altercation with Master Bruce this morning, regarding his workload and his reluctance to delegate. It grew unfortunately heated, and I turned a blind eye to his extremely broken hand. I did not stop him from leaving the Manor for work." A little additional violence goes into the folding of the current gyoza, and Alfred's lips twist and turn down like a dumpling fold. "Decades I've spent looking after the man. It's alarming how he can still rile me up so."

Isn't that a Universal Truth. Alfred's Angry Gyoza still looks better than Jason's best go at a momo, which is also a Universal Truth. He just needs to try again, till he gets better. Alfred’s good at indirectly teaching patience, and directly practicing it himself, but everyone’s got a line and it’s not the first time somebody’s crossed this one. “It’s his special gift, swear to God. You know what they say, Alfie. Hell really is other people.” Oh, the pleats on this one are looking mighty fine. “Uh, just. How bad a break are we talking about here? What exactly did he do to piss you off this time?”

“He hasn’t had more than 2 hours of sleep a day since, oh, April, I believe. Master Bruce is trying to effect systemic change at both his day-time and night-time jobs, and he has been running on little more than righteous anger and painkillers for weeks. Master Tim has tried to talk him down, as have I, but yesterday he shattered his wrist in a fight with far too many pigs and I found him working down below when I woke up this morning with his hand wrapped up in duct tape.” Alfred sighs, and rubs at his forehead with the back of his hand. “Duct tape and batarangs for splints, Lord help me, because he didn’t want me to worry about the true extent of his injuries.”

And now Bruce is in his civvies with an unknown number of broken bones and a blood opium level that’s over 9000, trying to do good in a no-good world, and all Alfred can do is to become more dumpling machine than man to avoid the deep unpleasantness of it all.

Jason whistles. He thought he’d been having a bad time but at least Alfred was a surefire source of comfort. Alfred’s place to turn to until he’d walked in was just a lump of dough, shit. “Sounds about right for him. But Alfie, how ‘bout you? You’re the one co-ordinating the largest band of crime fighters outside the League, and you’re most of the reason why the man that does co-ordinate the League is even a little bit functioning.” Bruce is a whole entire adult man filled to the brows with idiocy, sure, but… “If everyone’s running ragged you’re gonna be running ragged-est, and if I thought that was the case, we-ell. Duct tape starts looking better and better.”

Alfred looks affronted and gently outraged. “I have been doing just fine, Master Jason. I am not the man running around in costume trying to punch unkindness out of his fellow man. I am just the butler, sitting at home making dumplings, while the master of the household is tripping across the financial district in screaming pain.” Uh oh, here comes another Angry Gyoza, perfectly-shaped and squeezed just a shade too hard.

Jason puts down a slightly-less-crappy momo on his tray, and reaches across the small kitchen table to catch Alfred by the wrist, gentle as anything. “Alfie, I’m saying this as someone who loves you so much I’d literally kill for you,” and boy Jason sure does mean literally, “but hard-headedness is a learned trait, and we got it from B and B got it from you. The man’s an idiot, sure, but sounds like he’s probably at least as worried ‘bout you as you are ‘bout him. Does that sound about right?”

Ah, he really does suck at this whole sweetly-softly thing, but it’s clear once you think to look. Alfred’s game face is in many ways more impenetrable even than a cowl and a mask, but there’re dark circles under his eyes, he’s sallow instead of just pale, and there’s an exhausted stoop to his back that’s usually hidden under a perfectly-tailored suit jacket. Jason’s seeing it now after weeks of work keeping him away from the Manor; if he’d been seeing Alfred like this every day for the past god-knows-how-long, self-care with tape would suddenly seem incredibly appealing.

Alfred looks at his hand, Jason looks at Alfred, and they’re both quiet for a while. Jason thinks he should let go, but he also can’t help but feel that if he does, Alfred’s going to go back to being ‘just the butler’, and that’s not right, not right at all.

In the end, Alfred makes the first move, pulling away just so that he can pat the back of Jason’s hand. “It’s always a pleasant surprise to see how you have grown into such a fine young man,” he says absently, devastatingly. “Especially given the role models you were saddled with. Master Bruce…. may have brought up that I was working more than I should, though he did not come up with a viable alternative.” Alfred rolls his eyes, a rarity in public view. “He tried to give me a curfew; off the comms by midnight, Alfred, that’s the rule.”

They both snort at that. No one’s respected curfew in any format at any age in this household, and it’s almost sweet how Bruce nevertheless keeps trying it on child, adult, and parent alike.

“Nevertheless,” Alfred continues, hand still on Jason’s, “it’s a fair point to say that my and Master Bruce’s worrying over each has grown somewhat out of control, and changes need to be made. It… would help to have another pair of hands at the Manor.”

Oh, no. Alfred’s about-turn raises Jason’s suspicions, but it’s too late for him to do anything about it.

“Oh,” Alfred says with an exaggerated sigh, a smile hiding in plain sight, “it would do my old heart good if Master Bruce were to have more assistance during his night-time escapades. And if someone were available to help me cut onions and dice garlic, that would help too.”

Jason’s already fucking sunk, because he’s learned how to say ‘no’ to many things and 'fuck off' to a few more, but he’s never learned how to turn down an Alfred who works harder than most anyone to never ask for more than what his family can give.

He groans, completely trapped. “I’m a grown adult and I’m not moving back home with my family, Alfie, c’mon.”

Alfred pats him again, and goes back to making Jason’s favourite dumplings. “Of course, Master Jason, but that’s no reason why you couldn’t have dinner at home more often. Besides, who will badger and bully Master Bruce into being a more reasonable man if not for you?”

That’s a reasonable ask, because post-resurrection Jason has carved out time in his busy schedule to constantly prod and poke Bruce into being less of an asshole. And if Jason’s willing to go on a murderous rampage at Alfred’s behest, coming by more often to work together and help out isn’t much of an ask at all.

“Stop it, you already know I’m gonna say yes,” Jason grumbles, moving back to his task. “Alfie, you’re the absolute worst manipulator in the entire house, and this house is full of bastards.”

Alfred just laughs quietly, seeming more at ease and at peace than he was at the start. "I'm afraid, sir, I'll have to respectfully disagree. Hell may be other people, but this family, I think, is about as good as it gets."

And really, what's a good comeback to that?

Jason's setting the kitchen table for dinner while Alfred handles the steamer baskets and griddle with tremendous aplomb when the door creeps open timidly. That has Jason immediately on high alert, because nobody in the Manor does anything timidly.

It's Bruce, looking how he looks when he's about to go 3 rounds with the Joker while Killer Croc's nipping at one heel and the Penguin’s gnawing on the other. His right hand is wrapped in a blue cast, strapped to his front in a utilitarian white sling, and his left arm is weighed down with a grocery bag filled to bursting with what looks to be a guilty gift of assorted snacks and baked goods.

(Alfred is a nightmare to shop for; anything from a pet rock to a chef’s knife made of Damascus steel and beaten gold would be received with the same expression of fond long-suffering. Literally the finest analytical minds in the country still don't know if he's a Coke or a Dr. Pepper man, urgh.)

“Hello, Jason,” Bruce greets him, but his eyes are stuck fast on Alfred, calculating and hesitant.

“Hey, B,” Jason calls back, and takes the time to enjoy the sight of the big bad Batman mousily scurrying into the kitchen as he tries to gauge Alfred’s mood. “Went shopping, huh?”

“Just a few things.” Bruce carefully puts the bag on the kitchen counter and stops there, glancing at Alfred’s back warily. “It’s good to see you.”

Where Jason’s stood he can make out Alfred’s extremely indulgent smile, and it’s pretty clear he’s dragging the moment out to let Bruce stew a little. It’s a pretty worthwhile activity, so Jason just goes along with it, even though he can see Bruce tensing up as he sees the endless platters of dumplings and immediately Understands what sort of day Alfred’s been having. “Same, I guess. Your hand okay?”

That perks B right up. In a slightly too-loud voice, like he wants to make sure Alfred hears him, he says, “Could be worse. Leslie had me fixed up, and she’s putting me on strict rest for a week.” Another cautious peek at the stern line of Alfred’s back. “Doctor’s orders, and I have some investigative work to catch up with anyways, so Dick is stepping in for me for a few days.”

Christ, the peace offering couldn’t be made any more blatant if Bruce had come complete with a fruit basket and a Hallmark card of a sad-looking lamb. Jason almost wants to laugh, but he’s starting to feel a bit bad about the surreptitious glances, the uncertain line of the lip. Everyone’s been there, right? Done something a bit dumb and hurt somebody important, unwilling or unable to apologise, and when you try to make up for it it’s just butterflies-in-stomach and cheek-chewing until the other person gives a clear sign that it’s okay, it’s okay, Jaybird, I’m not upset about the car, I’m just glad you’re safe -

Nostalgia’s heavier in the air than the smell of fresh-fried potstickers. Lucky, though, that kindness is probably something you pick up from your parents too, because by the time Jason comes back to the moment Alfred’s already turned to face Bruce, an ice pack in hand. “I am delighted to hear it, sir,” Alfred tells him stiffly, but is gentle as anything as he leads Bruce to a kitchen chair and helps him ice his swollen hand.

The relief that takes over Bruce’s entire face when Alfred finally talks to him is eye-watering in its vulnerability, and the way he melts into the chair under the slightest bit of fussing is, honestly, equal parts sweet and sad.

Alfred must be similarly moved, because he procures a cushion out of thin air for Bruce to rest his arm on so that he can be free of the sling, and takes a moment to just stand there and brush dark hair away from a worn-out face. Bruce is out of it enough that he’s got his eyes closed and he’s just enjoying the careful touch, and Jason wants to scream a little, because how was Alfred surprised he grew up into an okay kind of guy when this was the standard the household set?

“Good man,” Alfred says, and maybe it’s in response to following Dr. Thompkins orders, but it’s pretty hard to misread that really, he just means 'good' in every way a man can be good when he looks at a half-asleep Bruce like that. “I’ll put the kettle on, and you can nibble on some pierogies while we wait for the family to gather, Master Bruce.”

That wakes Bruce right back up. “Are they-”

“Filled with cheese and potatoes, sir, of course. Why would I make anything but your favourite?” Alfred sniffs like he’s offended, but he’s still smiling as he pats Bruce on the shoulder before heading back to counter and Bruce’s bag of apologroceries.

He fishes out a beautiful red-and-white bakery box, and looks legitimately impressed. “Oh, my, Master Bruce. How did you find Bakewell tarts in Gotham? I haven’t had any in years, and I must confess to being partial to them.”

“Cross-referenced the ingredients of every perishable snack item available in the UK against the fresh produce that you buy often enough to be a statistically significant indicator of preference,” Bruce says around a yawn, like he’s not being absolutely insane right now. “Sorted it into an alphabetized list and sourced them from across the tri-state area. Letters A through to J are in that bag, but-,” another yawn, like Alfred and pierogies are the only thing keeping him going, “-but I’m glad I found you something you liked, Alfred.”

Jason just sits there, committing to memory that Alfie likes whatever the hell a Bakewell is, that he also somehow managed to make an entire dumpling series without Jason noticing, that Bruce fuckin’ Wayne’s favourite dump has cheesy mash stuffing, and that this is how to show care and affection when words are damn hard to get out. He sighs, because he has to fucking sigh, because now he’s so goddamn stricken over how love is inherent in groceries, and it’s so embarrassing how he absolutely, 100% would obliterate a nation in the name of the two men in this quiet little kitchen in the cursed year of our Lord, 2020.

When Alfred does return from the stove bearing a plate of piping hot pierogies for Bruce and gyoza for Jason, he feels OP enough to rip into the throat of the cruelty inherent in this world with his bare fucking teeth, and right after dinner, he really fucking will.

(Revolution and family both run love and carbohydrates, and you can quote him on that).

a/n: i don’t legitimately think anybody reads fic on tumblr bc i definitely loathe doing it so i mostly just write this to 1. soundboard myself and 2. wish that you’re doing okay just in case you did make it here. what a year of agonies, but the hope is that it’ll be 2021 and when you look back you think, oh, those were growing pains, and the world is tangibly better for having weathered it.

that’s the hope.

#batman #jason todd #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #jay & alfie #alfie & b #batfam #spoilers: this is just several thousand words of me thinking about what it means to look out for someone you care about #god cannot believe i went down the bathole and it's not the tech or the detectiving or the fighting that got me #it's just me consistently crying over the concept of familial bonds

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poisonmurderthot · 4 years

Text

BatFlash Week: Death

Hey guys I wrote another thing for my favorite rare pair! I hope everyone enjoys this!

The casket was too small. In his many years doing this he never saw a small casket before. It shook him to his core. Faces flitted in and out of his vision as he stared at the small casket. Jason was only 15. Bruce nodded as people offered him condolences, patting him on the shoulder as they left the funeral, hurrying away from the incoming rain. He was supposed to be putting dirt on the casket but… he couldn’t. The dirt was clenched in his hand, but his fist was shaking. Clark was the last one to linger as the rain began to fall. A few drops at first, but it didn’t matter. Alfred was ever his dutiful self and had brought an umbrella, opening it up at the first sounds of rain. Clark squeezed Bruce’s shoulder, making the man glare. How dare he treat him like a child? Clark opened his mouth to say something but stopped when Alfred shook his head at him. Clark sighed and wrapped an arm around Lois, listening for once and heading to his car. Dick and Barbara were behind Alfred, but frankly Bruce wished they would leave too.

“Alfred?” He rasped out, making the man startle.

“Yes, Master Bruce?”

“May I have some time alone?”

Alfred frowned but nodded anyways, “only if you take this umbrella.” Bruce gave a weak smile and nodded, taking the umbrella from him as the rain poured down even harder. Jason loved the rain. It was… had been an excuse to stay inside with Alfred all day to cook and read. The quiet splashing of his family retreating disappeared quickly in the sounds of the rain as the dirt fell from his hand. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. Bruce couldn’t bring himself to apologize to this broken coffin, it was wrong. He should be hugging Jason, holding him and telling him he was sorry. He should have gotten Jason the help he needed, taught him coping mechanisms, just… something.

“Bats?”

The familiarity of the nickname and the sudden voice made him jump, though of course he didn’t show it. Bruce turned around to face the speaker, finding Wally West standing there, soaked to the bone. His red curly hair was plastered to his forehead and was dripping water into his eyes even as he shook it out. “Wally? I didn’t know you were here…”

Wally smiled sadly and shrugged, “I’ve been taking more of a wallflower persona lately. It was something Jason taught me.”

“Why are you still here?”

Wally frowned and reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out something in a ziplock bag. “I’m glad I had the idea to put this in plastic before I left today. I wanted to give you this. I… uh well… I made it when I heard the news. I loved Jason; he was like a little brother to me. You probably never noticed but we hung out a lot.” He handed the small book to Bruce and rubbed the back of his neck. “I had a bunch of pictures from those times and thought you would want them. So, and I know this is silly okay? But I made you a small photo album with them. I hope it helps.” Bruce looked at the book with wide eyes then back up at Wally. Wally’s eyes were red, and his pale skin was flushed from the tears he had been trying to hide.

“I knew you two were close. I was so happy Jason had someone other than me or Alfred to talk to.” Bruce squeezed the album close and did the unthinkable. He dropped the umbrella and pulled Wally into a hug. “Thank you, Wally. For this and for being his friend.”

Wally chuckled thickly, the tears finally catching up to him. “Don’t thank me Bats, I’m just glad I get to share the memories with you. I’m sorry by the way. We were supposed to hang out the night it happened, I just thought something came up. You know how it is.”

Bruce let go of Wally and pushed him back, holding him so they were an arms length apart. “Don’t apologize, just think of the good, for me please.”

Wally sniffled, “okay I will.” He smiled and laughed, “hey. It’s not traditional funeral food, but do you think Alfred could help us whip up some chili dogs? Or is it bad that after all this talk of Jason is making me crave them?”

Bruce laughed with the redhead and shook his head, “I think chili dogs for today sound amazing”

Wally’s hand shook as he adjusted his grip on his uncle’s (empty) casket. He was at the front, Hal Jordon was next to him, tears streaming his face. Wally kept his eyes trained on the doors ahead of him, he couldn’t stand to look at the people whose eyes were full of pity and shook their heads at him. Someone cleared their throat as he passed, making him turn. Alfred was there. He was sitting next to Dick and the ‘new’ Robin. Wally didn’t learn his name yet. Alfred smiled at him and he found himself offering a small smile in return. Alfred was the grandfather he never had. Wally turned his attention back to the front, his knees shaking with relief when he saw he was a few steps away from finishing this spectacle. He couldn’t handle the stares anymore. Poor little Wally West wasn’t wanted by his own parents, and then his uncle took him in and now he’s gone! What a sad life! They could suck it. He slid the casket into the hearse and stepped back, reaching out for his Aunt Iris’s hand which she grabbed gratefully. She gave it a squeeze as people began filtering out of the church. Barry had never been a religious man, but he did believe in God. Wally thought that was dumb. With everything they saw, and knowing the Greek gods were real, how could you still believe in religion?

“Wally? Are you ready?”

“Huh? What’s wrong?”

Wally turned to his aunt who smiled softly, “it’s time for the luncheon, no Allen-West funeral would be complete without food.”

“Oh right.” He wasn’t hungry. Even though he ran around the world three times today and hadn’t ate since yesterday. He guided Iris towards the little side door where the dining hall of the church was, then stood by the door and nodded at people as they walked in.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I made you food.”

After then tenth ‘I’m sorry’ Wally became deaf. He just nodded to get through the line. He felt like he was going to explode. Iris looked at him sympathetically. She knew what was on his mind, they had been planning it ever since he became and adult. The public didn’t know the truth of what happened a week ago. They thought Kid Flash died, not the Flash. Wally wasn’t ready to take on the mantel but… he had to. Iris reached out between the crowd and grabbed his arm. He looked down at her in surprise as she squeezed his wrist and mouthed exactly what he needed. ‘Go. Run away, just come back to me when you’re done.’ His body sagged in relief when she let go and all it took was him to lower his head and walk away. No one stopped him as he went between the buildings and no one flinched when a black blue suddenly went by them. Within a second he was hopping in his aunt’s backyard, trying to stomp out the fire from his shoes.

“Shit!” He threw the shoes off quickly and placed them on the concrete where they smoldered. He walked in through the he back door into the kitchen and froze when he saw Alfred Pennyworth standing there. Alfred’s eyes grew wide as they stared at each other. “Uh… how did you get in here?”

“I have my ways. Why are you home so early?”

“Iris sent me home. What are you doing?”

Alfred looked down at the pots and pans and narrowed his eyes at him, “making you comfort food. Iris asked me for help because you haven’t been home in a few days. When was the last time you ate?”

Wally sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, “Uh…”

“That’s what I thought! Go get changed!”

“Okay! Geez!” Wally went to go upstairs but stopped when he saw Bruce Wayne standing in the hallway, looking at the pictures on the wall. “You’re here too huh, Bats?”

“Wally! You’re back early.” Bruce looked at him sheepishly and rubbed his shoulder, looking comical for a second as he struggled to find what he wanted to say. “I wanted to…”

“If you apologize or say something stupid, I’m leaving! Without eating! I’m so sick of people treating me like I’m broken! He’s gone! Just like Jason! There’s nothing we can do! HES GONE AND I… I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” Wally screamed as tears fell down his face. “God dammit! Dammit!” He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop the flow of tears, but it made it worse. “Fuck the universe Bruce! Fuck you and fuck everyone!” Wally fell to his knees as his legs gave out, “I’m not ready!”

Bruce frowned and got down on his knees as well, surprising himself as he wrapped his arms around Wally and let him sob into his shoulder. Wally grabbed onto him like a lifeline. “I know.”

“This is wrong!”

“I know Wally. You have every right to be mad. You have every right to cry. What do you need right now? I could leave if you want to be alone.”

Wally cling tighter, “n-no… just let me cry and maybe beat you up later okay? I’m still mad but if you leave right now, you’re gonna see a really ugly crying face and I’m not ready for that.”

Bruce chuckled despite himself, “okay. You can cry now, and later come to the bat cave and you can take some of your anger out on me in the sparring ring okay?”

“Okay.”

Wally buried his face in Bruce’s jacket, the wetness already sleeping through to his skin. “What is Alfred making?”

“I don’t know, would you like anything specific?”

Wally pulled away and wiped his nose, a small smile on his face. “Would it be bad to say chili dogs sound amazing right now?”

Bruce chuckled sadly and shook his head, “not at all.” He stood up and offered Wally his hand, who took it and clasped it gratefully as they headed into the kitchen.

Beep……….. Beep………… Beep…………

Wally hated hospitals. The harsh lights gave him a headache and showed everyone’s ages in stark reality. Bruce’s gray hair was bright and glittering around his temples and the light showed he was now more salt than pepper at this point. It was time for another dye job. The oxygen mask hid some of his smile lines, but the wrinkles around the eyes and on the forehead looked deeper than they were in this light.

They had been married for ten glorious years. Bruce was pushing fifty, Wally was pushing forty. Nine years didn’t seem as big of a gap now as it did back then. He spun the ring on his finger as he stared at his husband lying on the bed. He had been out for five weeks. Wally visited every day. At first the whole family visited every day, but Mari and John were scared that Grandpa wasn’t waking up, Jason had a new baby, Tim and Barbara were having a baby, and Damian… well he was dealing with his grief. Some people had died, but no one who deserved to live in either of their opinions. Wally shifted on the hard chair, his hand reaching out and grasping Bruce’s cold one. There was a knock on the door before it creaked open. Wally glances up quickly before turning his attention back to Bruce with narrowed eyes.

“You have a lot of nerve coming here now. It’s been five fucking weeks.”

Clark cleared his throat nervously, “Wally I’m sorry, but- “

“No! You don’t get to be the good guy here!” Wally stood up so fast his chair was knocked over with a clatter. “He took a fucking bullet for you and what happened!? He gets attacked by Doomsday while you’re off doing who knows what!”

“I was saving civilians!”

Wally glared at him, “that’s not your job during those missions, and you know that. We’re the civilian team, you and Wonder Woman are the horrific monster beating team! Bruce knew what had to be done!”

“That’s not fair! I have a family Wally! I’m allowed to feel scared!”

Wally turned his glare to Clark. “When you’re wearing that symbol, you don’t have the right to be scared. And don’t you dare use the family argument! We have five kids and three grandkids! Plus, one on the way!” Wally set his chair upright again and sat down, grabbing Bruce’s hand. “Clark… you’re still my friend but I’m starting to see why Bruce always kept a close eye on you. You’re old now, you can’t do everything anymore. It’s time you stop acting like you can be in multiple places at once. If you had… maybe I wouldn’t be in this room right now, wondering if I’m going to have to pull the plug on my husband…”

Clark sighed, “I’m sorry Wally. You’re right I wasn’t thinking. We’re all getting so old now… it’s hard to realize that I can’t do some of the things I used to.”

“Clark. I don’t want to hear it. I’m so mad at you right now and I won’t be okay until Bruce wakes up.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

Wally fell silent before sighing and rubbing his eyes, “this will be the last you see of me in person. I won’t be able to handle being around you knowing you inadvertently killed him. I’m sorry Clark, but we have a family together and they will need me more than the League does.”

“So, you’re quitting?”

Wally sighed and nodded, “my ear-piece hasn’t been in in weeks. Just take me off the roster. I’ll come back if he does.” He lifted Bruce’s hand and gave it a kiss as he turned his back on Clark.

“Alright then. I’ll tell the League.” Clark set something down and reached for the door again. “For the record I am so sorry. I didn’t realize…”

“He’s almost fifty Clark. He’s only human.”

“Goodbye Wally.”

“Goodbye Clark.”

The door swung shut behind Clark and Wally felt tears drop from his eyes. They landed on the covers lightly, causing several wet circles to dot Bruce’s bed. Bruce didn’t move. Wally sighed and wiped his tears before standing up, it was time for him to go home. He walked to the head of the bed and pressed a kiss to Bruce’s forehead. “I love you Bruce. Hope you have an amazing night.” Wally squeezed Bruce’s hand one last time before heading back home to the manor where he could fight the urge to eat a giant plate of chili dogs.

#Batflash #batflash week #death #batman and the flash #Batman: The Animated Series #justice league #Justice League Unlimited #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x wally west #bruce x wally #Wally West #i just really love this pair

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edyacouky · 5 years

Text

DC Comics JayRoy Wedding (5/6)

Ok I still have one chapter then it will be complete.

I hope you will like this little story.

(Can be read on AO3)

~*~

In six years, so many things change.

During a mission, Roy almost lost his left arm. He could not work as Arsenal for a long period of time. It forces him to rethink what he can do, who he can be.

Their family life, his relationship with Jason wasn’t always good because of that. At first, he was irascible and depressed. He wasn’t believe the re-education would be efficient and there were many time where his sobriety was threatened.

“Fuck Roy! Jason yells at him one night where Roy was particularly difficult. You never were only an archer! You’re smart; you can do anything you want! So stop being so stupid or I swear I take the kids and leave you behind!”

Roy feels like Jason slaps him. He knows that Jason was serious. Never he will stand have his children dealing with a parent always high on drugs and alcohol.

The next days, he stays at his workshop. He was avoided it after his accident because he didn’t think he could continue to work on his projects with only one arm. But his fears disappear. It was difficult but when it was reorganizing, he realizes he can still work. He realizes Jason was right. Roy is smart and can do anything he wants. He even patented some of his inventions, allowing his family to have more legal money back.

“Thank you. Roy said one night where they were in bed. For staying with me, even when I was an asshole.

-Roy, we deal with each other hassle for almost fourteen years. One more will not make me run away. And it was my plan all along that you become a rich inventor who can support me.

-Oh really? I should’ve known. Roy said before kiss Jason. You’re too good in sex for not being a trophy wife.

-You’re stupid! Jason laugh

-I’m your stupid. Fuck. I was your stupid for fourteen years. It doesn’t make us younger.

-Poor thing. Maybe you’re too old for sex. I should let you sleep.

-Don’t you dare.” Roy almost groans before kiss Jason

And sooner that they would like, Roy repay Jason in kind when they realize Jason read more on the lips that he really hear people. At almost thirty years old, Jason becomes deaf. Jason was uncomfortable with having to put his safety back on a small, easily breakable device.

“Don’t worry Jaybird. Roy tells him. I will make you the best ear protection that could exist.”

But he was also afraid that one day maybe, even with the best ear protection, he couldn’t hear his family’s voice, their laugh.

That fear was rude to endure and never leaves Jason despite reassurance of his family.

~*~

Colin, even with missing some school years, success passes high school and at twenty-two years old he works as a mechanic in a good garage and sometimes helps Roy with his invention.

He knew that Roy and Jason will be happy to pay him for his studies in any university in any country. But he doesn’t like school, but he always loves car and bike. And the fact that he was something he could share with Jason was a most.

Damian tells Colin his decision was a waste of his capacity.

“You are doing studies for being veterinary. You’re not doing Harvard or Cambridge either. Colin said

-I already have master in different domain.

-Yeah but you do nothing with it.

-I use them as Robin.

-How? You slap Penguin with your certificate?

-Tt. Why do I bother talk with you?”

~*~

Lian becomes officially a teenager. Jason and Roy cry a little when it happens. She takes after Roy his love for arrow and bow, and she was talented. Neither Roy nor Jason was happy that both of their children decide becoming vigilante. Colin was too old so they can do anything about that. And Lian becomes more stubborn. More than twice in the same week, they catch her follow them.

“I want to help! She yells at them

-You can help without risk your life!

-Then why didn’t you do it? Why did you come back at home covered by blood and injured if there are other ways?! I want help you!” She desperately wants to cries but she said nothing and keep follow them

~*~

“Everyone! Hurry up! Jason yells. If we are late again, Alfred will be made at me!

-Don’t see how it is my problem. Lian answer while brushing his hair on the bathroom

-It will be if it makes me mad.

-That’s Daddy will be depriving of sex.

-And you little pumpkins you are depriving of sex till you are seventy years old. Roy said make her hurry up

-Finally! Jason exclaims when his family is ready to go. Up. Up.”

Another wedding was celebrating this year.

It was Tim and Kon’s wedding.

Despite Bruce’s insistence, the couple decide to refuse use the Wayne’s garden. Kon wanted have a ceremony outdoor but wasn’t comfortable have it at Gotham. And Tim’s family has enough money so they can go easily to another state. So all the guests have to go to Smallville.

The Batclan agree to travel together. And now, the Harper family was almost too late at the airport.

“I don’t understand why you have to take so many times this morning. Jason grumbles. We will have to dress at Smallville anyway.

-Looks sweetheart, Roy said, perfection needs time.

-Perfection for what? It is two a.m. and the wedding is tomorrow night.

-Alfie will be perfectly dress. Lian said

-Alfred can’t be badly dress. It is super power. Jason laugh

-Don’t worry Jaybird. Roy said. It is Bruce’s private jet. We won’t be too late.

-You know what? I will let you defend yourself from the other’s annoyance.”

The flight was long and exhausting, especially with the children who don’t seem able to rest well.

“Do you think my Father will be mad if I open one of plane’s doors? Damian ask when Jacob cries again

-I think everyone will be glad if the plane crash. Colin jokes. At least we could rest in peace.”

Helena starts a caprice upsetting Mar’i which makes Lian groans. None of adults’ techniques to calm them seems to works.

The relief they all express when the flight was over was indescribable. The worst for the parents was when they saw their children run everywhere around the Kent’s house.

“Are they ever tired? Jason sights when they all sit for coffee

-I take that the flight wasn’t going well. Tim said with a little smile he knew it was a good idea to leave sooner

-They won’t have sugar before bed. That’s for sure. Bruce groans and everyone agree

-Well don’t worry. There are enough camping tents so kids can be between them.”

And it was a good thing. Because the children keep talking even when they were supposed to sleep. The cicadas were quieter than them.

Tomorrow morning, they were tired eating breakfast, and the adults well rested. It doesn’t stay like that too long. The excitation for the wedding wakes them and nothing can stop them.

“Papa. Not like that my hair. Lian complains to Jason while Roy helps Colin with his tie. Like the photo.

-Lian, Jason said calmly. The woman on the photo doesn’t have same hair as yours.

-But I want same hair as her. Lian pouts

-You will be beautiful Pumpkins. Have faith on Jason. Roy said. You look good, Colin.

-Thanks.” Colin answers

He blushes a little, he have difficulty believe they give him a tailored tux. Years ago, never he would believe being so lucky.

“I am sure Damian will find you awesome. Lian grins after agree Jason change a little her hair dress so that it's better for her

-Who knows? Maybe the next wedding will be yours. Jason adds

-That’s not … Colin’s face was as red as his hair. Well when you and dad will get married?”

Jason just smiles and doesn’t even try to answer. Roy would like to say something but the true is Jason and him never really talk about getting married. They joke about that, think about the worst seating plan ever. But Roy doesn’t have even a little idea if Jason will say yes if he asks him the question.

Luckily, a knock on the door telling them that everyone is waited in twenty minutes stops the conversation.

“You’re beautiful, Honey. Jason said to Lian before kiss her cheek

-Thank Papa.”

When everyone was seated outside, without a cloud at sight, the music started. Clark brings Kon to the altar and Bruce brings Tim. At first the couple wanted walks to the altar together, but Clark and Bruce seemed so disappointed with their decision that they changed their minds.

“Too bad. Roy murmurs

-What? Jason asks

-No bouquet this time.”

Jason laughs, doesn’t expected this answer.

“What? Who did propose pay it for them so my legacy can go on?

-I did.

-Seriously?

-Seriously. But they said it was not worth it. I thought because they had already chosen their bouquets. Roy pouts

-You’re unbelievable Roy Harper.” Jason smiles before kiss him

Jason cannot believe it and he will not admit to Roy but, he was a little disappointed that there wasn’t bouquet to catch this time.

Each time Jason catch a bouquet, Roy’s smile was beautiful and full of promise. Even when Jason was at his worst, he was longing for this smile.

~*~

The reception was so nice, everybody has so much fun. There was dancing, playing, singing. Enough food and drink to keep dancing, playing and singing.

The Kent doesn’t have close neighbors so they could be as loud as they wanted, no one with super power have to fear showed it, which was good for the kids.

And the sky was so beautiful. Full of star with the full moon. They almost not needed any flash light for coming back to their camping tent.

At four a.m. Roy and Jason walk to their tent. Or at least they try. In each other arms, they keep kissing without looking where they put their feet.

“You know what I was thinking? Roy asks Jason after they almost fall, again

-What I will do to you when we finally arrive to our tent?

-God yes. Roy whispers before kiss him fiercely. But no.

-No? Jason said confused by the mixed signal he received here

-In fact, I was thinking that we are together for fourteen years and there is a question that I never ask you.

-Roy. Jason warns him with a sight

-I am not proposing. I haven’t any ring. Roy said doesn’t understand Jason reaction. But we never talk about that. I don’t even know what you could answer me.

-And now it is the good moment to talk about that?

-I didn’t thought you will react that badly. Are you against marry me?”

Jason stay quiet, holding back tears and cannot look at Roy.

“Talk to me Jaybird. If it is no, I will not be mad.

-That’s not that simple.

-Explain then.”

Jason took a deep breathing then takes Roy’s hand to walk again. Roy let him take his time and finally Jason said:

“I am legally dead Roy. I can’t marry you.

-That’s it or it is an excuse because you worried tell me no. Roy asks because it is something Jason still do, do and say thing event if he didn’t want fearing the rejection

-I trust you Roy. If it was no I would tell you. Promise.

-So, if it is just that the problem, we could make you a new identity. Then we could marry and you could even adopt our children.

-That’s not that simple.

-How so? I don’t understand.

-It would be me that will marry you. You will not answer yes to “Do you want to marry Jason Peter Todd?” and I just … That’s stupid …

-Hey! If it is important for you, it is not stupid. We could use your real name for the fake identity. There are lots of homonyms in the world.

-That’s not the same. I … No one really expecting much to me, you know? I was some kid from Crime Alley. With a father dealer and a mother junkie. Even when Bruce took me in. Non one really believes I could do something with my life. Not Brucie’s friends, not my teachers, not the students. Not me. And they were right. I get myself killed, because of the Joker and my biological mom. Did you know statistically what kill kids from Crime Alley? Their parents then Gotham villains. I was in another country but I didn’t escape the statistic.

-Jason…You’re alive.

-I know. I know. And I am happy. With you, with the children. I don’t think it was a mistake I came back to life anymore but … I died. That true. I died. I didn’t prove wrong to people who doubt me. In fact I prove that they were right. I am still legally dead. Every time anyone thought of Jason Todd they think “Oh this Crime Alley kid that died.”

-You are not only that, Jaybird. You are a good son…

-I know.

-A good father…

-I know.

-A good boyfriend…

-I know.

-A good brother…

-I know, Roy! I know. But it doesn’t change that I wanted, I want to prove that I, Jason Peter Todd, can be better than what everyone think of me. I want to marry you, I want adopt our children but as me, Jason Peter Todd, son of Willis Todd, Catherine Johnson, Sheila Haywood and Bruce Wayne.

-Waouh. You collect parent as much as Bruce collect kids.”

Jason slaps his arm, but smiles a little.

“Don’t make me laugh. I am serious here.

-I know, Jaybird. I understand what you mean. Look, maybe we can make your resurrection official.

-It has been what sixteen, eighteen years that I came back to life. Which explanation can we find? It is too late Roy.

-Jason …

-Please…

-If … Would you want marry me if we can?

-Of course.

-Adopt our children?

-More than I want marry you.

-Ouch! But understandable. They are perfect.”

They look at each other a long time without another word say. Tenderly, Roy hugs Jason, kissing his temple, his cheek, his nose, and his lips.

“I want to but I am legally dead, Roy. Nothing can change that” Jason said sadly with finality

In eighteen years, so many things stay the same.

Roy didn’t insist. It was late, they were tired and they could always talk about that later. For now, all they want was enjoy their tent under the stars.

~*~

What they didn’t know is that a little robin hears them.

#dc comics #jayroy #brulina #dickory #timkon #fanfic #wedding #jason todd #roy harper #damicolin #bruce wayne #selina kyle #lian harper #colin wilkes #damian wayne

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haunt-the-stars · 5 years

Text

Ornaments

Written for Batfam Christmas Stocking 2018 for @starknjarvis27 ‘s prompts “A seemingly normal holiday activity accidentally makes someone sad, someone else comforts them.” & “Jason’s first Christmas back at the manor”

Fandom: Batman (Comics)

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain (mentioned), Dick Grayson (mentioned), Tim Drake (mentioned), Damian Wayne (mentioned)

Category: Gen

Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Every once in a while, Bruce wondered what it was like to have five mostly-grown children in a normal-sized house. Usually, he immediately wished he didn’t wonder about it, because the idea was terrifying. His family not being able to spread out to their own spaces...it would be awful for everyone except perhaps Dick. Even he sometimes retreated for a few hours, and Bruce would find him under a heavy blanket, headphones in, happily shutting the world out.

It was one of those times, when everyone was shutting the world out in their own way. As of this morning, all five of his kids were under his roof, and they would be having Christmas Eve dinner all together in about nine hours. Then Christmas Eve patrol, when Nightwing wore colorful string lights and Red Robin wore a Santa hat and Orphan’s humming of Christmas songs was constant on the comms. But for now, in anticipation of spending so much time together and so much energy trying not to kill each other, they were taking a few hours for themselves.

Bruce checked on Cassandra first, found her curled up with a tablet in the library watching what he had to assume was the holiday baking show she’d been watching so much lately. It’s relaxing, she’d told him. Ace sat on her feet, tail thumping against the chair. Cass waved at Bruce, not bothering to take her headphones out, then signed, “Do you need help?” Bruce shook his head, smiled, and waved back before quietly shutting the door and moving on.

Damian was harder to find, but Bruce eventually discovered him perched on a window seat in the study, fast asleep, sketchbook and a handful of pencils in his lap. Bruce smiled at the sketch of the large tree that stood outside the window. Damian had captured the falling snow, and seemed to have started adding a small bird with a tiny scarf before he fell asleep. Bruce gently moved the book and pencils to a table and replaced them with a blanket over Damian, hoping the chill from the window wouldn’t freeze him.

Dick was next, and Bruce didn’t even have to walk far into his bedroom before he heard the shower running and Dick’s voice drifting out of the bathroom with the steam. Bruce listened for a few seconds, thinking wistfully to himself how nice it would be if he actually remembered how to play the piano so he could share in Dick’s love of music. Damian had just started letting Dick teach him how to play the guitar, and Bruce would be lying if he said he wasn’t just the tiniest bit jealous of yet another connection they had that didn’t involve him.

He moved on down the hall to Tim’s room, and got another auditory confirmation of wellbeing in the form of Tim’s bright giggles, and then a, “It’s definitely just ‘moose,’ Bart.” A pause, then, “Well, house rhymes with mouse but it’s houses, not hice, right?” and then, “Kon, shut up,” and then more laughter, which made Bruce’s heart warm. He ignored the fact that the giggles were probably due to Tim’s obvious crush on Superboy, because to acknowledge it would be to acknowledge that yet another son of his had a thing for men who could bench press him. He had lost enough sleep over Dick, and Tim had his own contingency plans. Probably.

Bruce considered stopping his rounds there to avoid agitating his most volatile child. He had seen him just an hour or two ago, and it was unlikely that anything life-shattering had happened in the meantime. But a worried little drive always seemed to win over in situations like this. He couldn’t relax until each bird was accounted for, and after spending so long not getting to check on Jason, it was a privilege he never wanted to pass up. Especially today, given the circumstances.

All five birds in his nest for Christmas...for the first time.

True, each year had brought them a little closer to it, with Jason first sneaking in during the night to drop some mania-driven notes and presents, then the next year coming for an awkward visit during breakfast, and finally this year, a hesitant maybe to Alfred’s invitation. Truthfully, Bruce didn’t think he would come. His visits were slightly more frequent than they used to be, slightly more peaceful, and Bruce knew that he and Dick had a standing monthly dinner date, that he and Tim were steadfast video game partners, and that he genuinely seemed to like Cass and Damian. But when it came to Bruce, everything was still a battle.

He was sort of hoping for a Christmas miracle come dinner time tonight, that maybe they’d get through a whole twenty-four hours without conflict.

The room that had unofficially become Jason’s was empty, as was his childhood bedroom -- expected, since Jason usually wanted nothing to do with it. Bruce would have checked the library next, but he had been in there to see Cass and Jason wasn’t with her. Alfred was unaccompanied in the kitchen, putting a sheet of sugar cookies into the oven, and reported that he hadn’t seen Jason any more recently than Bruce had.

Beginning to worry, Bruce was about to make his way back to the study to check down in the cave when he heard the faintest of sniffles.

Oh no.

He stepped silently backwards until he could pinpoint the noise that was coming from the sitting room. It was quiet, but unmistakably Jason. Bruce could pick out the sound of any of his kids’ tears from a mile away, even if some of them were more apt to let him hear than others. He had to come up with a game plan, though. Dick and Cassandra both liked to be held when they were upset, while Damian usually calmed down with verbal reassurances and Tim was content to have someone sit with him and listen.

When Jason was young, he used to like Bruce to sit and listen to him too. But sometimes when he looked at his son now, it was like looking at a stranger. So different in the ways he talked and moved and felt that Bruce didn’t know how to take care of him, didn’t know how to love him anymore.

But he had to try.

Bruce came around the corner into the sitting room to see Jason sitting, legs crossed, face buried in his hands, under the Christmas tree. There were at least twenty Christmas trees in Wayne Manor, most of them in the front entryway and the ballroom, but those were decorated with big, plain, shining balls. The eight-foot beast in the sitting room was for all the ornaments each of his children had collected over the years, from the very first little elephant he’d given a nine-year-old Dick to Damian’s new tiny tray of teacups. Jason, despite his huge and intimidating stature, looked small beneath it.

“Jason.”

Jason started, lifted his head, and groaned. His voice was brittle and his face was red. “How much would it cost for you to go away?”

“I’m a billionaire.”

Jason huffed, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve, and Bruce stepped further into the room, doing his best to look open and non-threatening. Open palms. Loose arms. Just like Cassandra taught him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nope,” Jason said. Bruce shrugged, and sat down next to him, keeping just a bit of distance between their shoulders. Letting Jason come to him.

Praying Jason came to him.

“It’s not fair,” came Jason’s pitiful whisper after nearly a minute.

Bruce resisted the urge to turn and face him, hoping he’d feel more comfortable this way. “No, it’s not.”

“You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

“It’s probably not fair.”

A startled, choked half-laugh came from Jason, and then a hand was in front of Bruce’s face, uncurling to reveal an ornament. One of the first ornaments he gave Jason, in the shape of a tire.

It had seemed funny at the time.

“I was thirteen, when you got me this,” Jason says, and Bruce nods patiently. “And that was seven years ago. I’m twenty.”

Bruce had a bit of a feeling he knew where this was going, but he nodded again. “Yes, you are.”

“I’ve only been...a-alive, and...sane, for...sixteen years, total.”

Now Bruce did look over, saw Jason shudder and another tear slip down his cheek. “I missed so much. I missed getting my license, and my prom, and my graduation and birthdays and I’m here fucking crying because I missed getting some stupid fucking ornaments.”

Bruce felt his heart sink. “Jay…”

He had nothing else to say. Jason’s lip quivered and his breathing stuttered, tears coming in a slow trickle as he collapsed forward into his hands again. “I’m not twenty yet, Bruce. I can’t be twenty. I can’t be twenty when I was never sixteen or seventeen or--”

“Shh.” Carefully, Bruce laid a hand on his son’s back and rubbed up and down his spine. He wasn’t sure how well a hug would be received yet. But maybe this could be a compromise. “You don’t have to be twenty. You can be sixteen if you want.”

“I can’t be s-sixteen.”

“Why can’t you?”

Jason looked up at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I can’t be younger than Tim.”

That was another thing about Jason. No matter the circumstance, no matter if they were sitting on the floor and Jason was crying, there was no one that could ever make him laugh more.

For a few seconds, Bruce felt horror crawl up his spine as he let out the most inappropriate, uncontrollable laugh he had in years. A rare “bat-guffaw,” as Dick would call it. Jason stared, wide-eyed, shocked into breathing steady again.

And then he laughed too.

Bruce hadn’t really heard Jason laugh since he came back with an adult voice. He’d heard him cackle, heard him mock him, but never laugh earnestly like a child being tickled.

His new laugh was nice. Low and loud and bubbling up through his tears as they both dissolved back into giggles every time they looked at each other. A little bit hysterical. But that suited him, Bruce supposed.

When they finally calmed down, Jason scrubbed at his eyes again, sniffling. “I’m a fucking mess.”

“You should wash your face. I’d...like to take you somewhere, before dinner.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

“The mall, maybe? Somewhere with a Christmas store. I think...I think we have some ornament shopping to catch up on.”

Please be the right thing to say.

Jason grinned.

They picked out five ornaments, in the end. A motorcycle, a little stack of books, the Gotham skyline, a tiny pair of combat boots, and a pair of comedy and tragedy masks.

It wasn’t until they were checking out that Bruce noticed Jason had added a small bat to the pile.

Maybe this would be the first of a new kind of Christmas.

#bcs2018 #batfamchristmasstocking2018 #My writing #batfamily #jason todd #bruce wayne #batfam fanfiction

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