The family taking Damian ice skating for the first time and he gets so frustrated because not only is he bundled up with seven layers, but ice skating is so hard and Dick is so good at it and everyone is going to laugh at him because he is supposed to be graceful like his mother and tough like his father but he can’t make it 12 inches on the ice before he falls face down all he wants to do is cry.
Dick notices the tears forming before anyone else, expertly gliding over to his little brother and kneeling in front of him.
“Come here, Dami, let’s do it together.”
He grabs both of Damian’s mitten cover hands and pulls him back onto his feet, making sure to keep him steady. He skates backwards, tugging Damian along and gently teaching him how to angle his blades and move his feet.
Damian listens to him, doing his best to control his movements, and by the time they’re ready to leave he is able to skate side by side with Dick, clinging to his hand for balance.
More than that, he’s actually having fun. Smiling with Dick, soaking up the praise showered upon him when he does something right, making fun of Jason for busting his ass again.
“You’re doing so well, baby bat! We’ll have to come practice more often!”
Alfred brings them hot chocolate when they’re all settled back in the living room, Damian having shed all his layers and tucked into Dick’s side.
“How was the ice rink, my young masters?”
Tim tells him about the outing, how crowded the place was, how long they were there, how Cass and Stephanie created a routine, how Jason probably has a bruise the size of Texas on his behind.
“Shut up, Drake”
Then Tim pulls out his phone to show Alfred a picture that Dick and Damian are not at the angle to see.
“Oh, how precious, you must show master Bruce.”
The next week there is a new photo added to the family portrait wall. It is from the ice rink, showing Dick’s back as he bends forward to reach Damian’s hands. Damian is clearly visible, coat buttoned to the top, soft beanie covering his head, and scarf bundled thick around his neck, hiding his mouth. But, his cheeks are clearly raised in a grin, eyes crinkled with the force of it. He was laughing when it was taken, something Dick had said about signing Jason up for ice dancing.
Damian stops in front of it as he climbs to stairs, studying the image.
“That’s my new favorite.”
Damian turns to see Bruce standing at his shoulder, gazing very fondly at the newly hung photograph.
Damian blinks up at him, still desperate for his approval after all these months.
“Really?”
Bruce shifts his gaze to Damian before dropping to his knee beside him.
“Really. You look so happy, sweetheart, how could it not be my favorite?”
save me absolute wondermagic SVAE ME. Oh my god they are so hot and Diana is sooooo sweet and lovely and noble and Zatanna is so strong and charming and pretty.
I just watched the new Avatar last night and it made me feel so woke because it was hard to enjoy with all the weird biases and stereotypes we’ve got going on in there?
I don’t have all my thoughts in order but why did they have another white-man-turned-blue come into the native women’s space and just… like completely take over? Varang is obviously a very headstrong and capable female character, it’s almost like that was the point, but as soon as the white man looks at her, she just gives him complete control of her and her people. That makes absolutely zero sense at all.
On a different note, why are quaritch and Jake lowkey co parenting that little white boy
It doesn't matter who the nearest victim is, he will force their arms around his back and bury his head wherever it lands. He'll ignore (performative) protests and general reluctance because he knows whoever he's got his arms around probably needs it more than he does.
But the times that he's in Bludhaven alone, when he doesn't feel like calling Wally or Kory, when he needs someone else, he'll make the drive over to Gotham and drape himself over Barbara's back.
Dick thinks he might be the only person in the world who understands how nice it is to be in her arms. Sure, sometimes he craves the bulk of Bruce or the steadiness of Alfred, but those can wait until weekly dinner at the manor or his next meetup with Batman. When he needs to be held, needs gentleness and connection, he can make it to the clock tower in 30 minutes.
He never warns Barbara he's coming, but of course she knows anyway. Sometimes he'll sit at her feet, arms around her waist and face tucked into her lap, one of her hands wound through his hair, gently combing down his cowlick. Sometimes he collapses into her, squeezing himself on top of her legs and nosing her collarbone. She'll grunt, let out a long sigh, but she still wraps her arms around his back, making sure he stays securely where he is.
On very special occasions, Dick will show up well past the hour even a bat should be awake. His need for that physical affection has kept him up and drove him right to Barbara's bed. He never has to wake her up, she's always waiting, comforter raised in a silent invitation for him to crawl in. He never sleeps sounder than when he's surrounded by her warmth.
When Jason Todd needs a hug, he ignores the urge.
He grits his teeth as he watches Dick bounce from bat to bat, ruffling hair and squeezing shoulders, and he pretends that the last thing he wants is some physical affection. He refuses to lean into the hands that stitch his wounds and pat his back.
Even necessary contact becomes stressful. He avoids the cave as much as he can in case someone needs help with an injury and he might have to touch. He refuses to share a ride on anyone's bike because the grip and the closeness make his teeth chatter.
The dam breaks when people start questioning him. Everyone is extra skittish, refusing to even make eye contact for fear of Jason bolting. When they finish a particularly tough case one night and Dick reaches out to pat his shoulder but catches himself and flinches like he's been burned, Jason decides he has had enough. He silently marches up the stairs to the kitchen and stops in front of Alfred, waiting for the butler to glance up from the cutting board.
"Oh! Master Jason, can I help you with something?"
Jason is silent for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek before murmuring, "Would it be alright if I, uh, hugged you, Alfie?"
Alfred hesitates just a second out of pure shock before pulling his gloves off and beckoning Jason forward, "Come here, my boy."
Alfred wraps around the boy as much as he can, holding firm, and Jason just melts. It takes everything in him not to let the tears that have been building for days slip out onto Alfred's shoulder.
The butler doesn't loosen his hold until Jason starts to shift away, making sure he knows there's no part of him that is bothered by this demand for affection. When Jason backs up enough to make eye contact again, he breathes out a sigh.
"Thank you, Alfie. I think I really needed that.'
"I might have needed that as well, master Jason."
After that first time, Jason has no shame in finding Alfred whenever he starts getting antsy about touch. And if the visits start coming more and more often, you'll never hear a complaint out of Alfred.
When Tim Drake needs a hug, he asks.
As arguably the most well adjusted member of this family, he takes pride in improving his communication skills. He came to the conclusion that the most efficient way to get a hug from the crew of socially inept heroes he surrounds himself with is to ask in the plainest of terms.
Sometimes he'll ask Kon or Bart, who are both eager and excited to accommodate. He occasionally asks Cassie, but most of the time he can tell the thought makes her uncomfortable, even if only mildly, so he tries not to do so unless the urge is extreme. He loves asking Dick because he doesn't even need to get the words out anymore. He'll just show up wherever Dick is (cave, watchtower, apartment, etc.) and shrug his shoulders and Dick will gladly drop what he's doing and embrace him with a grin.
But his favorite hug is Bruce. Most of the time when Tim needs a hug, it's not about connection or intimacy, it's about safety. Tim needs somewhere that feels completely secure, and that happens to be his dad's arms.
He's so easy to ask, too. He never makes Tim feel shy or uncomfortable for asking, just gives him patience and encouragement, regardless of what it is Tim needs.
The first time Tim stutters out the question, Bruce visibly softens and kneels down in front of him, tilting his face up to catch Tim's eyes.
"Of course you can have a hug, sweetheart. Anytime."
After that, Tim has absolutely no hesitation coming to Bruce and folding right into his broad frame. And Bruce lets him stay as long as he wants, rubbing his back and whispering reassuring words into his hair.
When Cassandra Cain needs a hug, she hovers.
Words have never been her strong suit. The idea of asking someone out loud for something as basic, as instinctual, as an embrace feels insulting. She should be able to convey her desire to be touched without words.
Not everyone understands.
It took Stephanie a couple of days to figure out why she had a constant shadow in her apartment. She knew Cass could be clingy, but this was extreme. She chanced a touch on the shoulder, and when the girl immediately pushed into her hand, Steph dragged her into her arms.
Bruce understood that she needed some sort of attention the first time he encountered the hovering after patrol, he just didn't understand it was physical. He spent a lot of time asking questions, offering to listen, checking for injuries. When he started to check her joints for sprains and felt how her limbs got a little heavier in his grip, he pieced it together. He held her for a long time, excited to finally be able to offer some type of comfort.
Dick still doesn't get it, his default reaction is just to offer a hug.
Most of the time, though, Cass is hovering over Tim's shoulder. He was the only one that just got it. He took one look at her the first time she appeared in his shadow while he was getting ready for bed and opened his arms. He noticed the tense shoulders, the set of her jaw, and he knew.
When Cass comes to him, he doesn't ask questions, he doesn't search her features for answers, he just lets her cling onto him and rest for a minute. He lets her absorb his softness. Sometimes he'll read something in her face that tells him to talk, to remind her he's there and he loves her, but most of the time the two of them just sit in comfortable silence. Something she only really gets with him.
When Damian Wayne needs a hug, he gets mean.
The feeling of needing touch is not one he understands. It is not a necessity, nor is it something he grew up being granted, so why does he now feel like it is something he cannot live without.
He doesn't understand why, when Jason finishes wrapping his arm, the feeling of the older boy smoothing the bandage down and gently rubbing his elbow makes his skin tingle, so he snaps at Jason to stop treating him like a child.
He doesn't understand why he feels a little lightheaded when Tim brushes the dirt off of him and checks for bruises after they spar, so shouts for Tim to leave him alone, that he doesn't need his help.
He tries not to abscond his father out of principal, but when Bruce insists on tucking him into bed when he's sick, he almost forgets to hold his tongue. His father brushes the hair off his forehead and feels for a temperature, and Damian doesn't understand why the cool hand on his flushed face feels better than any medicine he's taken that night.
Dick is there when the feeling becomes too much.
They are out on patrol, just the two of them, when they encounter Two-Face. Everything is fine, but the fight is rougher than Dick planned, rougher than he would have willingly brought Damian along for. When a goon fires a stray bullet in his brother's direction, Dick finishes the job quickly. He takes out the rest of the gang with precision, barking at Damian to get down and stay there. When the fight is over, Dick rushes to Damian, wasting no time in checking for a bullet wound. When he finds none, he hoists Damian onto his hip and starts towards the car.
"Nightwing! Put me down this instant!"
Damian's face is red and his breathing is rapid. Dick studies him for a moment before lowering him to his feet. He kneels down in front of him once he's settled.
"We need to get out of here, Robin. I'll send Hood to do some clean up, but I want you home."
Damian scoffs.
"I am just as capable as you, Nightwing. I can handle idiotic goons that can't aim and I can stay to clean up. You can't treat me like I'm glass just because you don't trust me!"
He's borderline screaming by the end of his rant, and Dick can hear how close to tears he is in his voice. He reaches for his shoulder, resting his hand there.
"Robin, its's not that I don't trust you. I trust you as much as anyone, even Batman, but I don't trust myself if I let you get hurt. I need to protect you, the way I wish I had been protected, okay? It's not that I don't trust you, it's that I love you, Robin."
Damian blinks for a moment, eyes rapidly searching Dick's face for something, before he crumples into his chest. Dick can feel the way his chest heaves with cries. Dick scoops him up and gets them to the cave as quickly as possible, holding Damian against his chest the whole way. He messages Jason to take care of Two-Face and call the cops before he takes Damian to the med bay.
After he sets him down on a cot, he peels Damian's domino off as gently as possible, the sides already lifted from the tears. He quickly checks over the rest of his body while Damian continues to sniffle quietly, finding nothing but some bruising and a sprained wrist.
"Are you okay, Dami? Are you hurting?"
Damian shakes his head, staring at his lap as tears continue to drip down his face and drip onto his leggings.
"How can I make it better, honey?"
Damian looks up then, staring at Dick with watery eyes.
"Can you hug me again, please?"
After that line is crossed, Damian doesn't bare his teeth at every ounce of affection. He still gets overwhelmed when its too much, when he feels a little too coddled and he gets scared, but his hugging becomes much more frequent.
No one's hugs feel quite as perfect as Dick's, though.
A universe where Clark is like 20 years older than Bruce and he starts getting grays and he’s really embarrassed at first because he thinks it makes him seem weak but Bruce catches him plucking one out in the watchtower bathroom and starts actually drooling and Clark decides right then and there that maybe gray hair isn’t so bad and maybe Bruce isn’t as stoic as he seems
turnnoffyourmind
romaincrisis
prguitarman
kianamaiart
