Every member of the batfamily owns a shitty old Nokia phone.
They all dropped their much more expensive modern-day phones from a few stories up mid Vigilante-ing at least once and now they're no longer allowed to have their Good Phones on their person during crime fighting.
At least one thug has been domed in the back of the head by a Nokia lol
Jason and Damian are playing a game where they test each others resistance to poisons while the others make bets.
Dick: So we're all in agreement about Damian winning?
Jason: No loyalty.
Duke: I bet on you Jason
Jason: Then you're gonna lose lol.
While they're talking Bruce just... mixes all of them together and downs the concoction.
Bruce: I've had vodka stronger than this.
Everyone is horrified except Alfred, who watched Bruce do this a hundred times when he first finished his training as a 'party trick' and already placed his bet on Bruce.
At one point, drunk out of their minds, Tim got ahold of a video of Jason saying âI love you guys.â While Cass was holding back his hair as he was throwing up.
It was often brought up in their sibling group chats as a âwe shall never forgetâ for fun and jokes.
Jason would sound pissy, but they knew if he really didnât like the video going around he would make it a lot more obvious.
When Dick hinted at sending it to Bruce, âhe would cry I thinkâ, Jason didnât even shut down the idea entirely. Just a message of
âI wouldnât live it down if the old man saw me get this softâ
âYou kinda sound like a build-a-bear.â
âGuys I have an idea!â
When Bruceâs birthday arrived, he really didnât expect to get anything from them.
Theyâd all made time to be at the manor, that was gift enough.
So when all of them put their similar looking presents on the table, he was surprised.
One by one, he opened the small boxes.
âMini versions of your vigilante hero personas?â He questioned with a laugh. They were small stuffed plushies, looking more like round balls than anything. Their little outfits were undoubtedly the toy versions of the heroes sitting in front of him.
âYou missed the best partâ Tim said and pressed the stomach of his own. âI love you, Bâ
Even as his ears were entirely red, he smiled and gave the toy back. Flushing even more when Bruce began pressing the button again and again.
âThey all got the same voice line.â Dick grinned and lined all of them up beside one another.
âAll of them?â
Eyeing one of them specifically.
âAll of âem old man.â Jason said, standing up and moving towards the door, âIâm going out for a smoke.â His neck tinted pink along with the tips of his ears.
In the old Gotham air, he was soon joined by his dad. âI love you too Jay.â
I like the idea that Bruce found out Jason was alive not because of some dramatic reveal or anything but just cause he got back from patrol one night and Jason was causualy as fuck in the manor looking through the fridge.
Like Bruce passes the kitchen on the way up to his room and at first he thinks it's Tim or perhaps Dick came over at some point, but then something in his tired brain clicks and he's like "Wait.." And then rushes back to the kitchen doorway.
Lo and behold, there is his son, his precious baby boy he thought was gone forever, tears start to build in his eyes as he gazes at the child he watched die in his arms, his little boy looks so different but he's still that boy from all those years ago, Bruce can tell, a father can always tell. And as mascara runs down Bruce's face, Jason opens his mouth to speak, the first words Bruce will hear from his son in years..
i love random damian skills that never get brought back they're so funny
Like yeah, of course this ten year old can mimic voices of teenagers and fully grown adults enough to trick THE FUCKING BATMANS SECURITY SYSTEM IN HIS MOST SECURE BASE. of course he can do that
also of course he can survive being stabbed in a vital organ. yeah. he can just...move it aside from the knife that he was stabbed with and heal fully while he sleeps. just move HIS LIVER out the way. I'm sure tim would appreciate that skill for his spleen but whatever.
Is there a possibility for a âJust how do I tell him?â Like time passes and how the team feels like about it not being right and Corey (bless her heart I love her â€ïž) is the one who talks and gets both sideâs unbiased and some how brings them both to terms about their feeling for each other.
JUST HOW DO I TELL HIM? PT. 2
Nightwing x Male Reader
LINK TO PART ONE AND PART THREE
authors note: So....this fic might've taken half a year or more to come to fruition, but let me explain. I didn't see this blowing up as much as I thought, and when that happens, I shut down. Like, my mind goes blank on how I can make the 2nd part be as juicy as the first, so yeah. That's why I suck at series. Anyways, thanks for the idea and hope you enjoy!
Dick left the first voicemail ten minutes after you walked out.
âHey. Itâs me. I justâplease call me when you get this. I want to talk. I love you.â
You didnât return his call. The second voicemail came an hour later.
âI know youâre angry. You have every right to be. Iâm not asking you to forgive me. Just...just hear me out. Please.â
Still nothing.
By midnight, desperation took the reigns.
âHey...itâs me again. Iâm sorry for calling so much, I justâI keep replaying your face when you left and I canâtâfuck.â A sharp inhale. âPlease. I canât do this without you.â
Dick slept maybe an hour that night, phone clutched in his hand like a lifeline. When morning came and there was still no missed call, no text, something in him splintered.
The team noticed almost immediately.
Dick skipped breakfast. Skipped briefing. And when he did show up, he was sharp edged and volatile, snapping at anyone who spoke too slowly or stood too close. Wally tried to joke it off once, just once, and Dick rounded on him so fast the room went dead silent.
âYou done talking?â Dick snapped. âBecause if you have another joke in you, now would be a great time to shut the hell up.â
By the third day, heâd stopped eating entirely. Coffee and adrenaline were the only things keeping him upright. His patience was gone, his temper frayed so thin it snapped at the smallest provocation. Training dummies were left in pieces. His knuckles were split and raw, blood smearing the wraps because he forgot (didnât care) to change them.
On the fourth day, Bruce finally stepped in.
âYouâre not cleared for patrol tonight.â
Dick laughed, but it was harsh and humorless. âExcuse me?â
âYouâre distracted. Youâre irritable. You missed three tactical cues in training.â Bruceâs voice was firm. âThat gets people killed.â
Dickâs jaw clenched. âSo thatâs it? You bench me because my personal life imploded?â
âThis isnât about your personal life. This is about your judgment.â
Dick stepped closer, fists clenched. âFunny. You never seemed to have an issue when your judgment was compromised.â
Bruceâs eyes hardened. âEnough.â
âNo,â He shot back, anger finally spilling over. âYou donât get to pull rank now. Not when you taught me to bury everything and keep moving like nothing hurts. This is on you too.â Dick turned and left, rage and shame twisting together until he couldnât tell them apart.
Meanwhile, you were doing just as badly.
You ignored his missed calls. Deleted the voicemails without listening to them and called it self-preservation. Reasoned that if you heard just a word, that it would only drag you back into something already poisoned. Your plan was to keep ignoring him until the heartbreak lessened into something more bearable, but then Kory showed up.
You recognized her flaming hair though the peephole immediately.
âY/N,â she said softly, after you opened the door against your better judgement. âMay I come in?â
âNo.â
Her expression faltered. âPlease, I only want to talk.â
You laughed, brittle. âOf course you do.â
âDick is hurting.â
âThatâs unfortunate.â
Kory blinked. âI may not understand everything that happened, butââ
âYou donât,â you snapped, anger flaring hot. âAnd forgive me if I donât want the woman my boyfriend was in love with mediating our breakup. I don't care what happens to him anymore. And if he's as broken as you claim he is, maybe you should go back to him. Seems on brand."
Kory flinched as if you'd slapped her, the green in her eyes dimming with hurt. It was almost enough to make you feel guilty.
Almost.
âItâs not like that,â she said, her voice barely a whisper. âNot anymore. What I felt for Dick, it was real, but it was also a lifetime ago. We remain good friends, nothing more. However, what he feels for you is real. He loves you, Y/N. That's why he's a wreck. Heâs not eating, not sleeping. Heâs picking fights with everyone. Heâs going to get himself killed out there.â
A bitter laugh escaped your lips. âAnd thatâs supposed to be my problem? He made his choice. He lied. Let him deal with the consequences.â
âIs that what you really want?â Kory challenged, her voice gaining a sliver of strength. âTo wait for a call from Bruce? To hear that the man you loveâyes, you still love himâdied because you were too proud to answer the phone?â
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You hated her for it. Hated that she could see through the brittle armor youâd built around yourself. Hated that she was right.
âJust go, Kory,â your voice cracked. âPlease.â
She looked at you for a long moment, her expression softening with something like pity. She gave a slow, sad nod. âI hope you find what youâre looking for in this silence. I really do.â
She turned and walked away, leaving you alone in the suffocating silence of your apartment. You slammed the door before sliding down the wood. The tears youâd been fighting for days finally broke free. You werenât just mourning a relationship. You were mourning the fool who had believed it was real in the first place.
Back at the manor, Dickâs confrontation with Bruce had left him hollowed out. Heâd stormed to the gym, needing the violence, the mindless repetition of hitting something until his muscles screamed and his lungs burned. Heâd gone through three bags, his movements sloppy and fueled by a self-loathing so profound it was a physical ache.
"Master Richard. A moment, if you please."
Dick didn't turn. "Not now, Alfred."
"Now," Alfred insisted, stepping closer. He held out a glass of water and a clean towel. "Your hands require attention before you do permanent damage."
Dick looked down at his knuckles, raw and bleeding through the frayed wraps, before grabbing the towel and water.
"This cannot continue," Alfred stated. "Your self-flagellation is achieving nothing but ensuring you are too injured and exhausted to function, should the city actually require its protector."
"He's right, you know," a new voice said from the doorway. Jason was leaning against the frame, arms crossed, looking unimpressed. "You're putting on a real performance. The tragic, fallen hero. It's a bit much, even for you."
Dick's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. "What are you doing here?"
"To tell you to get a grip," he said, pushing off the doorframe and walking in. "So he left you. Boo hoo. You fucked up. We get it. But you're taking down the whole team's efficiency with your moping. Wally's walking on eggshells, Bruce is in full Bat-dad mode, and frankly, it's boring."
Dick's jaw tightened. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" Jason countered, getting right in his face. "I know what it's like to have the person you care about look at you like you're a monster. I know what it's like to screw up so bad there's no coming back from it. The difference is, I didn't have a dozen people hand holding me through it. You fucked up. So either fix it or accept the consequences and move the hell on. ThisâŠthis is just pathetic."
For the first time in days, a different emotion cut through the haze of grief and shame. Pure, unadulterated rage. "Get out." Dick snarled.
"Make me."
It was Bruce who intervened, stepping between them. "Enough. Both of you." He looked at Dick, his expression unreadable. "Jason is right about one thing. This behavior is unproductive. You have two choices, Richard. Go and seek him out. Or let him go. But this limbo is over. Today."
