Jaspersgems - Jasper

Dick: Are you talking to yourself?

Damian: It's the only way to have an intelligent conversation around here.

all those terms for when you dont really like something but someone else does and you respect that… youve heard of “not my cup of tea” and “whatever floats your boat” and now its time for this phrase to shine

Since we all agree that people of the Alley of Crime adore Red Hood and believe in him, I think it is time to imagine Jason in a scene similar to the one from OG Spiderman, where his identity is accidentally outted in front of crowd of people, and they all are just choose to protect him and help him out.

So maybe Gotham is facing especially nasty trouble, and vigilantes are on the receiving end this time. So maybe Jason is thrown at the dirty Alley in his part of town, wounded, with helmet flying off, and there is just a crowd of people staring as bleeds out, astonished. And Jason thinks, oh, that's the end — he can go and shoot himself, honestly, because he just failed the man rule every vigilante have: never show your face, never reveal your identity.

But people are... helping him? His eyes are half-open, breath laboured and pained, but all he hears is gentle murmuring:

'God, he is just a kid...'

'He must be younger than my son.'

'Poor child...'

He feels soft elderly hand against his cheek as someone from the crowd, an ex nurse, comes closer to bandage his injuries, while a kid, barely with the size of his helmet, brings it back, sticking out their tongue as they try to place it back on his head, to hide his face.

'It is okay,' the old woman reassures him. 'You are safe with us, son. We hadn't seen anything.'

Jason's eyes sting, because, oh.

It is his people. He loves them. He will die for them.

And they love him just as much.

He still waits for someone to out him, though. But the week ends, the villain is out of the picture, and no one says a thing. The only proof that it ever happened is civilians, who keep waving at Jason — not Red Hood, just Jason — when their paths cross somewhere in the shops or streets.

And that's how he knows that it is them; it is them, and they keep him safe as much as he keeps safe them.

The first time Duke crashed out wss the first time the batfam ever truly met him

I still stand by the fact that he was heavily code switched when he first joined the fam

But when he crashed out for the first time (which was probably over Bruce parenting him) he cussed them out like he was back in the narrows, yes he did heavily use the n word, yes his accent is heavier than jasons, yes his AAVE comes full swing when he argues, and yes he was spitting such facts and was so unfiltered that this argument could come close to an argument with dick and bruce

Like once someone crosses duke's boiling point there's no going back

He probably would have to hold back from swinging on someone since he grew up in a school w frequent fights and frequently fought

And then for Duke he's not arguing with his dad or siblings he's arguing with some rich ass people who decided to take him in rn

He isn't holding shit back cuz his parents are jokerized and he couldn't give two flying FUCKSZ about anyone else rn

And ik duke's comebacks are sharp and quick cuz having and argument with an incompetent high-school boy has to be a form of psychological training

When Duke argues with them for the first time they watch as "newly adopted, kind, hope if gotham, rise of the sun-" Duke go flying out of his body, and the enter of "no bullshit, quick to clock a hoe ass bitchs shit, fuck yo self and fuck yo knocked kneed mf granny, your not my mf daddy bitch ass nigga,- Duke

And don't get me started on how loud this man will get, especially if he's crying- cuz if you tell him to calm down it's overrrr

This man will make the walls shake w the power he will put in his voice if someone dared to get loud w him- if they go low he goes lower

The moment Damian tried to shit talk him they argued for an hour, Duke prolly gained Damian respect from them tearing eachother apart- like their both kids maybe not close in age but still argue with no remorse cuz there's no respect your elders shit goin on

And you think this man won't act a fool at a gala? Think again

Hell turn this snobby gala into a block party real mf quick

Look down on him and all you'll see is that uppercut he finna give ya

Neway stan bitch ass menace Duke🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

Remember: the more difficult you make it for them to realize a report is false, the more useless you make the portal.

This.

I can't explain it, but Batman needs to be mythologized. In Gotham, that is.

Logically, they know he's just a man, made of skin and bones and blood, like all of them. Those who met him, who had the ill luck to, say he feels like the city itself.

When danger approaches, with the click of a gun or hiss of a knife, it’s not the police people pray to. There's a single name that rivals Gotham‘s, and it’s not them.

So much so, there's whispers of what might happen, about guidelines being stepped. Kinda like how if you're compared to Aphrodite, you might die.

Such as:

If you see a wounded bird, of any kind, take it to a vet, or nurture it back to health. You’ll get robbed otherwise.

Don't wear pearls. Just don't.

Never let your son walk alone at night. Never lay your hands on them, either. The Bat doesn't take kindly to it.

who can relate

<Kinda continuation of: prev>

——

Dick: Have you ever doubted that I love you?

Bruce: …

——

It wasn’t a fight. At least it didn’t really feel like all those usual fights, and Bruce was pretty sure it wasn’t a fight. But then again, he’s always been wrong in guessing about his children.

Dick seems… distant. Distant but still close. Usually when Dick wants to be distant, he leaves. His children are very good at leaving and not telling him where they are. He always knows, though, he’s Batman.

Bruce doesn’t remember any scathing words being exchanged between them. No heated glares, heavy air, stilted conversations. Nothing that usually promises an argument is to come or has passed without Bruce realizing it.

But for some reason, Dick was still lingering around the hallways. If Bruce turned around, he would see his eldest child standing around the edges, his body tense, and a perturbed expression on his face. Just watching him, waiting for a moment that Bruce was honestly scared to come.

It was starting to worry Bruce. His baby has always been a bright and shining star, even when he doesn’t want to be.

But Bruce also knew that if he tried to pry, he would only push Dick away. After many years of trail and errors, Bruce decided the best course of action would be to let Dick figure it out himself or come to Bruce on his own.

Strangely enough, it didn’t take very long for Dick to come into his study, his face trying and failing to adopt a calm and nonchalant expression as he sat in the edge of his desk.

“Hey B…” Dick said lowly, fiddling with one of the snow globes he had on his desk. Bruce had gotten that specific one from Dick when they first visited Zitka at the zoo when he was nine and Dick had begged to get something from the gift shop.

“Dick.” Bruce nodded, setting down his pen and giving his son his full attention.

Dick let out a shuddering sigh and set down the snow globe. Bruce’s hands twitched with the urge to fix it and set it straight, but then Dick turned the globe and moved it to the exact position that he liked.

Bruce couldn’t help the small twitch of his lips. He was probably being too obvious, Dick most likely remembers the several panic attacks he had when Dick was a child, unable to process and handle when his prized possessions were askew. He worked on it. He's fine now.

“I heard something pretty interesting… from Jay.” Dick started haltingly, his eyes staring deeply into Bruce’s. “You guys had a pretty… deep convo recently… right?”

Bruce felt stupid. A deep conversation? He’s assuming that Dick means an emotionally charged conversation but he truly doesn’t remember anything like that happening recently.

“Okay, okay, I can see you racking your brain, so I’ll just tell you,” Dick said, grabbing his Dad’s hands and holding them in his own. Bruce hadn’t even noticed when he started digging his fingernails into the flesh of his arm, close to drawing blood.

Shit. He always fucking does this. Making Dick worry and take care of him like he was an invalid incompetent manchild.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it.” Dick murmured causing Bruce to purse his lips together silently. “Seriously, it’s okay B. I know why you are the way you are. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Bruce nodded silently because it was easier to do so than argue why he should’ve already grown out of his childish habits. You’d think having the media point out his self inflected scars when he was 12 would’ve kicked him out of the habit already…

“What was it that you wanted to talk to me about? I don’t remember any particularly deep conversation with Jason.” Bruce rumbled, tilting his head to the side when Dick’s nose scrunched in annoyance.

“Of course you don’t, just like Jay said…” Dick huffed under his breath. “Okay, let’s just… blurt it out. Get it over with.”

Dick seemed to try and hype himself up, squeezing Bruce’s hands tightly before releasing and continuing the action a few more times.

“Jason said that you think that we hate you, but like, I really don’t know where that came from, and I’m just super confused because I don’t think I’ve said it that often, and yeah I’ve said it, I probably shouldn’t have, really shouldn’t have since you think that I hate you, well you think that all of us-“

“Chum.” Bruce stopped his son’s rapid word vomit with one word, his eyes crinkled with fondness and amusement as he squeezed Dick’s hands back. “Sweetheart, I didn’t understand a single word you just said. Slow down for me, okay?”

Dick took large gulps of air, his face burning with embarrassment as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Right! Right duh, I just- ugh…”

Bruce absentmindedly trailed his eyes over Dick’s face, so much older than when he had last seen him. Maybe a little gaunt… he’ll make Dick some brownies, the ones he used to make when Dick was smaller. Maybe they could watch a movie later, anything that would get DIck to fall asleep.

“Dad…” Dick breathed softy, making Bruce’s heart race. Uh oh, why was this a Dad moment? Did Dick want something?

“Jason came to me and he told me that… you think that I… we hate you. Do you?”

Bruce let out a confused hum. Was that the important conversation he had? Bruce didn’t feel like it was an important conversation; it had been mostly resolved by the time Jason decided to leave. Well, Bruce felt as though it had been resolved.

“… you said it,” Bruce said slowly. The last time he said that, Jason had gone silent and stared at Bruce with a horrified expression before hugging him. It was a nice hug, so Bruce guessed he had read his second son’s expression wrong, and it was all okay in the end.

“No, B, I could… I could never…” Dick’s throat dried up. Why couldn’t he just force the full sentence out? 'No, I don't hate you.' Why does his tongue feel like it's a million pounds? Why do his lips refuse to move?

Bruce hummed sympathetically and nodded his head, like he understood, like he could sort through the mess in Dick’s mind. Bruce had always had an uncanny way of peering into all of their minds when it was the most jumbled, and yet, he was getting it completely wrong this time.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad. It makes perfect sense.” Bruce nodded, having the fucking audacity to pretend that it did make sense. Like Dick hating him was perfectly normal, like living in a house and caring for people who he thinks hate him is nothing out of the ordinary.

“Wha-? No, Bruce, it’s not supposed to make sense!” Dick ran a hand through his hair, carelessly ripping through the knots and tangles, barely feeling the pain radiating from his scalp. The one in his chest hurt a fuckton more.

Bruce chewed on his lower lip, unable to dig his fingernails into the palm of his hand, he settled for digging the heel of his foot against the dorsum of his other, still bruised painfully from a rough night of crime fighting alone.

“What did I do wrong this time?” Bruce asked, wanting to know why Dick was here and why he seemed so… distraught. Not even angry, which was somehow worse.

He had to have done something wrong, after all, both DIck and Jason had come to him separately to rehash this same old conversation. Something must have happened.

That, for some reason, seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

“Dad, you know we love you… right…?” Dick whispered quietly. “You know that I love you, right?” Dick tried to grin, hoping that he would see his father’s face transform into a smile, to hear his deep chuckle of amusement, to listen to his Dad say ‘yes, of course I know that you love me, that you all love me.’

But it never came.

Bruce was quiet. No he was completely silent, staring at his son with a truly baffled expression that Dick has only seen very few times in his life. Like the words coming out of his son’s mouth were such an obvious lie, and he was trying to figure out why he was lying right to his face. Like Dick's love was such an unreachable object for him that there was no way he could already have it.

No no no no no no-

“Dad-!” Dick choked on a sudden sob, forcefully tearing its way out of his throat without his permission. “Please! Tati please! You have to know that I love you!”

Bruce swallowed and slowly extracted his hands from Dick’s grip, well, he tried to. Dick held on tight, steadfastly refusing to let go. “Dick, sweetheart, let me get you a cup of water. I don’t know why you’re crying, but I promise we can figure it out together. I’ll be right back, I swear.” Bruce said, his voice giving away how stressed he was in this situation.

Dick desperately clawed at his Dad’s hands, trying to stop him from leaving, but somehow Bruce escaped his hold. He always escapes his grasp.

As Bruce quickly fled the room, Dick slid down off Bruce’s desk and onto the floor, curling up into hisself. Trying to hide away from the shame and horror that was threatening to explode from his body.

How could this have happened? When had he stopped telling his Dad that he loved him? When had Bruce stopped believing him?

Dick tugged harshly on his hair and wailed, waiting for Bruce to come back.