DC Super-Heroes By Vincenzo Riccardi.

Damian: Father make them stop

Bruce, fucking with him: what’s got you throwing a hissy? You’re whistling dixie son. Put a kibosh on the gobbledygook it’s time to break

It would be very funny to me if the Batkids started using slang from the eras they were created in. Like this doesn’t change their ages it just makes them all seem weirder than usual

For example-

Dick Grayson: And the old geezer was an eager beaver who helped us find the glitterati who was throwing the party. We all cut a rug but I tells yous clams he may have but Bruce is a dead hopper if I ever saw one. Anything he tells you is floy floy

*Everyone staring at him like he’s lost it*

Jason: Gag me with a spoon. I’m hella done you’re wiggin me out Dickie. Aight imma motor out of here dweebs

Steph: yeah not so much. gonna bounce with Jay.

Tim: That made sense...not. Dick you’re bugging out

Damian clutching Duke’s arm in a death grip: Thomas what is happening should we leave?

Duke: Bet little D we should dip. This is a big yikes

Lucius Fox doesn’t really know Tim Drake.

Sure, he’s had an awareness of the boy’s existence for a while, but Lucius has an awareness of most things that happen in Gotham. That doesn’t mean that he needs to look into all of them.

Now Tim Drake is stood in Lucius’ office on slide thirty-two of a powerpoint on all the things Wayne Enterprises should be doing to improve their profit margins. Lucius takes a moment to regret not looking into Tim Drake.

How old is the boy? Ten? The suit makes him look adorable and tiny, the seriousness with which he discusses the company only heightens the effect. It all contrasts rather awfully with the hard logic coming out of the boys mouth and Lucius would consider putting his head in his hands if that wouldn’t mean missing some of the show.

His mind flashes to all of Tam’s pleas for a little brother and he wonders for a moment how much Jack and Janet Drake would miss their tiny genius.

“You’re not paying attention.” Tim snaps with a severity that he must have learned from Janet.

Lucius leans forward and makes sure he looks properly chastened because, really, he could have missed some good points.

“My apologies, please proceed.”

Tim gives a curt nod and launches into slide thirty-three.

part 1, this on ao3

~

It’s a normal night, until it’s not.

Dick had been purposeful when he had said that Damian could make mistakes. He remembers the way the necessity of perfection had eaten at him when he was younger. He knows that Damian is even more susceptible than he was to that burning self-disgust at anything less than a flawlessness. Upon taking over the mantle of Batman, Dick had decided that Damian needed to know there was at least one adult in his life who wouldn't disown him for delivering anything less than perfection.

He hadn’t thought so much about what would happen when Damian actually did make a mistake.

It happens when Dick is in the middle of congratulating Damian on a particularly impressive move, one with a more gymnastic slant which Dick is sure is based on one of his own trademarks. He’s telling Damian what a good job he’s doing and Damian is puffing up with pride, a smile playing around the edges of his expression. Then Dick catches the glint of the sniper rifle scope.

The ability to dodge bullets is a trademark of members of their family. Damian should feel the whistle of the bullet coming his way, he should jolt back from the air parting in front of him. But Damian's too caught up in his pride to do any of those things quickly enough so within a moment of Dick spotting the rifle scope there’s a bullet in Damian's leg.

Dick is so used to falling that he doesn't remember a time when it didn't feel like flying. The way his stomach drops now though, it doesn't feel like flying. It feels like the kid he said he'd take care of has blood spurting from his leg and it's all Dick's fault.

To his credit Damian is very calm about it. Dick knows he’s been shot before although he doesn’t know if it was a purposeful part of the boys training or not. His blood boils at either prospect. Even as the crowd is still screaming for their heroes to come save them Dick grabs Damian from the blood soaked ground and rushes to the batmobile, putting it on autopilot as he tries to stabilise the patient.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, “I’m sorry. We’ll be back at home in no time and we’ll get you all fixed up, okay?” Dick blinks away the tears at the sight of Damian bloody and pale in front of him. Impediments to his vision will only make it harder to get Damian stable.

“Okay.” Damian replies, voice remarkably steady.

Now aware that someone he trusts is going to make it all better, Damian promptly passes out.

“Shit.” Dick says, young ears now unable to hear him. “Shit shit shit shit shit. Fuck.”

He swears to his heart's content for the rest of the ride back to the manor and it does very little to make him feel any better.

No, the swirling sea of worry-guilt-anguish in his stomach only begins to abate at the sight of Alfred in the bat cave, perfectly calm and with all the necessary medical supplies ready. They get Damian to a bed and Dick tries to make himself useful as Alfred treats the bullet wound.

He isn’t particularly useful and spends most of his time fretting.

“He’ll be fine, Master dick.” Alfred says once he’s finished up and washing the blood from where it had stained his skin.

“Of course he will.” Dick replies, attempting to sound a little more nonchalant than he actually is. From the look Alfred gives him he doesn’t think he succeeds.

He’s spared the indignity of having to say anything else by the rumble of Tim’s motorbike pulling into the cave. Tim gets off with an urgency Dick isn’t sure he expected and when he takes his domino off there’s genuine worry in the frown between his eyes.

“Is he okay?” he asks, his tone frantic.

“He’ll be fine.” Dick's grateful to find that his voice is far more level now than it was ten minutes ago.

Tim tilts his head to the side, looking at Dick. His expression narrows into something slightly more analytical than concern. “Are you okay?”

Dick tries to say yes. He really does. He's Tim’s big brother, he’s Batman. Of course he can tell his little brother that he’s okay. But after a moment of silence Dick glances towards where Damian lies far too still on their operating table and feels the tears he's been fighting off resurface in his eyes.

Tim nods as if this is confirming something. “Come on.” He says. “Let’s get out of here.”

Dick tries to protest that Damian needs someone to be here when he wakes up but Tim just continues to pull him gently out of the cave.

“He’s going to be out for the next few hours. I can make you hot chocolate in the meantime.”

Dick wants to keep protesting but he’s been left tired and weak by the nights events. He allows himself to slump as his little brother leads him out of the darkness.

~

Dick talks. Significantly more than he had intended to.

He talks about how he can’t balance this awful dichotomy of guardian and commander. He talks about how he’s still not entirely sure how to be Batman, let alone a parent. He talks about how he can’t keep doing this without something breaking.

Probably him. Possibly Damian. Both answers are unacceptable.

“I’ll to fix this” Tim says. The determination in his expression reminds Dick of when he came to his bludhaven apartment all those years ago and demanded Dick reprise his roll as Robin. “I’m going to make a call, we’ll sort this out.” he promises.

Tim’s always been good at that. Tugging on the fraying strings of their family tapestry until it resembles something whole. It’s how he came into the family in the first place and Dick has always been grateful for that.

Tim leaves, already dialing a number into his phone with a look of intense concentration. Dick wants to go check on Damian but Alfreds got that handled so it’s not like he’ll actually help. Sitting idle at the boys bedside will probably just make him feel worse.

So Dick hangs his head and waits for someone to save him.

~

“Give me a lift to the airport?” Tim asks far too sweetly. The tone of voice doesn’t suit him.

“You can drive.” Dick points out, suspicious.

Tim gives him a look, like Dick's being difficult on purpose. “It’ll be a bonding opportunity.” he says, his tone lowering to something closer to his usual cadence. Dick still feels suspicious but there’s a million things he has to do today that are more important than arguing with his only sane brother, so he nods. Tim grins in response and gets up with a lot more energy than he tends to these days.

Dick decides that there’s little use in thinking on it more. He’s in charge of far too many things at the moment, he’ll let Tim control this one.

~

Cass appears in the collection area, suitcase in hand, and Dick feels the weight of the world become significantly lighter.

She's more muscled than she was when she left. Her footsteps are more confident. It makes pride rise in Dick's throat as he realises how brave his little sister is for growing so much all by herself.

She picks up her pace once Tim and Dick are in view, almost breaking into a jog as she approaches. She wraps an arm around each of them and Dick can feel her smile pressing against his cheek.

Dick realises that his own smile is pressing against Cass’s cheek. His chin is somehow resting in Tim’s hair.

He savours the moment and feels more full than he has in a long time.

“Welcome home.” He says into Cass’s neck. He feels her smile even wider in response.

~

That night as Dick is about to go on patrol Cass taps his shoulder.

“I can do it.” she says, pointing at the Batman suit Dick had been about to start putting on.

Dick frowns, pushing away the golden hope bleeding into the edges of his soul. “It won’t fit.” he says.

Cass shrugs. “I won’t wear it. But I can do it.”

Dick feels his frown deepen. Cass is younger than him and she hasn’t been in Gotham for so long. It’s not a good idea for her to take on the mantle. She’s already got far too much weighing her down without adding another impossible burden for her to bear.

Dick looks past Cass for a second to allow his eyes to rest on Tim, busying himself with sorting his own gear out but none too subtly watching the exchange between Dick and Cass. He gives a slight nod. An endorsement. Dick looks back to Cass who is smiling very gently at his indecision.

“Okay.” he says, and the room releases a sigh of relief.

~

Cass has been Batman every night since she got back a week ago and Dick hasn’t felt this light since Bruce died.

She was always the best fighter out of them. Always a little faster, a little more cutting, than any of her brothers. She isn’t as used to the detective aspect of things but she's surrounded by enough people trained in that aspect of the job that it isn’t a problem. Dick wears the Nightwing suit and flies higher than he has in months. Damian tends to work with Cass, Batman needs a Robin after all, but will pop up on Dick's patrols with silent requests for ice cream and a shoulder to lean on.

Cass can be Damian's Batman. Dick can be his guardian. It was always too much to ask of Bruce, for him to be both. For him to be their teacher and their hero and their father. Splitting the load seems to be going far better than anything Bruce used to try.

~

Sometimes Dick will catch Tim smiling at him the same way he does at a problem just solved. He wants to say thank you. Thank you for letting me outrun that awful burden for a little longer. Thank you for saving me. But he supposes that’s just what brothers are for.

Instead he asks Tim if he wants to go train surfing. They haven’t since before Bruce died. Dick was far too busy trying to keep the world from collapsing in on itself and Tim was too busy trying to find a way to stop Dick from crumbling under the pressure of it.

“Yeah.” Tim says, his smile twisting and morphing until it goes from analytical to soft and relieved. “Yeah I’d like that.”

~

"Do you miss him?" Damian asks one day. Dick doesn't need any clarification on who he's talking about.

The two of them are sat on a rooftop, legs swinging over the side. Damian is holding a rum and raisin ice cream Dick had pressed firmly into his hand. Dick decided a while ago that Damian should be offered the opportunity to try all the flavours he missed out on in the earlier part of his childhood and he thinks they're making some pretty good progress.

Dick considers for a moment. It's a complicated question. "Yes," he starts, because of course he does, "But it doesn't hurt like it used to. Not now that I can focus on being myself instead of squeezing myself into the shape of the person I'm mourning. And you?"

"Yes." Damian starts, because of course he does. He pauses for longer than Dick did but that makes sense. Damian's thoughts are complicated enough that Dick can't help but be proud of the kid for being able to untangle even a few of them. "But I know a lot of people who've died. And at least this time I gained what I came searching for regardless of what happened to Father."

It's not a thank you. Dick knows that it's going to take a little more time for Damian to learn how to shape his mouth into those words. But it's a start.

Dick looks at all the life surrounding him and smiles.

Reset

Take one.

Micah is strong. More magic runs through his veins than any other student his age. He’s a little too human for Shadow Weaver’s tastes but she’s sure that it can be trained out of him. Then she doesn’t train it out of him fast enough.

She pays for that. Dearly.

~

Take two.

Catra is angry. She’s full of desperation and rage and Shadow weaver can understand that completely. She hopes at first that the anger can be turned into drive, into a need it be the best. It works, sort of. Shadow Weaver can see that she needs greatness like Shadow Weaver craves it, but she buries it. Buries it under her need for connection.

It’s pathetic, Shadow Weaver thinks. Pathetic and childish. She writes Catra off as a failure perhaps a little too early.

~

Take three.

Adora is perfect. Start to finish. She’s Shadow Weaver’s magnum opus. But she’s also not quite right. There’s not enough doubt in her for her to belong to Shadow Weaver, and if she doesn’t belong to Shadow Weaver then she can’t control her. And at that point, what is the child worth? Really?

~

Take four.

Glimmer is untrained and messy and has just had far too much responsibility thrust upon her for someone so young. It’s the perfect breeding ground for dependence. Her magic is just like Micah’s and Shadow Weaver is reminded that if she’d just had a little more time with the boy then he could have been exactly what she wanted. She’ll have that time with Glimmer, she thinks.

She’s wrong.

~

Take five.

There is no take five.

It’s probably a good thing.

big fan of the genre that’s just “what if there was a fucked up city”

hii!! are u going to continue the tim/bernard thing u wrote? because i love it n i think u did so well with it n i would be really happy about a new part🤍

i'm not planning to, that was just meant to be a lil oneshot type thing but i'm glad you liked it!! <3

Nezuko wakes up shaking.

Is it really waking up if you were already conscious, just out of control? As she looks at her brother's bloody form it certainly feels like the first time she’s opened her eyes since arriving in the forest. But who can really be sure?

His throat has been torn out. His clothes have been ripped to shreds. Underneath the ragged strips of cloth there’s barely anything left of him. Just some bone, some gristle. The inedible parts. His face is almost entirely whole though. As tears fill her eyes Nezuko wonders if this is because something deep down stopped her from being able to destroy her brothers face, but she knows that the only reason that part of him was left untouched is that there isn’t that much flesh there.

His eyes are glassy and unseeing.

Dead.

“No,” she whispers, the magnitude of this atrocity finally settling on her shoulders. “No, no, no, no-“

Her refrain only stops once she jams her hand in her mouth. Her jaw keeps moving as if trying to continue the refusal to accept reality and soon her hand is bleeding from the places where her teeth sink into it. The taste of her own blood sends a disjointed euphoria shooting through Nezuko’s brain and she jerks her hand back in horror. Desperate to somehow scrub away what she just did she shovels snow into her mouth to wash away the taste. She keeps chewing on it, pain zapping through her teeth from the cold, until she can spit it out without a trace of pink in the puddle of drool and bile she creates.

She scrubs the blood from her face so desperately that the snow makes small cuts in her skin. Better to be covered in her own blood rather than her brother’s though.

The thought makes her look back towards Tanjiro’s body. Her tears finally begin to fall.

“I did that,” she admits, the salt of her tears stinging as it floods her cuts and scrapes. She kneels down next to Tanjiro’s body. He looks peaceful and Nezuko hates it. Hates the way it reminds her how kind he was. How he would have forgiven her for doing this without question. “I did this. And I won’t ever let it happen again. Not to anyone.”

The forest grows silent for a moment in acknowledgement of her vow. Or maybe in shock that a demon would commit to such a thing.

After she’s said her prayers over his body she carefully takes out Tanjiro’s earrings. Nezuko doesn’t have her ears pierced yet so she just forces the metal through her ear lobes and is surprised by the lack of pain.

All that’s left is to bury him.

~

Almost as soon as she’s finished heaving snow back on top of the grave dawn begins to break. Before the first rays of light can inch above the horizon a primal fear takes hold of Nezuko and she sprints for the nearest cover. A cave that she digs herself into, deep enough that the sunlight will never touch her with its poison. It’s before she even realises it’s what she’s doing that she falls unconscious and begins to dream of brothers and blood and hell.

Nezuko sleeps for a very long time.

Never witnessed a more aro ace man than Bruce Wayne in the Batman movie in my life

SPOILER ! ! ! >:)