Two Batfam Ficlets, gen
Title: my name and where I’ve been
Author: ag_sasami
Summary: Dick can’t decide if the terror he feels is for Damian or of him.
Words: 310
Rating: PG
Notes: Set at the end of Streets of Gotham #11.
The smell hits him before Dick even reaches the bottom of the ring: mold and mildew and decaying wood and above it all the cloying metallic scent of blood. A lot of blood apparently, because the floor is unexpectedly slick under his boots. He can barely make out Damian and Abuse in the darkness, not until he gets in closer to the pit where there’s more of everything. More light, more stench, and more blood. On the floor. The walls. Damian.
For a long, shuddering moment Dick can’t decide if the terror he feels is for Damian or of him. Around his eyes blood is thick and flaking off in dry brittle pieces and he looks twice his age. The intention of the mask is obvious, but its source is not and that alone would be enough to turn Dick’s blood cold if it were the only warning sign. Instead his shirt is stuck to him and turning pink with sweat and blood, how much his own is unclear. There is blood running down his arm and the blade of his sword is sticky with more than that.
The boy standing defiant before Batman in civvies and someone else’s gore is far too fierce for a ten year old. Maybe too fierce for a Robin. Except that he’s still so small, muscle building fast on slender bones notwithstanding, and at least some of that blood is his. He sees the less than subtle way Damian is favoring his left shoulder. It’s a damning detail, that anyone Robin is already gunning for would get a hit that bad in on the kid without suffering lasting repercussions. But Dick can’t help but believe it when he says that he didn’t kill Zsasz. He wants to at least believe they were only defending themselves.
Part of him does, but it’s still only part.
---
Title: we like to watch you laughing
Author: ag_sasami
Summary: For Ro’s prompt : Dick buying stuffed toys for Damian! :D
Words: 342
Rating: G
Notes: When I sat down to write this I intended for it to be funny…and then it just wasn’t because Damian has no childhood. Whoops?
“For chrissakes Di-Batman. He’s ten. Encourage him to act like a child sometimes, would you?” Batgirl had all but yelled at him, arms thrown wide in disgust, and Dick can’t even remember what sparked her comment. Apparently Steph had developed some vested interest in Damian’s childhood, and that too happened somewhere outside of Dick’s memory. Outside of his awareness. He’d been playing fine at being a father figure to Damian, all while managing to repeatedly forget that the boy is in fact a ten year old.
Standing amidst the toy aisles, he wished he’d asked Steph to come along and help him. Damian would find himself above all of this frivolity. Oh god, and Dick could just hear the disdain already. “This is going to be a disaster.” He muttered to himself.
Toy cars? Why bother when he has the Batmobile.
Action figures? The kid is Robin. Enough said.
What do you buy for a kid who probably has no childhood left and doesn’t even know how to be a kid if he did?
Dick found himself staring down a wall of stuffed animals. A wall of unseeing, unblinking eyes in plush faces. It was unnerving and perfect: a moderate creep factor and the added bonus of deniability for Damian about owning a toy. A stuffed animal, he figured, was a private kind of childhood joy; a passive, reliable companion in dark and lonely hours easily passed off as a trivial gift for the sake of saving face.
Of course Damian scoffed at the cat with its green glass eyes and mane of shaggy orange fur. He berated Dick, as expected, pointing out that he was superior to other children who felt the need for harmless playthings. But Dick could hear Steph’s grin over the comm when he told her that Damian had taken the cat to his room in spite of his superiority complex. And later, he counted it no small victory to find Damian curled up asleep with the cat tucked under his arm, half hidden beneath the sheets.
Author: ag_sasami
Summary: Dick can’t decide if the terror he feels is for Damian or of him.
Words: 310
Rating: PG
Notes: Set at the end of Streets of Gotham #11.
The smell hits him before Dick even reaches the bottom of the ring: mold and mildew and decaying wood and above it all the cloying metallic scent of blood. A lot of blood apparently, because the floor is unexpectedly slick under his boots. He can barely make out Damian and Abuse in the darkness, not until he gets in closer to the pit where there’s more of everything. More light, more stench, and more blood. On the floor. The walls. Damian.
For a long, shuddering moment Dick can’t decide if the terror he feels is for Damian or of him. Around his eyes blood is thick and flaking off in dry brittle pieces and he looks twice his age. The intention of the mask is obvious, but its source is not and that alone would be enough to turn Dick’s blood cold if it were the only warning sign. Instead his shirt is stuck to him and turning pink with sweat and blood, how much his own is unclear. There is blood running down his arm and the blade of his sword is sticky with more than that.
The boy standing defiant before Batman in civvies and someone else’s gore is far too fierce for a ten year old. Maybe too fierce for a Robin. Except that he’s still so small, muscle building fast on slender bones notwithstanding, and at least some of that blood is his. He sees the less than subtle way Damian is favoring his left shoulder. It’s a damning detail, that anyone Robin is already gunning for would get a hit that bad in on the kid without suffering lasting repercussions. But Dick can’t help but believe it when he says that he didn’t kill Zsasz. He wants to at least believe they were only defending themselves.
Part of him does, but it’s still only part.
---
Title: we like to watch you laughing
Author: ag_sasami
Summary: For Ro’s prompt : Dick buying stuffed toys for Damian! :D
Words: 342
Rating: G
Notes: When I sat down to write this I intended for it to be funny…and then it just wasn’t because Damian has no childhood. Whoops?
“For chrissakes Di-Batman. He’s ten. Encourage him to act like a child sometimes, would you?” Batgirl had all but yelled at him, arms thrown wide in disgust, and Dick can’t even remember what sparked her comment. Apparently Steph had developed some vested interest in Damian’s childhood, and that too happened somewhere outside of Dick’s memory. Outside of his awareness. He’d been playing fine at being a father figure to Damian, all while managing to repeatedly forget that the boy is in fact a ten year old.
Standing amidst the toy aisles, he wished he’d asked Steph to come along and help him. Damian would find himself above all of this frivolity. Oh god, and Dick could just hear the disdain already. “This is going to be a disaster.” He muttered to himself.
Toy cars? Why bother when he has the Batmobile.
Action figures? The kid is Robin. Enough said.
What do you buy for a kid who probably has no childhood left and doesn’t even know how to be a kid if he did?
Dick found himself staring down a wall of stuffed animals. A wall of unseeing, unblinking eyes in plush faces. It was unnerving and perfect: a moderate creep factor and the added bonus of deniability for Damian about owning a toy. A stuffed animal, he figured, was a private kind of childhood joy; a passive, reliable companion in dark and lonely hours easily passed off as a trivial gift for the sake of saving face.
Of course Damian scoffed at the cat with its green glass eyes and mane of shaggy orange fur. He berated Dick, as expected, pointing out that he was superior to other children who felt the need for harmless playthings. But Dick could hear Steph’s grin over the comm when he told her that Damian had taken the cat to his room in spite of his superiority complex. And later, he counted it no small victory to find Damian curled up asleep with the cat tucked under his arm, half hidden beneath the sheets.