Everything Geeky and Gay

I think I've seen that, so cute

Okay okay okay.....but what about a baby Bruce? Bruce gets deaged, goes from fifty to five, and they're all at a loss for what to do, they lost Alfred years ago now, and don't know what to do, so just tuck him into one of the spare rooms and go downstairs to freak out.

None of them expect it when Bruce trips in, half asleep, and clambers into Jason's lap. Jason is stock still under him, until Bruce blinks up at him. "I'll be quiet, Daddy, promise." Someone chokes, Jason blanches, and Bruce falls back asleep against his chest.

One of the others digs out an old photo of Thomas, and he and Jason look near identical, the skunk stripe the biggest difference between them. When Bruce wakes again, he's still under the impression Jason is his father. Even after they correct him, Bruce latches onto him more than any of the other siblings.

It's a concerted effort to have Bruce turned back, but when they tell him, expecting a laugh, they don't get it. Only a sad smile, and a gentle shrug.

"My father died was he was thirty one, Jason. I've long since surpassed what he looked like."

"Bruce..." he murmurs, and exchanges broken looks with the others.

Bruce leans back, seemingly unbothered, and shrugs again. "It is what it is. I've had my time to make piece with it." He gets up, fetching a drink, then speaks with his back turned. "You know, I've the mistake myself."

"What?"

"Mm. On heavy painkillers, when everything is rather...fuzzed, you look remarkably similar. I woke up to you reading at my bedside, and had to pause for a moment." Bruce leans against the side and sips his water. "I suppose it doesn't help that you share his taste in literature."

"Really?"

"Why not say anything?" Dick asks, leaning in, and Bruce holds up his hands.

"What good would it do? I didn't say anything when Stephanie had that black wig either, or when Damian pierced his ears."

"Why would you?" Steph checks, arms crossed.

"You looked the image of my mother."

"Which is why you got into a spat with the stylist."

Bruce raises a brow. "I did not grow up at my mother's side learning to ins ans outs of the industry just for her to make you look a fool by playing against your complexion."

His eyes slide over to Damian, who brushes his fingers over his decorated lobes. "You look like your mother. But you bear a striking resemblance to my own also, especially in the eyes. That shade of green..."

"The pearls," Damian whispers, and Bruce smiles.

"They look better on you than they did sitting in her jewellry box. You are, of course, welcome to the rest of her collection also."

"Seriously, B-man. Why keep this to yourself?" Steph repeats, and he spreads his hands.

"I saw no need to tell you. My grief is my cross to bear, and I wasn't going to go out of my way to make you uncomfortable."

"Why would we be uncomfortable that we resemble Grandmother and Grandfather?"

Maybe one of those marks appear on first touch type things for the drama.

Imagine a Bruce who actually is happy with his various situation ships. He's never been particularly romantic about soulmates. He's never believed the popular belief that soulmates always meant the perfect relationship.

It was always kind of gross to him that socialites many times his age would eagerly go for the handshake even when he was a little kid. A practice he refused to continue when he was old enough to refuse, damn what the etiquette books say.

In fact, he had worked hard to repeal several antiquated laws that essentially forced the shared guardianship of underage soulmates.

....

Soulmates would probably be rare, but there's social expectations

....

I wasn't really considering a pairing, but I wouldn't go too asshole-ish personally.

It is tempting to have this be pre-established Clois, with everyone being confused as to why Bruce wasn't immediately taking Clark from Lois.

Lois seems like a good candidate for the older soulmate died when she was younger, making her safe for an alien who didn't think he would ever have a soulmate.

Just the pressure from several sources to do the proper thing, take his soulmate, and Bruce rejecting it.

Bruce raises a brow when Alfred steps into the study. "Master Bruce," he greets, a note of excitement in his voice.

"Alfred." Bruce can't help the amused lift to his lips. "I thought I asked not to be disturbed."

"Apologies, sir. Mr Kent and Miss Lane are here." Bruce nods, setting aside his pen. That explains the sentence. Alfred's been practically giddy since the flurry of colours had burst to life across Bruce's abdomen. The momentary disappointment that it wasn't a women Bruce could carry on the Wayne lineage with aside, he'd been extremely vocal on the topic. Bruce is hiding the number to Gotham's best wedding planner like his life depends on it.

Like he has so many lovers that are obsessed with him (Talia, Khoa, Harvey, Selina) and the media would blame the fact that they aren't soulmate over the fact they didn't work when it's way more complicated than that

On Bruce's side we first have people gossiping about him campaigning against the "common sense" laws that prop up the soulmate system. Maybe labeling him as asocial and mentally unwell.

That plus his status as a young single male billionaire makes rumors abound about his unusually rushed adoption of Richard Grayson.

Then when he does find his soulmate, in a very romantic rescue btw, he has the audacity to reject him. That's unheard of at his level of society.

Maybe there's a period where they blame Lois for keeping them apart.

As far as the public is concerned, Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne are soulmates and that's as good as marriage.

Bruce almost marrying Selena? Cheating.

Bruce adopting more kids? They're Clark's kids too.

Some less traditionalist groups might take up Bruce as an example. Look at him. Soulmates aren't this paragon of human existence or sacred duty.

Lois, often standing right next to them, often the third to that fond look, is conveniently cropped out.

Even the JL starts to whisper, seeing how tight knit they are.

Clark pulls back, Lois does too, and Bruce very calmly rings up his assistant and demands a press conference. Clark and Lois are informed when tailored suits are delivered to their door, and a message to be outside for their chauffer in one hour.

Bruce gets himself and Dick ready in the meantime, and Bruce melts at the serious face Dick tries on when Bruce explains what they're doing. It only strengthens his conviction; Dick is all the family he needs, screw having a soulmate.

Clark and Lois' car pulls up and Bruce is there to open the door, faced with two baffled expressions. He ushers them onto the stage set up in the newsroom, and tells them with a smirk to just stand there and look pretty. Clark narrows his eyes when Bruce winks, Lois laughs and catches Dick when he throws the boy at them as well.

The press are allowed in, and Bruce shifts instantly, into the aura of a predator. Addresses recent harassment, claims, and even campaigns pressuring Bruce and Clark to get together. Pulls out a massive tome and flicks through it, stopping partway into the book.

Starts reading out a passage, and the room falls silent from murmurings as they realise what it is.

"—soulmates are entitled to designate themselves a platonic bonded pair, transcending romantic ideals with a fated friendship. This bond is upheld under US and international law, regarding the conservation of the soulmate blessing."

Bruce slams the tome closed, and smiles at the room. Snaps that they will be completing the platonic soulmate ceremony, and appreciate no further insistence that they engage romantically.

He storms offstage, signalling for the others to follow, and they disappear into an adjoining room. "Platonic soulmates?" Lois asks, and Bruce explains the dwindling presence of platonic bonds as it was demonised by governments dealing with declining birth rates.

Clark yanks Bruce into a hug, and it's returned with almost as much enthusiasm. "I'd love to be your soulmate, B," he agrees, and Bruce rolls his eyes, but blushes slightly.

"Shut it, Kansas. But everyone should leave you alone now, and are obligated to after we complete the ceremony."

Whumptober 2025: Day 24 - Denial

Jason accuses Bruce of not caring that he died. Bruce doesn't contradict him, but some of his siblings do.

OK, so I saw this post a while ago and I really wanted to make a prompt out of it, but I could not write it to save my life because it just does not come out the way I’m imagining it.

But I would change it to instead of it being Dick talking to Jason. I think it should be Tim. Because Tim was the one that was there for Bruce more than anybody else. And in my cannon of Tim, he live, laugh, loves being a Wayne. He loves Bruce so much, and will defend his father down.

Anyway, so the prompt is that Jason is once again upset that the Joker is not dead and there’s dialogue that leads up to the phrase “If he loved me, he would’ve killed the Joker” and then Tim comes back with “And if you loved him, you wouldn’t ask him to do that”

And basically just telling Jason that even though he deserves to be avenged, the one guy who is telling you that if he kills, it will cause irreparable damage to his psyche, and he will never be the same person ever again. Should not be the one that has to kill Joker. Does Joker deserve to die? Absolutely, but it can’t be by Bruce’s hand. And then somewhere in there Jason‘s like well obviously he didn’t love me because he replaced me with you immediately, and then Tim is just like..

“And how would you know that? Nobody was here, but me and Alfred. We were the only ones that cared enough to make sure he was still alive so you can even have the arguments that you’re having with him now.” and Tim tells Jason and whoever else is in the vicinity, everything that he’s done to keep Bruce here/alive. Because Dick left and would not come back even though his dad was grieving. Like yes, you lost your brother, but he just lost his son. And on top of that both Barbara and Dick blamed Bruce for Jason dying when it was not his fault. 

And then you know, he tells them the times that he’s kept Bruce from killing himself as Batman and as Bruce. You know just all the angst stuff that Bruce was dealing with, but I don’t want it to be where Bruce hated and was abusive to Tim, because Bruce never hated Tim. He was just drowning in grief. I was thinking more of along the lines of “Depressed mama bear is found by feral child. And even though they are depressed and want to die, they also want to take care of this child. so that’s their baby now.”

I see this era for them as a mutual benefit, Bruce needed somebody to take care of. And Tim needed to be taken care of. But Bruce also needed to be taken care of. I don’t know if I’m explaining this correctly. I hope you can see my vision.

Also, because this is such a huge ask, and would be a huge prompt to pull out of your ass. Feel free to ignore. 🥰 I just thought you’d like it.

(one little thing if I can make one last request no “bad parent Alfred”. 😖🙏🏽 Just because I love Alfred so much. I just see this more as... Even though Alfred cares very deeply for Bruce. He’s not what Bruce needs to be pulled out of his grief.)

Okay I’ll leave you alone now 🤍

Jason goes still, and looks at Tim. "What?"

"I said: if you really loved Bruce, you wouldn't ask him to do that." Tim doesn't look up from his work, tapping away at his tablet. "It's not fair."

"'Not fair?' I was murdered, do you think that's fair?"

"No."

"And you think it's fair that the world just kept spinning afterwards? Nothing changed, nothing happened, like I was never really alive at all?"

Tim sets the tablet down, and Jason matches him glare for glare. How dare this fucking kid—

"No, I don't. It's not fair that you weren't avenged, but it also isn't fair to demand someone does it for you. To force a gun on them and demand they fire it." Tim stands, and something shifts as he approaches Jason. "And don't you dare say that nothing happened."

"Nothing—"

"Bruce died in Ethiopia, Jason." Jason pauses, and Tim pinches the bridge of his nose. "A part of Bruce died when you stopped breathing. You don't get to say nothing happened because it did. The man that raised Dick, that raised you, he's gone. He died when his son did."

Jason looks down. Fists his hands.

"I love Bruce. With my whole, entire heart, and I wouldn't change being his son. But unlike the others, I know what he was like before. I saw the man that raised you, and it is not the same man that took me in."

"You mean right after I died? One hell of a mourning period."

"Dammit, Jay. You don't know what was happening back then. No offence, but you were dead. Bruce was trying his best to end up the same way."

Jason stiffens. Bruce wouldn't... "He seems fine now."

"Mm. You know Bruce is always better when he has someone to look after. His own wellbeing isn't enough of an incentive, it never has been. Someone relying on him is the key." Tim spreads his hands. "Meet someone. I needed someone to look after me. I was breaking out of my boarding school, I was running around the worst parts of the city, I was putting myself in danger worse than I realised in the moment. Bruce needed someone under his wing, and the pieces just fell into place."

"Robin."

Tim crosses his arms, looking away. "I was trying to get Dick to be Robin. Doing it myself was never the plan. But they were in trouble, Alfred handed me the suit, and we tumbled into it from there."

"Dickbird has wanted Robin back ever since it was taken from him. Why—"

"Bruce. That isn't who they were anymore."

"Right."

"Did you know Dick blamed Bruce for your death?"

Jason's eyes shoot up, and Tim gives him a miserable nod. "There's a reason Bruce seems so desnsitised when you lay the blame at his feet. He's been hearing it since you died. Dick, Barbara, his own damn mind."

Tim sits back down, closer to Jason this time. "You don't get to say that nothing changed after you died, Jason. Everything changed. I get that you feel cast aside, and I get that the Joker needs to die. But Bruce cannot be the one to do it, it will kill him. Whoever emerges from the other side of that won't be Bruce."

Jason stays quiet, and Tim takes his hand, looking at him with wet, angry eyes. "I won't let you take my dad from me, Jason."

Like, sometimes when Tim got really hurt, he'd giggle. It was short, and not loud enough to draw attention, but it was definitely there. At times, Jason thought the boy might be a masochist; that was the only explanation.

Another thing is that Tim got weird around the color green. One time, to get back at him, Damian dyed Tim's hair green, and though Tim definitely retaliated, they didn't see him outtisde of patrol for a week. Dick went by his room every night around 9, and if that wasn't a blatant check in, Jason didn't know what was.

The more Jason looked, the more he seemed to notice. Tim's almost unnatural pain tolerance. Tim flinching when a gun went off in an action movie during movie night. Tim counting his fingers after a particularly rough patrol. Tim avoiding responding to calls near Arkham unless there was absolutely nobody else.

Jason wasn't really concerned about it – they all have traumas and hang ups, what else is new – until he saw Bruce's reaction to Tim calling him "Daddy." Tim had been reading case files during breakfast, and hadn't moved to send them upstairs despite Bruce's nudging. After they were done, Bruce told Tim to move it to the Cave, earning a "Yes, Daddy."

Jason almost couldn't breathe from excitement, he had been so ready to tease Tim mercilessly. The only thing that stopped him was the look of pain in Bruce's face. A quick flash, short and so unguarded, easily lost if you weren't Jason.

Tim stood frozen in place, not a single muscle so much as twitching in his face, which had lost all color. Bruce gets up immediately, taking hold of Tim's hand the way one would a child.

"Let's go," he said softly, leading them into the Batcave without so much as a word to Jason.

Jason is shocked. He immediately goes to find Dick, telling him to spill what was wrong with Tim. Dick is confused, Jason lists out his observations, and Dick gets more serious as he listens.

Dick sighs deeply and asks him to sit down.

The warehouse began to collapse around Jason, lone pieces of cement flying down. "f#$%" Jason murmured. BANG! another mini bomb went off, not strong enough to kill but with enough force to make the building shudder. How many bombs did they plant? And more importantly how many more attacks could the warehouse take before it all came crashing down. Dust clouded Jason's eyes and breath; he quickly slid on his rebreather. Jason was almost at the exit, which was luckily unblocked. "Oracle, are all the civilians evacuated?"

"Yes" she replied. Jason began to head towards the door when she continued, "But Red Robin is still inside" She hesitated for a single moment, her voice quivered just slightly "Can you get him?"

"Sure thing" he answered coolly.

He turned around and went back into the warzone that was the crumbling warehouse. "RR?" he shouted, looking around for Tim although with all the dust it was a little hard to see. He ventured further into the warehouse shouting out the young vigilante's name. The building was unsteady before the bombs but now all it would take was one misplaced breath for the whole thing to topple over. Jason inhaled, pushing down his fear. He had to focus, he needed to find his brother. "Redd Robinn, where are you?" No answer. He tried not to assume the worst. "Red?" he asked to the building.

"Hood! Get out of there!" Bruce's voice came in over the comms, urgent and slightly panicked.

"I can't" Jason started as he continued to move, "I'm trying to find your son, Red's still inside and he hasn't responded to comms."

"I—" Bruce's voice was cut off. Looks like Jason's comms must have finally cut out. He was almost in the middle of the warehouse when the dust cleared, and he could make out the silhouette of a young man - Tim. He was kneeling down as if the piece of ground he was staring at intently was extremely interesting. The younger boy looked towards Jason for a split second, noticed him, his mouth opened as if to form the word 'Jason?'. BOOM! Another mini bomb went off, this time from almost exactly above Tim. "TIM!" he yelled, ignoring Bruce’s dumb no-names-in-the-mask rule.

Tim fell to the ground buried in falling cement. Jason made it to Tim's side, attempting to lift a large piece of rubble off him. A chill ran down Jason's spine but he wasn't sure why.

"hehehheehhe" someone was giggling? Jason must have imagined it. But the soft chuckle kept going. Once Jason had dug his brother out of the cement pieces, he slung him over his back and made a sprint for the exit. As he ran, he swiftly dodged falling rubble. If the building wasn't crumbling before, it was now. Fire and smoke blended with the dust, but Jason could just barely see the exit in the distance. He made it to the door just in time. It was wide open and he ran out.

Once Jason had made it a safe distance away from the collapsing warehouse, he himself collapsed on the ground. He panted and laid Tim down. He looked up to see Duke and Cass holding Bruce back as he tried to run into the building. He heard a kid's faint shout, then Damian came running to their aid. The soft giggle he had heard earlier had become slightly louder. It sounded as if it was coming from right next to him. The hairs on his neck stuck up. The laugh was familiar, too familiar.

He looked down at Tim to find him laughing in... amusement? In between moans of pain he laughed. Even as he was loaded into the Batmobile, even as he was hauled to the cave he kept giggling.

When Tim was safely in the med bay, Jason saw Dick and Bruce exchange a look that he wasn't quite sure what it meant. He hated that. Not knowing. He hated the fact that Tim, Dick, and Bruce knew things about each other that Jason would never understand. He wished he knew-

"Jason?" Jason was snatched from his thoughts by the sound of Bruce's tired voice, "How about you stay here for tonight? Would that be ok? I mean it's far too late for you to return-"

Jason cut Bruce off, he was practically talking to himself now "Yeah, whatever B, I'll stay."

"I'm glad you're ok." Bruce whispered softly as Jason turned away. Jason grinned "Same here old man"

Bruce smiled at Jason then headed over to Tim.

As Jason laid in bed, he tried to think of where he had heard that laugh Tim had produced. Joker. My god, his voice, that chuckle, it sounded just like the Joker's. Coincidence, it must be, how else could that laugh be explained. He tried to clear his head of thoughts of the Joker.

More importantly, why did Tim laugh? He was in intense pain, he was bleeding for God's sake?! Was Tim a masochist? Yes that must be it, there is no other explanation for why he laughed.

Jason sighed softly. It was late. He could figure it out tomorrow

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

Since that day at the warehouse, Jason couldn't help but notice other things Tim did. 1 or 2 months after the incident at the warehouse, Tim and Daimian got into a really intense prank battle. It was heated, really heated. One night to get back at him for putting an alarm into his room that sounded all night, Daimian decided to put green hair dye into Tim's shampoo. And sure enough after Tim's next shower his hair was bright green.

Jason had seen Tim that night, he saw him in the hallway breathing really fast, eyes wide. Jason was so confused. When he saw Jason looking at him, Tim ran down the stairs as fast as he could. Jason, followed, of course. Tim had ran and found Bruce. Jason at first thought that he was tattling, but when Bruce saw him his eyes widened as well. Tim let a few stray tears fall. They hugged for a long time in silence and Bruce made a call. That was weird enough. But even weirder, the next day Dick came all the way from Blüdhaven and stayed for a week! Tim retaliated against Daimian, a complicated prank involving a fake dog, but he also didn't go out on patrol for the whole week. Even after his hair was dyed back to black. That week Dick went to Tim's room every night around 9. It was a blatant check in.

One night, Jason decided to eavesdrop on one of their little check ins. He peaked through the door and saw? He didn't quite know. Dick and Tim sitting on Tim's bed. Tim curled up with Dick stroking his hair in the calming way Dick always does when someone's upset. He heard a little snippet of their conversation.

"Hey bug, you aren't his anymore"

"I-" Tim sniffles "I know"

Dick pulls him closer "Do the thing, it'll help I swear... just don't leave me" he pauses "don't go back there"

"Ok I'll do it, it's stupid though"

"It helps!"

"Fine. My name is Tim Drake, my biological parents are Janet and Jack Drake, my adoptive dad is Bruce Wayne."

"Did it help?"

Tim looked away, "A little" the younger brother rolled his eyes.

"Told you, keep going!" Dick laughed, "Huh? the doors open". Dick got up from the bed and headed towards to the door to investigate.

Jason sprinted away from the door. He had a feeling his brothers wouldn't appreciate him eavesdropping on what seemed to be a personal conversation. About... something? When Jason had safely made it to his room, he allowed his mind to wander to the two boys conversation 'Don't go back there' Dick had said, go back where? And who was the 'him' they were talking about? What happened to Tim? He had so many questions. And What did all this have to do with green hair?

Jason decided to stay at the manor for a bit instead of his safehouse - to investigate, no other reason. The more Jason paid attention, the more he saw. Within the month, Jason noticed many other odd things Tim did.

Tim's almost inhuman pain tolerance. Jason and Tim were taking down a small drug ring. Easy job. But they had faster reflexes than the two boys had expected. They got 2 bullets in Tim. He was bleeding out and he just shrugged it off. Jason was practically ready to rip those scum bags apart for hurting his brother when Tim said:

"It doesn't even hurt, chill Jay"

And he wasn't even saying it for Jason's benefit. He seemed fine. It was... weird.

One night Tim and Jason were the only ones left in the manor, so they decided to watch some dumb action movie they'd watched a million times. During an action scene a loud gun shot went off, Tim flinched hard. A couple tears slipped out. Tim pretended it didn't happen so Jason did too.

Another thing Tim did is that he would always count his fingers after rough patrols. Jason was at a loss as to why.

Also, he barely ever laughed, like really laughed. It was always his practiced elite laugh, the high delicate one that he always used at galas. The more Jason thought about it, that day at the warehouse was the only time Jason had ever heard his younger brother really laugh.

But it was nothing to be worried about - they all had their tramua, Tim was no different, right?

--------------------------------1 week later -----------------------------------

Jason, Tim, Dick and Daimian were all having breakfast. Tim, as per usual, was reviewing case files from last night. Can the boy ever take a break?

"Come on Tim, move it to the cave"

"Yes Daddy" Tim responded.

Jason eyes widened in happiness; he was struggling to breathe from excitement. He was going to tease Tim mercilessly about this. But he stopped himself. Bruce had a pained look on his face, a hurt expression. It was short over before it started, if you didn't know Bruce as well as Jason did you would miss it. That unguarded stare of pain... and fear?

Tim's face went pale. He froze, not daring to move a single muscle. His eyes widened. Bruce stood abruptly, and taking hold of Tim's hand to lead him away the way one would do with a small child.

"Let's go sweetie" Bruce half-whispered gently. Like Tim would break if he talked too loud. Which from both of their reactions to the simple word 'Daddy' he might. He led Tim down to the Batcave. What was going on? Dick knew what was going on, Jason was sure of it. After Jason finished his breakfast, he went to find him, luckily Dick was still staying in the manor, just up in his room because he wasn't hungry. Jason didn't bother to knock on the closed the door. He never knocks anyways. He pulled open the door, and stood at his full height staring Dick down, the latter was sitting on his bed reading.

"What is going on with Tim?"

"Noth-"

"Don't deflect, I know you know, tell me I just want to help" He was sort of panicked he needed to know what was happening, but forced himself to take a strained breath "Please?"

"I- ok, sit down" Dick patted the space on his bed next to him.

Jason obliged and sat down.

"A long time ago, when Tim was about 15, he-" Dick took a breath, Jason was on the edge of his seat, "he was kidnapped, by the Joker"

Jason opened his mouth to speak but Dick cut him off.

"Just, let me finish" Jason nodded in response.

"Joker and Harley, they took him to an abandoned Arkam wing and he - he tried to break Tim - physiologically, he used manipulation, torture, electricity and experiments involving some - chemical to try to force him to be someone else, when Tim tried to fight back or to reject what the Joker told him to do, he would tor - torture him" Dick was close to tears as he continued "We looked everywhere, but we - we couldn't find him. After he conditioned Tim, he started calling him 'Joker Junior' and he forced him to commit crimes and fight us. It was a - a bad time..."

"I'm going to kill him." Jason's voice shook as he spat out the words "He did that to Tim. I thought I was the only one he-"

Dick pulled Jason closer to him tears dripping down the older boy's face, "He's better now, but sometimes - he slips into old habits."

"That's why he reacted that way when Daimian dyed his hair, the Joker dyed his hair green when he was JJ, he manipulated Tim into forgetting who his real parents were and making him think Joker was his dad"

"I- I didn't know"

"You do now" Dick said stroking Jason's hair.

"I want to murder him, I want to make it hurt" he murmured.

"Tim's made it clear he doesn't want any killing on his behalf," Dick explained "But... I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you broke a couple of his bones?"

Jason chuckled manically, "I'm sure he wouldn't". The vigilante cracked his knuckles silently planning all the ways he would make the Joker pay for what he did to his brother.

Dick: Wait- Tim what do I say?

Tim: (indecipherable murmuring)

Dick: I'm Dick, my parents died in front of me when I was 8 years old. I brought the m & m's *Pours m & m's in the bowl*

Tim: I'm Tim, I was neglected and unsupervised my entire life. I brought sour patch kids. *Pours sour patch kids in the bowl*

Jason: *holding up a large bag of skittles and cackling evilly*

Jason: I'm Jason, I was sold out by my mother to the Joker, who then proceeded to brutally torture, explode, and kill me. I brought skittles! *Pours an unholy amount of skittles in the bowl*

Duke: I'm Duke, my parents were infected with Joker Toxin and are now incapacitated. I brought reese's cups. *Pours reese's cups into the bowl*

Cass: Hi, I'm Cass and I was isolated by my tempermental, manipulative love-bombing father so bad I didn't even get to learn how to speak until I was a teenager

Dick: Wait- Tim what do I say?

Tim: (indecipherable murmuring)

Dick: I'm Dick, my parents died in front of me when I was 8 years old. I brought the m & m's *Pours m & m's in the bowl*

Tim: I'm Tim, I was neglected and unsupervised my entire life. I brought sour patch kids. *Pours sour patch kids in the bowl*

Jason: *holding up a large bag of skittles and cackling evilly*

Jason: I'm Jason, I was sold out by my mother to the Joker, who then proceeded to brutally torture, explode, and kill me. I brought skittles! *Pours an unholy amount of skittles in the bowl*

Duke: I'm Duke, my parents were infected with Joker Toxin and are now incapacitated. I brought reese's cups. *Pours reese's cups into the bowl*

Dick: Wait- Tim what do I say?

Tim: (indecipherable murmuring)

Dick: I'm Dick, my parents died in front of me when I was 8 years old. I brought the m & m's *Pours m & m's in the bowl*

Tim: I'm Tim, I was neglected and unsupervised my entire life. I brought sour patch kids. *Pours sour patch kids in the bowl*

Jason: *holding up a large bag of skittles and cackling evilly*

Jason: I'm Jason, I was sold out by my mother to the Joker, who then proceeded to brutally torture, explode, and kill me. I brought skittles! *Pours an unholy amount of skittles in the bowl*

Duke: I'm Duke, my parents were infected with Joker Toxin and are now incapacitated. I brought reese's cups. *Pours reese's cups into the bowl*

Also imagine if Talia or Khoa even Zantanna someone he practically grew up with miss his genuine crazy laugh and believe that Joker tried to model his iconic laugh after child Bruce to ruin Bruce’s reputation in the early days

You are just plucking the ideas right out of my head.

They are the only ones to hear his laugh before he locks it away. Before the Joker comes, a dark, twisted mirror of himself in so many ways, stealing something so intrinsic from him, that he cannot bear to hear his own laugh. He cannot bear to scare his own ward.

Maybe an old video resurfaces, of a young Brucie Wayne at a gala, head thrown back, mouth stretched in a smile as he cackles at some joke unheard by the camera.

Yeah this I can work with

Martha brushes her hands over her pristine skirt, a nervous tick Thomas always teased her for. Oh Tommy, he'll be so jealous she was the one to get this opportunity and not him. They'd talked about this before, what they would do if they ever got to talk to her again, if they would want to disrupt her life like that, but... Martha knows her daughter needs some kind words right now, needs a very specific disruption to her life, and she cannot bear the idea of just letting this chance pass by without at least trying to help.

"Your son will be here in just a moment," Bruce's friend says, Clark, and Martha drags up her polite society smile for him, using all her years of being raised in high society to not react. Bruce kept her secret very locked down after all, even little Dick only found out a few months ago, there is no way for even Superman to know the truth.

He smiles back nonetheless, and when his head snaps to the door she knows it is time. Bruce steps in, and goes perfectly still in the doorway, eyes fixed on her. "You said you can make me corporeal?" Martha asks over her shoulder to the wizard that was called to banish her before they realised who she was.

"Yes, ma'am," Mr Constantine agrees, and she feels a zing of electricity bolt through her. Clark gived her an amused smile when she pokes him, testing it, and she gently clasps her hands, bringing forth the long dormant authority she used to carry easily.

"I would like to be alone with my—son," she says, tripping over her words, tripping over what they think they know, and gets a dozen accommodating smiles as everyone files out of the room.

Bruce closes the door shakily, flicking the lock, and looks at her with something akin to fear, which just breaks her heart. To be looked at like a stranger by the woman she lives with her whole being.

"Mother," she greets, head held high.

"Bruce," she sighs, reaching out to cup her cheek. "My beautiful little girl."

Bruce jerks in surprise, but Martha is already pulling her into a hug, holding her close, and soaking up her first chance to hold her little girl since that godforsaken alley.

"Mama—" Bruce chokes, trying to pull back, and Martha reluctantly lets her go. "H-how—"

"The afterlife is a peculiar place, honey. But I promise you that your father and I have been watching over you this whole time, and we could not be prouder of the woman you have grown into."

Bruce flinches where her face is trapped between Martha's palms, eyes flicking to the door, like she's expecting that godforsaken butler to burst in at any moment. "N-no. I'm not—"

"If you truly think that, then I will call you my son," Martha assures. "But if, at your core, you are a woman, then I promise you, no matter what you were told, your father and I have no issue in accepting that. You are my beautiful child, no matter what. I love you, no matter what. No matter what anyone tells you, or what those bad thoughts you have say, I love you, I accept you, and nothing will change that. You are my child."

Bruce's chin wobbles, tears spilling over those pale cheeks, and she sniffs. "Mama," she sobs, breaking, and throws herself into Martha's arms. Her daughter may be twice her size, but she still catches her, holding her close. "I thought—"

"I know, love. I know, but you were wrong. There is no world in which I turned you away."

Martha thinks of the women she knew, back when city records were all on paper, before all the technology, when a man would disappear from society, and a woman of similar stature and disposition would turn up not long after. When you were hard to keep track of anyway, so it was all too easy to remake yourself into who you were meant to be.

She wonders what would have happened to Bruce if she knew the women Martha did. If she knew Martha as more than a memory, or a portrait above the fireplace.

She isn't sure how long she holds her daughter, the dress she's spent thirty years wearing wetting under Bruce's tears, Bruce's hairs curling as they do when wet as Martha's own tears slip down to disappear among the locks reminiscent of the ones on her own head.

But eventually Bruce pulls back, face red and puffy, and Martha laughs softly, wiping away the wetness on her cheeks, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Come. The first lesson a mother teaches her daughter is how to look presentable."

Bruce laughs incredulously and lets Martha pull her out of the room, taking the lead to show her into one of the powder rooms, and Martha takes over again, splashing both of their faces with cool water and pulling out all her tricks until it doesn't look like the two of them have been bawling together. Bruce watches quietly the whole time, nodding along, a faint, treasured smile on her face as she looks softly after Martha's each moment.

She wishes she had longer with her.

This will have to do.

She will have to make the most of it, in every sense.

"Do you feel ready, my dear?"

Bruce's eyes lift to hers. "For now..."

"I will keep your secret. It is not mine to tell. And do not rush. Wait until you are ready." Bruce nods. "But...if I may..." Another nod. "Richard has already discovered the truth. And he worries for you. Tommy likes to spy, he says that Richard has been agonising over this on your behalf. If I may suggest that you trust in him in the meantime, I believe you would both profit from it."

Bruce nods, serious. "I will bear that in mind, Mother."

"Good." She pats her cheek. "Then let us go and greet everyone. If I have gathered anything from watching your life, it is that your circle is nothing if not nosy."

Bruce's laugh warms her heart that only temporarily beats, and the two of them exit the powder room hand in hand. Bruce leads her to a room and rests her palm on the handle, hesitating. Then she pushes it down, and they walk in together. Smiles turn to them, and Martha's eyes flick over the room.

She spots Clark, and knows again that he has a habit his mother never managed to fully train him out of, his habit of eavesdropping when he's worried. Sure enough, there is a careful mask on his face, but he knows. Her eyes dart to Kon-El next, and is not surprised to find him next to Timothy, is not surprised to see an identical look on his face, for her grandson has a worse habit of asking Kon to eavesdrop for him when he is worried. Timothy seems unaware, so she breathes easy. Three out of several dozen is not too bad. It could have been worse.

She trails her eyes over the rest of the room, taking in friends, heroes, family, her grandchildren, and:

"Alfred!" She calls, allowing her hand to fall from Bruce's as she starts forward. Her jovial tone brings a smile to the old man's face, and he steps forward.

"Mrs Wayne, a pleasure to see you again."

"Oh I have so much to say to you," she gushes, and hears Bruce's noise of alarm behind her. Which is fair. She always could tell sooner than Tommy or anyone else when Martha was going to cause a scene.

"Oh?" Alfred asks, still smiling, and she nods eagerly.

Not long ago, Wally had come in with the diplomacy gifts from the Xanathe, the impartial alien race hosting the negotiations on their planet. They'd arrived earlier, and went straight to one of the labs to be scanned for any dangerous materials. "They're not dangerous!" Wally had announced, to everyone's relief, and the gifts were handed out.

Today might be a high-pressure event, and Oliver knows he's not the only one dreading the prospect of something going wrong, which is why they're prepping so exactly. Even still, preparations slow for a moment, everyone wanting to see what the gifts are. Oliver catches Wally's eye and gives him a questioning look, but the little brat just grins and shakes his head.

can we have some wholesome or angsty, up to you possessive son dick grayson

It has been a long week.

I love my family, I love my family, I love my—

"I'm the obvious choice."

He hates his family.

Dick pinches the bridge of his nose, blowing out a slowwwwwww breath. He can do this. He's sat through this debate dozens of times. He's partipated in good humour! He can do it again. He can entertain their ridiculous notions again.

Yeah.

He can do this.

"Fool, Timothy. I am Father's best partner."

He's going to kill his family.

Jason leans back in his chair. "I wouldn't know about that, kiddo. Before I died Bruce and I were one hell of a team."

Tim scoffs, Damian laughs, and Dick bullies down the rising anger in his chest. It's a harmless debate. There is no need to go nuclear.

"We best. I know him." I know him better.

"Come onnn, Cass," Duke drawls. "You want to get involved in this dick measuring contest?"

She smirks. "Mine's bigger."

Steph snorts, tipping to the side as she's wracked with laughter, and objections explode from Dick's brothers, scandalised voices layering over each other.

"AN-Y-WAY," Duke forces, bringing the room back down. "What if I threw my hat into the ring? I mean, B's practically obsessed with me. Imagine what it'd be like if I was a Robin?"

"Excuse you. Batgirls are great partners too." Barbara crosses her arms. "Not to mention, Batman is nothing without Oracle."

The shouting starts back up again, Steph joining in with an awfully amused, half-assed attempt at mediation, and Dick decides it's best if he left.

He doesn't quite make it to the door.

"Come on, Dick, what say you?" He doesn't get the objection to object, as the pressure layers and layers with half a dozen voices, until what he didn't want to happen finally happens, and he snaps.

"You think any of you are Bruce's best partner?" He laughs. "Compared to me? I redirected the entire course of Bruce's life. I redefined who he was at his core. I introduced the idea of partnership to a man determined to bleed out alone in an alley he didn't thirteen years before. Without me, Batman would be nothing more than a rumour of two blessed yars with less crime, before that perculiar murder case of the man in such a strange suit, and Gotham became even worse as it is wont to do.

"I was eight and fighting alongside Batman against gods, monsters, Rogues, on the same level as the Justice League. I was the first sidekick, the mould for every one since was taken from me, the human that paved the way for metas, mutants, and aliens under Bruce's wing.

"You think you can claim to be Bruce's best partner? No. You think you can claim to be his best Robin?" He chuckles again. "Robin is mine. Robin did not come from the Wayne house, it came from the Grayson's tent. You can wear the suit, you can redefine what being Robin means for you, you can bear the name, but you will never be me. You will never be the child that swore an oath to protect this city in the bowels of the city, and took to the streets by Bruce's side.

"He taught me everything he knows. You will never learn all of that, because it is inhumane, it pushes you to the very limits of what the human spirit can endure, and he will not let you. But I know all of it, we match down to our core, we are one when we descend upon Gotham. Bruce does not lead the Justice League, yet he had designated me as its future leader, and that has been cemented by its leaders because they know who I am. They know I am Robin, I am Nightwing, I am the product of Bruce's best efforts, I carry his legacy as I forge my own, and I will lead the greatest culmination of heroes our world has ever seen because of who he has moulded me into. I am Bruce's best partner."

The room is silent when he finally stops, and he casts a look across the room, taking in their shocked faces, and spins of his heel, stalking out of the room.

For dramatic emphasis, the universe perfectly times the door falling closed, the heavy oak slam punctuating his exit.

"Dick."

He startles, finding Bruce sat on a chaise just outside the door. "You were listening to the debate."

Bruce's lips tilt up. "I make a habit of it. They're very revealing." His analytical eyes pin Dick in place. "Some more than others."

Dick refuses to apologise, and bares teeth in a tight smile. "Did I say anything wrong?" He steps forward, and Bruce stands to meet him, face giving nothing away. "I came first. I came out best. I am your greatest pride, you have said so yourself. I love my siblings, Bruce, and you can take in as many as you want, it does not matter, it won't change that I had you first. It was me and you for ten years. You are my dad. You are mine."

Bruce's brows pull in, and Dick stubbornly doesn't lean into the grazing touch cupping his jaw. Deep, blue eyes bore into his own, and he lays his conviction bare.

Bruce leans in, and presses his lips to Dick's temple. "You have had a very long week in Blüdhaven. You would keep this all locked up very tightly if you weren't on your last straw." Dick grumbles, wordless, and an arm slides over his shoulder. "We'll hog the cinema room, alright? Give your siblings time to cool off."

Bruce starts walking, and Dick turns into him, picked up instantly because Bruce knows him just as well as Dick knows him. "It's alright, sweetheart."

Dick buries his face in his shoulder, and feels the adrenaline of his shouting crash as he's finally safe, held close and bobbing softly with Bruce's every step.

The meeting room goes still as a choked noise comes from Batman. Superman freezes, hand midair, the red laser in his hand flickering out at his hesitation.

Everyone stares as Batman tears off the cowl, and buries his face in his hands. "I can't keep doing this. It's too— it's too much."

Diana reaches across the table. "Batman, we can delegate your duties to someone else on the mission if you need to take a break." Her hand is slapped away, and Batman stands, storming away from the table.

"And what about everything else? I haven't slept in four days! I have had two full meals in that time, because I've either been called away before I could have a bite, or one of the brats that live in my house would come and take my food! Most of them don't even live at home anymore!"

Dick slaps Wally's arm when he gets a glare, a flush rising on his cheeks. "Shut up," he mutters.

"I'm always being torn between Arkham or space, and none you will give me a second to breathe. If I'm not on patrol I'm running an international conglomerate, or training heroes, or offering tech support, or going to school events and recitals and being a chauffer, or..." Batman tears at his hair. "I'm so TIRED."

"Bruce—"

"I'm not Bruce! Bruce is missing, stuck in my body somewhere, and I can't find him to give him his damn life back. I thought— I thought I could kill you all from the inside, but just keeping up the façade of being Bruce Wayne is taking up all my time and I can't even try to kill anyone."

The entire room stares.

Then the door opens, and Tim smirks at them all. "One week exactly. Pay up."

Clark slams the laser pointer down. "You cheated!"

"Did not."

Hal stands, with Clark. "You and your siblings stealing his food! Fucking cheaters, making it harder for him."

"We won the bet on when he'd cave! Pay. Up."

Victor runs a hand over his face as the room descends into arguing. "Someone still needs to go and get the real Bruce from containment so we can swap them back," he reminds everyone.

Anyways... Somehow, he finds himself turned back in time. But, instead of adopting all of them again.

He didn't.

He changed the course of their fate by calling Superman to save Richard and his parents. Hunting Sheila and getting the help she needs, thus preventing Jason from stealing his tires. Befriending Drake's and slowly steered their parenting skills (He didn't think he was a good parent either. Why would the kids hate him so much, if he did.) and swooping down to save them from their deaths. Letting Barbara and her father adopt Cassandra. And saving Duke's parents from Joker.

The only left was Damian. He infiltrates the LoA and takes him. He nearly gave him up but had a second thought and decided against it. He raised Damian as his only son.

But then, he found a mate (if this is an Omegaverse. This can be a Superbat as well. Dunno) have a child with the said mate and took this as a second chance to become a great parent.

But, the former Wayne kids someday opened their eyes and remembered their former life. Heartbroken, they saw how happy Bruce and Damian were with their new Family.

I don't know if I should let them reconcile? Or leave the angsty - angst.

Pps. I'm the one who wrote the hand movement and eye movement thingy. Thank you for being nice.

Anon baby you are breaking my heart why would I not be nice?

- i lowk want endgame brutalia but you said superbat, so

"He looks happy," Dick murmurs, closing his eyes and turning away. Jason puts a hand on his shoulder, leaning into the touch to take comfort from it himself. Catherine got shunted into rehab years ago, Willis got a job at Wayne Enterprises, and he grew up in a stable home. He doesn't have quite the same bulk as before, even if he took after Willis' large frame. Blue eyes water as he too turns away from the manor.

Tim plucks the binoculars from Dick's slack grip, and steps up next to Cass, peering through the gates to the manor.

Damian, only ten, and so much more a child than he was the first time around, howls with laughter between Bruce and Clark, standing on Bruce's shoulders to duel Clark as he walks upside down on the ceiling, their wooden swords coming together over and over. Smiles abound, and it makes a weight settle in the stomachs of their spectators.

Their spectators that three weeks ago, regained memories of the previous timeline, before Bruce was sent back, before it diverged, before their dad decided not to be their dad anymore.

"Why are we here?" Cass asks, turning her back on the manor. "He doesn't want us anymore."

Dick stands abruptly, and Haley's Circus' best aerialist clears the tall fence in one bound, and stalks off down the driveway.

None of them are vigilantes, in this life.

All of them find a way over that fence.

Dick pounds his fist on the door, and the laughter drifting out the open windows ceases. The lock clicks. The door creaks.

Clark Kent stands in the foyer of his home, and the smile drops from his face. In a flash, they're all back outside the gates, which he's easing closed behind them.

"Supes--"

"No, Timothy," Clark says. There is no familiarity in his voice. "Bruce tried so hard to keep you away from him in this life. Please. He-- He tried so hard to give you the lives you deserve, please don't tell me it failed."

"Three weeks ago," Jason explains tersely. "We got our memories from the last life. We're not sure why."

"CLARK!"

Clark flinches, and twitches in place. "Why are you here?"

"He's our father," Jason growls. Clark pinches his nose.

"But he's not. He made sure of that. And you guys-- you being here, he'll think he failed. He won't be able to cope with failing you all again."

"He didn't fail us the first time!" There is no love lost between this Dick Grayson, and this Superman. Uncle Supes is a ghost of a memory. "He is ours."

"He is my husband," Clark counters. "And he has spent his whole life devoted to you kids. Please don't make it in vain."

"CLARK!"

Closer.

Bruce is coming.

"PAPA!"

"Damian," Cass breathes.

Clark flinches again, but stays steadfast.

"Does he know about us?" Tim whispers, gazing towards the manor.

Clark nods. "Bruce... he couldn't keep you a secret. He didn't try. Damian has met you all, over time. He wanted to see what you were like."

"Please, Clark. He's our brother."

Clark wavers. "He never wanted this. He wanted...from afar. To be unknown."

"He's our father."

Clark strokes a hand over his face. "Not here! That was the whole point! You remember, right? So you remember cursing at him, and pushing him away, and telling him he wasn't your father! He listened, like you begged him to, and stopped. He did what you wanted, and now I am begging you." Clark swallows. "I am begging you kids. Please don't make him think that he failed you all over again."

"Clark!" Bruce yells again. More cautious, and Cass watches a glimpse of his silhouette through the trees, carefully advancing. "Honey?" A smaller figure stalks through the underbrush, approaching from the other side, and Dick can't take his eyes off it.

"Please."

This is their chance. If they race for the bend in the lane now, Bruce and Damian won't see them.

But...

Can they give this up?

@loudlypanickinginvenezuelan no. 23 xx

"Hey, Rob!"

Tim lifts his head, and Bart gestures to him. He sets down his dumbells and starts across the room.

"Do you know what Protocol 23 is?"

"Protcol 23: Justice League members may not take off at super speed, flight, or jumps within proximity to other members of their team. Exemptions are allowed for Kryptonians, Amazons, and other team members on a case-by-case basis, but doing so will result in investigation for mal intent, and suspension—"

Cassie holds up a hand. "Why do you know it word for— that's not the point. We're not talking about that. Look at this."

She gestures him to the monitors, and he leans over Bart's shoulder to look, the others filling in around them.

Bart clicks play, and Tim grins. "Ooo, baby Batman. That's one of his first suits."

"Yeah, but look at the file name." Cissie reaches past him, rapping her nail on the screen, and he hums. "Protocol 23."

Bruce fights back-to-back with Clark on screen, and Tim leans on the chair Bart is tucked into, arms crossed. "You interrupted my workout to watch B fight? You know I can do that every night if I wanted to, right?"

"Shut up." Kon shoves his shoulder, and they share a childish grin.

There's a sonic boom over the sounds of fighting, quickly followed by a familiar grunt. Clark can be seen in the background, holding off a swarm, while Bruce wavers and drops to his knees.

Blood seeps past the edges of his cowl, and Tim clenches his fingers so hard the leather upholstery creaks under his grip, watching B fall further, onto his elbows, head bowed. The footage is blocked as Diana comes into view, rushing to Bruce's side, and the scene swaps.

"Where did you find this?" he growls, watching Barry do the same to him. Clark, again. Barry again.

"I was bored," Kon explains, looking at him worriedly. "We were...we ended up pretty deep into the Watchtower's database." He leans over Bart, taking the mouse, and clicks out.

To rows and rows of files for JL protocols.

23 is the first. Which makes sense, one through twenty-two are regarding JL processes, then— Protocol 23 is where they start looking at preventing injury.

Kon clicks on 24.

All enhanced Justice League members must undergo training on handling extraction to prevent further injury to casualties.

Tim's vision goes red as he watches Bruce bite back a scream as Arthur lifts him too brashly, and his arm visibly dislocates. That shoulder still gives him trouble to this day.

https://www.tumblr.com/ughtyrell/818330838409297920/a-scenario-where-everyone-expects-damian-to-side?source=share

Post -- also

"We're leaving the manor for a while, B. We can't keep doing this."

The words ring in Damian's ears. He'd frozen, heart pounding, realising his siblings were leaving him. They'd promised they were family, and now they were leaving him. And then there was a hand on his shoulder, Richard was guiding him out, and his blood ran cold. They weren't leaving him. They intended to make him leave.

And he'd numbly followed, the revelation making his footsteps drag, until they'd stopped in the foyer, next to a pile of suitcases, and Damian had choked, seeing his own among them. The presumptions, the expectations, the demands, they made a fury build in Damian, growing, roiling, hissing, until it finally clawed its way out of him as they negotiated where they would all be staying.

That Timothy would reside with Todd as a temporary measure while his own home was under repairs, though neither of them seemed particularly enthused. That Cassandra would move to live with Barbara. That:

"Damian'll come with me, course."

Damian carefully, deliberately, took a step back, forcing Richard's hand to slip off his shoulder. "No," he says, coldly. "I will not."

They all frown at him. "Where you planning on sleeping then, pipsqueak?"

He doesn't scowl at Todd, but the force of his glare does make his 'brother' do a double take. "In my room. In my home. I am staying with Father."

Richard turns to face him properly, disbelief colouring his face. "Damian—"

"You are not my father, Richard."

More reactions. Raised brows, parted lips. Richard chuckles, and smiles. "I know, Dami. But—"

"Do you? I am no fool, I know you have all made presumptions based on the six months Father was lost in time, but I will take care to remember it is he who I call by that title, not you. He is the one with the right to dictate my life without consulting me, though he would not, unlike you, who did not even inform me you were planning to take me from my home."

The foyer is silent. Damian walks to the pile, and extracts his suitcases. He hears steps before the voice comes, cracking slightly:

"Damian, please do—"

"No, Richard!" He whips around, loosening the reins on his mounting rage. "Your reasons for leaving Father are superficial. They do not show his tedium, they show your weakness! Too weak to love someone because it isn't easy."

Richard falters. Seemingly so do the rest of his siblings. Damian continues, his tongue a sharpened knife, his words barbed.

"I know Father does not love 'right'. I know he expresses himself incorrectly, and that it hurts sometimes, to love him, but what does that matter, when I know how much he loves me?" Damian blinks back tears. "When I heard Pennyworth express how blessed we are that I did not inherit his condition, and Father thanked a God that left him forsaken at eight for the same thing?"

Timothy pales some, and Damian swallows.

"It is not easy, but it is not Herculean. It is not Sisyphean. I thought that you were capable of seeing past his pecularities, to his core, that you could see the intention behind his flawed means of expressing it?" Forcing eye contact with Cassandra makes her bite her lip, breaking it to look away from his penetrating gaze.

"Do not penalise me because you do not care to put in extra effort. Do not puppet me because you only care to pick fights, but don't bother to spend time with Father, and wonder why your relationship has collapsed? Do not make me your mouthpiece because you don't accept the ways he reaches out to you as valid methods of trying to initiate a relationship, and always assume the worst of him."

None of them say anything.

"You are my family. I love you all." The words slip from his tongue with a surprising ease, this once. It is in that regard he did indeed take after his father. It is rare such sentiments come easy to his lips, he prefers showcasing them through his actions. "But I will not abandon Father for you. Certainly not until he actually does something that merits such an abandonment."

This time, no one tries to stop him as he retrieves his luggage and walks back down the hall.

He goes upstairs first, and returns them to his room. Not quite stripped bare, but certainly stripped back. He seethes at the audacious behaviour.

Moving through the hallway, he finds other doors ajar, and sees his siblings' rooms similarly barren.

Looking into Richard's room is when he feels a palm slip over his shoulder. He doesn't turn, but doesn't shove off the touch either. "Forgiveness will be earned. Forgetting will not."

"I understand," Cassandra whispers. "I've...been struggling. Frustrated. I should not have agreed with brothers. Dad deserves more."

"No one deserves anything. But I dare say Father has done his best to earn it, no?"

Neither of them say anything more, but he waits for Cassandra to return her own bags, and when she kneels, arms open to him, he allows himself to eek out a small number of tears on her shoulder.

They go downstairs together, and take the longer way to avoid the empty foyer. When Cassandra opens the door, Damian clenches his fists seeing Father kneeling where they left him standing, and he dare say bawling may be the most apt descriptor for what he sees.

Cass' breath hitches, and she runs across the room, dropping to her knees by his side. Father startles, moving away, but she lunges after, pulling him into a hug before he can resist, and two large arms come around her, squeezing her likely to the point of pain, but she doesn't make a sound as apologies are sobbed into the hug, promises to do better that Damian does not bother contradicting, not now, as he taps Father's arm and is welcomed in too. Wet lips shakily press to his head, then to his sister's hair, and Father gasps for air between their heads.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispers to himself, or to them, Damian isn't sure, but he hushes them anyway, and the three of them end up in a miserable silence punctuated only by tears from all three of them.

He's not sure how long they remain there, only that his knees hurt, when a hand smooths over his shoulder, running over his back to make its way over to Bruce's arm wrapped around him.

"Mum's taking the car to the garage, we're gonna stay for a little while, B," Duke says, lowering himself to kneel next to them. Damian is seized by an immense gratefulness for him too, even if he isn't sure how he came to know of today's fiasco.

This

CW. Ableism