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mimiiiiiiiiisstuff · 11 days ago

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"Waking Up in Vegas"

Prologue, Chapter one:, Chapter 2,Chapter 3, Chapter 4:

ok guys! we're back and reader's hot girl summer has started! Sorry I was gonna put this chapter out earlier today but i've just been so busy today plus i'm cooking up a 3rd part for "older" I got my period AND i have a math test and english essay coming up. If some parts don't make sense, its on purpose. Reader is disoriented and drunk half the time, the days blur together for her. Lmk what yall think of readers hot girl summer and what you want/think will happen in the next chapter .Sorry for any mistakes! Comments, reblogs and ASKS make my dayyyy and encourage me.

Saint-Tropez wasn’t just a place, it was a playground, a haven for those who didn’t care about consequences or anyone else’s rules.

And you? Well, you were done with rules.

For the last two weeks, you’d been living like this, untouchable, free, and completely lying to your family.

You had told Bruce you were staying with Ariel and her father, which was true, for the first two days anyway.

Ariel's father is a busy man, he couldn't take 2 and a half months off work to babysit two 16 year olds who would do what they wanted anyway. As soon as he left, Ariel began calling your two other close friends, Claire and Rory. Together, all four of you were unstoppable at school though it was an unspoken rule that you and Ariel were the dynamic duo. All four of you stayed in Ariel's ocean front villa, relaxing, tanning, and just getting settled.

God, let's not even start on how drastically everything changed while you were at boarding school and the family found out Tiffany's true colors. They were all so.....protective now. You got calls everyday, from each of your 'siblings' separately, dozens of texts asking you what you ate, who you were with, and what you were doing. You didn't entertain them. The only person you replied to was Bruce, and that's only because you knew if he wanted to, he could call off this whole trip.

You didn't answer Tim's random, vague questions like, "Who's that on your story? Do you know them? Are you sure they're safe to be with?" He was asking about a simple sunset dinner picture you posted with Ariel, so you blocked him. He's way too nosy.

You didn't reply to the groupchat the girls, Barbra, Steph, and Cass added you in called "The girls!!"

What a creative name!

You left after you saw 'Tiffany was removed from this conversation'. Maybe you were being petty but they obviously had this chat before and didn't bother to add you to it before Tiffany was exposed. It was your turn to ignore them.

You definitely didn't reply to Damian's outright threatening messages that he sent almost every other day, they all sounded something along the lines of "You will regret this. You cannot simply leave and run away from your family. Come home or else."

He's such a strange little boy, he spoke and acted like an angry Victorian prince. He texted you like you were close before, like it wasn't him who pushed you away. You were coming back in two months and yet he acted like ran away and changed your name.

Jason, Bruce, and Dick were the most consistent and annoying, in that order exactly.

Jason texted you every morning at 8 and every night 11, like clockwork. His texts were daily updates what he was planning on doing that day, asking you the same, and reminding you that he's sorry and that he loves you. It tugged at your heart not to answer him, and sometimes, you gave in and you could feel the joy in his response when you replied. You and Jason's conversations went like this, on the odd occasion you replied,

"Good morning." - Jason

"How are you? No trouble in paradise I hope."- Jason

"My days gonna be pretty dull today, nothing much except patrol. Might go to that bookstore you used to like." - Jason

Your cold heart would melt when he said things like that and you would reply,

"awww! jason, thats so sweet." and follow with "I'm good!! how bout you??? staying out of trouble?"

Jason was your softest spot and he knew it.

Bruce texted you three times a day. Morning, afternoon, and evening. His messages were dry and authorative, demanding answers. He wanted to know who you were with, what you were doing, if you left the house, and if you were okay. The fatherly care and authority isn't something your used to, it was strange. You weren't sure if you felt cared for or suffocated. You answered Bruce once a day, your tone straight to the point, answering only what he asked, nothing more.

Dick is by far the worst. He texted you constantly, as if trying to make up for 11 years of not texting you at all. He texted you when he woke up, when he slept, when he ate, what he ate, and sent you pictures of everything. Once he sent you a picture of a tiny bird saying it reminded him of you. You nearly blocked him after that, the only reason you didn't was because you liked how desperate he was. Not long ago, it was you spamming him like that. Plus he can be funny most of the time. You don't even want to think of the constant selfies he sent. You only ever replied once.

Dick sent a selfie of him hanging with some of the Titans, you forgot why or what he said along with it, but you do remember seeing Connor Kent shirtless in the background. You giggled and showed Ariel how hot he is. You replied to Dick almost instantly hearting the picture, screen shotting it, and drawing a heart around Connor saying something like, "WHO DAT IN THE BACK????" and "Tell superboy to hmu".

Dick was not happy about that, that was the last group selfie he ever sent. He got more frequent with his texts after that. He must've snitched to Jason because not even five minutes after you got a text from him.

"Remember what I said. No boys, i'll kick his ass." - Jason

You ignored him of course.

The sun beat down in the south of France, but you were far from concerned with the blistering heat. Not when there was a private yacht at your disposal, a poolside filled with strangers and familiar faces alike, and the soundtrack of Drake keeping your pulse racing. You felt the vibration of your phone against your palm for the third time in ten minutes. Another text from Bruce. He was becoming more insistent you answer him the longer you were gone. It's only been two weeks! Another "where are you?" or "be careful." As if you were gonna listen. Or reply to him.

Bruce. The man who'd ignored you for the better part of your life, suddenly acting like a worried father because Tiffany, the perfect sister, had betrayed them all. Tiffany, the adopted daughter who had somehow replaced you in their world. Now, she was the enemy, the traitor, the spy, and she was gone. That meant you had all the freedom you could ever want.

The more you thought about Tiffany the angrier you got. She had everything. How many summers has she spent on yatchs partying? How many times has she blown thousands of Bruce's dollars? Why were you forgiving them so easily? Why were you even listening to him?

Just because he apologized and said he'd change?

Why should you forgive Jason so easily and respect his rules, he ignored you for years and replaced you with Tiffany. The more you drank, the more you thought and the angrier you got. Who do they think they are? You've always been too nice, too obedient, and they're still taking advantage of it. You'd show them, show them what its like to be ignored and forgotten and made fun of.

For the next two months, you were going to ignore them. Bruce and jason included. You've been too nice, too good these two weeks, your friends were begging to party but you didn't want to, you were scared of disappointing them.

You were so angry nothing changed in you that you finally caved and decided to do what Claire and Rory were doing, give your phone to a worker here and have them turn the location on and send updates to Bruce. You still used the same icloud so you could read their messages and make sure they weren't suspicous.

He'd think you were always at the villa or just going into town, they won't know what hit them.

You turn to Ariel and grin, "I'm free. What are we doing tonight?" You were done obeying their rules and living your life for them. Who knows when you'd be alone in Europe with your best friends again.

Ariel hopped off her chair and squealed, her dark skin glowing from the sun, she grabbed you and twirled you around, your giggles echoing through the yacht and drawing Claire and Rory's attention.

Ariel grinned and explained to Rory and Claire, "Little Miss good girl finally came to her senses and went M.I.A with her dad. Now we can finally party! Hot girl summer starts now."

All three girls start squealing and join Ariel in her celebration.

You rolled your eyes feeling guilty, "I told you, you could've gone without me!"

Ariel wrapped her arm around you, "Nonsense, it's not a party without you. Now, come on we gotta go shopping if we're going out tonight. It's lucky that we both have daddy's black cards. It's really lucky that they have Dior, Hermes, and YSL down the street."

You weren't sure how much you spent and the drinks kept you from feeling guilty. Bruce is like, a bajilionaire, what you spent won't make a dent.

Somehow, you ended up on an even bigger yacht filled with guys, in your brand new Dior bikini with a matching bag.

By the time night fell, the yacht was buzzing, the VIP lounge overrun by people who hadn’t even been invited. The bass was so loud you felt it in your bones. You didn’t care. You've never felt so alive.

Your new phone wasn't getting any messages except DMs, and the woman you hired confirming Bruce thought you were sound asleep in the villa.

You can practically taste the summer air as you step onto the deck of the boat, laughing with Ariel and your friends and the others you’ve met along the way. No one cares about where you’ve been, where you’re going, or who your family is.

As the DJ cranks up the volume, a cute guy with long blonde hair catches your eye. You wink at him and saunter over. This summer is all about freedom, and you’re ready for it. His hands are already on your waist, pulling you close, and suddenly you’re lost in the rhythm, spinning and laughing, his lips brushing against your ear.

The night wears on, you drink more, laugh louder, flirt harder. The yacht turns into a blur of lights, drinks, and music. As midnight rolls around, the party shows no signs of slowing. You could stay here forever, with no rules but your own.

But then it happens. You wake up in a completely different city.

London.

You’re sprawled on a plush couch in a ridiculously luxurious flat, a half-empty bottle of champagne next to you. The room smells like expensive perfume, and the decor is all sleek lines and minimalist chic. You sit up slowly, your head pounding from last night.

You sit up straighter, rubbing your eyes.You vaguely remember a private jet, but it’s all blurry. One moment, you were on the deck of the yacht, living it up, and the next, you're waking up in an entirely new country.

You look around the room in panic and spot Ariel sleeping on the couch and a random guy, butt naked on the floor next to her. You sigh in relief at Ariel being okay and the fact you weren't kidnapped.

There’s a knock at the room door, and when you answer, it's a random guy from last night, British accent, disheveled hair, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He grins at you sheepishly. “Hey, you good?”

You, Ariel, the naked boy named Christian, and the Brit named Thomas, have breakfast and exchange stories of what you remember from last night. It was fun, but you and Ariel flew back to St. Tropez where a jealous Claire and a worried Rory were waiting.

Last night was fun, but it couldn't happen again. It was dangerous and if anything happened Bruce wouldn't know.

Except it did happen again, and again, all summer long.

The next weeks were a blur, Venice, Monaco, and Madrid, with stops in Dubai and Los Angeles along the way. Each city more vibrant and intoxicating than the last. Every place you went, you had the freedom to be whoever you wanted to be. There was always a fresh crop of people, and you reveled in not having to answer to anyone. No father, no brothers, no sisters, just you and your friends against the world.

You and Ariel lived your lives like you were gonna die tomorrow. You were unstoppable, no family, no rules, no responsibility. Your abilities weren't acting up at all, everything was perfect. Bruce and the family were off your back, being made to think you were at the villa all day.

The “No Boys Rule” was completely disregarded, though. It seemed that whenever you let your guard down for just a moment, you’d end up surrounded by someone new. Whether it was a guy from a club in Monaco or a guy you met on a private yacht in Venice, you were always finding someone new

Despite all the parties, the alcohol, and the private Instagram posts, and funny Tik Toks, there was still a growing sense that you weren’t living this life for you, you were living it for the rebellion, to spite Bruce.

It wasn’t just about freedom anymore. It was about finally being seen, even if that meant drifting away from everyone you once called family.

You only had one month left of absolute freedom, and you were gonna make the most of it. With Ariel, Rory, and Claire by your side, you partied in just about every city.

The final month of your wild European escapade had arrived, and things were only getting wilder.

The clock had no meaning anymore. Days and nights blended into each other as you danced from one city to the next, your world a whirlwind of music, champagne, and endless laughter. Ariel, Rory, and Claire had become your partners in crime, literally when you got arrested, but thats not important.

Each morning you woke up in a new place, groggy and confused, only to remember the night before—flashing lights, pounding beats, and the promise of more. Cannes, Monte Carlo, Paris, or Dubai, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the freedom you’d found in them, and in yourself. You were more than the neglected, ignored girl from Gotham; now, you were the life of the party.

there was always someone waiting to whisk you away to the next nightclub, the next gala, the next beach party where the world’s richest men tried to get your attention.

First, it was Paris. You could feel the eyes on you as soon as you entered the hotel lobby. The air smelled of expensive perfume, freshly polished marble, and the faintest trace of guilt, because in some corner of your mind, you could still hear Bruce’s voice echoing in your ears. But it quickly faded as the first private yacht rolled up to the dock. The deck was crowded with Parisian socialites and half-drunk billionaires, but it wasn’t about the crowd, it was about the feeling of being wanted. Being worshipped.

It was in Paris that you really started feeling the distance between you and the life you’d left behind. The champagne flowed easily, the laughter came effortlessly, but there was an ache you hadn’t anticipated. A pang that struck at the edges of your satisfaction, the kind you couldn’t drink away.

You thought about Bruce. His pleading words, his desperation, and how, for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. But only for a moment. You couldn’t let him win. Couldn’t let them see that you’d needed them. Because that would mean giving up everything you had now, the freedom, the endless nights, the city hopping, the boys who adored you.

You let it all sink in, just for a second, how much control you had over them now. How much they wanted you back, how much they needed you back. It felt good, knowing that you could walk away and have them chase after you, like you used to chase them.

Maybe it was the brief, fleeting moments when you thought about Gotham, about Bruce, about your family, and how none of it felt real anymore. They’d played their games, ignored you, and now it was your turn.

Meanwhile, your phone was a constant buzz of messages. Tim had sent at least five texts, each one more urgent than the last. Jason called twice, his voice sharp and filled with that annoying overprotectiveness he just developed. And Bruce… well, Bruce sent you one long, pleading message, something about understanding, about giving him another chance, and answering his calls. You didn’t even bother reading it all. You didn’t need to. You didn’t care enough to respond.

You had no intention of being tied down by anyone, but when a French prince with dark, tousled hair and eyes that burned through your soul offered you a glass of champagne and a seat next to him, you took it.

You didn’t even have to look for him, he found you. He was the one with the perfect jawline, the one who could be a model if he wasn’t already a prince. His eyes, blue locked onto yours the second you entered the VIP area. A raised brow, a subtle smirk, and you knew that for tonight, he was yours.

You didn’t speak much. He didn’t ask questions, and that was the kind of energy you craved. A few words, some flirting, fleeting touches, and then you were in his Lambo, the leather seats smooth under your skin as the city sped by. He went as fast as you wanted, loving the thrill and impressed look in your eyes.

The thrill was intoxicating, the feeling of being someone else, someone free. The kind of person who didn’t have to answer to anyone. A few hours later, you were standing on a balcony, watching the sunrise, your lips tingling from the kiss he’d stolen.

Your mind was a haze of laughter and the aftertaste of expensive whiskey. The view of the French Riviera was far too beautiful to appreciate right now, and your thoughts wandered back to Gotham, to the family you’d abandoned, the ones who had never cared for you.

But as the days wore on, it was harder to ignore the hollow feeling creeping in. The message from Dick, the one where he told you that he loved you, stayed in your mind longer than it should have. You told yourself it didn’t matter. You didn’t owe him anything. But you couldn’t help but wonder, just for a second, what it would have been like if things were different.

You turned away from those thoughts quickly. You couldn’t afford to get attached. Not now. Not when you were on the verge of something bigger. The freedom you had now was everything you wanted. No one could take that from you.

You couldn’t let them control you. You wouldn’t let them.

You and Ariel were inseparable now, pulling Claire and Rory into your whirlwind of recklessness. You all had your roles, Ariel was the carefree partier, Claire the quiet one who always managed to keep ya'll out of trouble, and Rory was the one always ready with a camera and a new Tik Tok idea. You were the star, the one they all gravitated toward.

Each day was a new city, a new set of challenges, a new set of eyes who wanted to be close to you. You knew the game, knew how to play it. You knew how to keep them guessing, how to make them want you more.

So, you danced. You partied. You lived in the moment and let your life spiral further from Gotham’s grasp.

From there, it was off to the next city.

Las Vegas; Sin City, there was no place like it. You couldn’t even remember how you got there, your mind fuzzy with a mix of adrenaline and whatever was in that last glass of tequila. The strip was lit up like daylight, people everywhere, the air thick with smoke and the sound of slot machines ringing through the night.

You woke up in a penthouse suite that could have been mistaken for an entire floor of the Bellagio, the morning sunlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. And there he was, a prince. The same French prince, draped in a robe embroidered with gold thread, a fresh glass of mimosas on the table beside him. He was smirking, lounging on the couch like this was all part of his daily routine. You couldn’t even remember how you got to the suite. What had happened between the bar and now? You didn’t care.

He didn’t seem to care either, his hand casually tracing the rim of his glass, his eyes never leaving you. You laughed, feeling the surrealness of it all wash over you, the weight of your last 48 hours in Ibiza and Monaco still fresh on your skin. One minute, you were dancing at a celebrity’s secret after-party in Monaco, and the next, you were here, on the other side of the world with some mysterious prince who had probably already forgotten your name.

The rest of the night was spent taking private jet rides to exclusive clubs, partying with people whose names you couldn’t even pronounce, and waking up to the flashing lights of a casino floor. Vegas was the kind of place where everything felt fake, but that didn’t matter. You really are Brucie Wayne's daughter.

Next stop, Ibiza, the heart of Europe’s clubbing scene. Ariel and you slipped into the club, stepping past the velvet ropes like it was second nature. The security guard practically bowed as you walked by. The crowd parted for you, the clinking of champagne glasses and the hum of expensive conversations filling the air.

This was where you belonged. The heat of the island, the night that stretched into forever. You and Ariel danced on top of the table at Pacha, popping bottles like they were nothing, the music vibrating in your bones, the crowd chanting your name like you were the star of the show. It was your second night there, and you had already met a Spanish duke who was more interested in buying you a yacht than actually getting to know you. There was white powder everywhere, tempting you to try but you didn't give in. Who knows what could be in it. Your friends and most people at the club didn't share the same idea.

You just wanted to enjoy the view and keep the party going but you were worried, maybe this was too much.

“we’ve got to live for the moment,” Ariel grinned, taking a shot of something that made her eyes water. “Who cares if we’re in a foreign country surrounded by dangerous people? It’s the best kind of chaos. When else are we gonna do this?”

Somehow you ended up on a private yacht again, this time surrounded by Ibiza’s elite. You weren’t sure how many shots of tequila you’d had, but you knew that the man at your side had given you a diamond bracelet to match your dress. You accepted with a grin asking him to put it on for you, your hair wild, your makeup smudged from hours of dancing, but it didn’t matter. You were untouchable.

It was getting close to 3 AM, and the music hadn’t stopped. The drinks kept flowing, and the Duke’s yacht you somehow ended up on was finally leaving the dock. You couldn’t remember how you ended up on the boat, but you were there now, floating on a million-dollar boat with peopl you’d only seen on TV. One of the men from the night before was already making eye contact, his glass of sangria in hand.

It was hard to be shy in a setting like this. Rory, who’d never been afraid of attention, was deep in conversation with a couple of supermodels who were likely on their third or fourth drink. Claire was wrapped up in a flirtation with the duke who owned this yacht, and Arie was in her own world, laughing with a group of guys who were definitely not short on cash.

The next morning, you woke up on the yacht, the sun blazing over the Mediterranean. You stretched lazily, your body still buzzing from the night before, and found yourself face-to-face with the man from last night.

He smirked, “Care for another round?” he asked, his accent thick, the sound of the waves crashing against the boat providing an oddly peaceful background.

You laughed and agreed. It was all so easy, this life. This endless, carefree abandon. No rules, no family to answer to, no obligations. It was just you, your friends, and a bunch of gorgeous strangers who only saw you for the party girl you had become. And for now, that was enough.

Next, Monaco, the grandest of them all. You didn’t just go to Monaco, you ruled it. You, Ariel, Claire and Rory crashing the most exclusive gala in the world; rich industrialists, F1 drivers ,tech moguls, the faces that appeared on the front of every magazine. But to you, it was just another game to play. Every conversation was a carefully curated performance, everyone vying for your attention, for your approval.

The days blurred together. Each city more beautiful, each party more decadent than the last. Monaco was wild, filled with the world’s elite and their very bored children. The private yacht parties were nothing short of a movie set, jet skis, champagne, drugs, and the sun beating down relentlessly. The thrill of it all never left, and every night you found a new billionaire, actor, or race car driver to distract you. It wasn’t about them, not really, it was about keeping the power in your hands, it was about feeling good. Taking away the pain that came with your powers, fortunately, men were jumping into your bed.

You didn’t even have to try. One wink, one smile, and suddenly you were in a Bentley, whisked away to a private after-party in a hidden corner of Monaco’s coastline. The prince of some oil-rich kingdom was at your side, and the night was long, filled with laughter and stolen kisses under the stars. You didn’t care what his name was, where he came from, or who he was, he was just another prince who could buy you anything you wanted.

You met guy, almost as rich as Bruce, who you beat at poker, he was more than happy to throw a yacht party in your honor. The invitation was clear: “Come party with us. No rules. No limits.”

Ariel had already decided to make a game of seeing how many men she could flirt before sunset, while Rory was doing her usual thing, charming people with her wit. You, on the other hand, had become the center of attention, as if the whole event was designed around you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a conversation that didn’t involve someone trying to buy you a drink, or a private island.

As the weeks stretched on, you could barely keep track of all the cities you had visited. You spent one night in Berlin, dancing until dawn in one of the city’s most infamous clubs. The next, you were in Milan, draped in designer clothing and laughing with the most influential fashion people in the world. Every day felt like a new chapter, filled with new people, new parties, and a new sense of power.

It was intoxicating. Everyone loved you here, you were the life of every party. You had so many friends, you'd never be alone again.

There was something so exhilarating about being surrounded by people who knew your last name, who were used to rubbing elbows with people like Bruce Wayne, but didn’t realize you were his daughter.

You felt it in your bones now, the distance between you and Gotham was growing wider. The weight of the past, the guilt that had once threatened to crush you, was nothing more than a distant memory. Each city, each new face, each new party was a reminder that you didn’t need them. You didn’t need anyone.

But deep down, something shifted. Maybe it was the late-night conversations with Ariel on the balcony of a villa in Santorini, the wine flowing freely as you discussed the future, her dreams, your dreams, how you’d never go back to the way things were. Maybe it was the quiet moments alone on the edge of some private infinity pool, staring out at a horizon that seemed endless and just… empty.

You didn’t know when you started to feel it, but you knew one thing for sure: when you finally did come back to Gotham, you weren’t going to be the same person who had left.

The Final Stop, St. Tropez. You did a full circle. Your last hurrah before you returned home, or where your family assumed you were all this time. The private beach parties, the yachts that lined the harbor, the whispers of billionaires in their private jets. You danced in the sand, surrounded by flashes from cameras and jealous glares from women who had no idea who you were, but wanted to be you all the same.

A private villa awaited you, and there, amidst the most extravagant décor, you found yourself facing yet another prince, yet another man eager to claim you as his own.

You turned to find a prince—probably from denmark—standing next to you. You immediately recognized his face from magazines. He was the one who was always pictured at galas with his equally famous family. He was beautiful, dark-haired and dangerous, with a body like chiseled stone. But the only thing you could think about was how long it would take before you got bored of him, before you moved on to the next.

His thick accented voice cut through your thoughts, "Well, if it isn't the infamous party girl." He smirked eyeing you up and down.

"Oh, so you've heard of me" You said smiling. You had no idea how he knew you, all your socials were private and theres no way you had mutual friends. You froze for a second, just how far has your reputation proceeded you, did Bruce hear?

You brushed the thought away as soon as it came, Bruce didn't exist. Not tonight, your last actual night of freedom. Not when you were boarding the flight to gotham after tomorrow.

"Hard not to. You've been everywhere. Paris, London, Ibiza, Monaco, Dubai, Vegas. You're practically the princess of Europe." He grinned leaning closer.

After two months you were finally starting to feel the rush of it all catching up to you. But for now? Who cared? You were a 16-year-old filled with confidence, chaos, and fun. The world was yours, and there was no one who could stop you, least of all, your father, who were still clueless about your whereabouts and secretly obsessing over your every move. You were too busy living in the moment to care about that.

You were officially the European Party Girl, the one everyone wanted to be friends with, the one they all wanted to take selfies with.

Ariel once called you a prince magnet, she wasn't wrong. You woke up next to him the next morning, his strong arms around your waist.

When you went back to Gotham, you weren’t just going to show up. You were going to treat them like they treated you all these years, you were going to laugh in their faces, ignore them like they ignored you.

As you and Ariel spent your last night together packing, you couldn't help but smile. In these two months with her, you lived more than you had in your entire life.

When you boarded the plane back to Gotham, you were different. You were someone new, someone who had tasted freedom and wasn’t sure if she could ever go back. The Waynes had no idea what was coming for them, but you were ready. The game had shifted, and you were about to play it all the way to the end.

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incorrectbatfam · 1 month ago

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In 2024, I ruined everyone's year with this post talking about the batfam's ages if they were living in the same year as us. Well, get ready to have 2025 ruined too.

Depending on how old you see Damian, he could be anywhere from 9 (like in WFA) to 15 (like in the mainline comics). I'm gonna go in the middle and say he's around 12. That means he is a Gen Alpha iPad baby born in 2013, the same year we saw Catching Fire and the Doge puppy.

NOTE: in my previous post, Damian was 10 years old and born in 2014, but I've since amended it since his age is depicted as all over the place. If you want to go with 10-year-old Damian today, he would've been born in 2015, the same year Undertale came out.

If we assume Duke is around 16, then that means he is the youngest Gen Z batfam member born in 2009, the same age as songs like Boom Boom Pow and Party In The USA.

Since Tim will always be 17 against his will, in 2025 it means he would've been born in 2008, the same year Obama was elected and Breaking Bad first aired.

Steph is a little older than Tim, so let's say she's 18. That means she was born in 2007, so along with obvious stuff like the iPhone, she would be as old as Bully Maguire and Rickrolling.

Harper is a little older than Steph but they went to college together at one point, so I'll pin her age at around 21. That means she was born in 2004, when Shrek 2 was the movie of the year.

Cass and Jason were born just months apart and are written to be in their early 20s, and I used 23 in the last post so I'll do that here. That means they were born in 2002, making them the first post-9/11 batkids and the same age as the book Eragon.

Dick and Barbara are both approximately 27, so they would've been born in 1998, the same year Destiny's Child, Coldplay, and System of a Down made their first debuts.

Helena (and I think Bette too, not sure) is a little older than both Dick and Barbara, so I'm gonna put her down as around 28. That makes her the oldest Gen Z batfamily member born in 1997, the same year as the movie Titanic.

Luke is somewhere between Helena and Kate but I can't find any specifics, so I'm going with 30. That means he is the youngest millennial batfam born in 1995, when Internet Explorer and the USB were first released.

Kate is approximately a decade younger than Bruce, making her around 35. In 2025, that means she would've been born in 1990, when Home Alone was released and Yugoslavia began to break up.

Selina's age is a little iffy because different sources give different age gaps between her and Bruce, but she's younger than him and older than Kate, so I'll go with 40. Being born in 1985 means she's currently the same age as celebrities like Bruno Mars and Lana Del Rey.

Bruce is around 45, so being born in 1980 means he is the very last of Gen X and as old as The Empire Strikes Back. It also means he would've been in middle school when Nirvana went mainstream in 1991 with Smells Like Teen Spirit.

Alfred's age is ambiguously old, but I used 75 in my last post. That means he would've been the only Baby Boomer batfam born in 1950, the same year that the TV remote and credit card were invented. He would've enlisted in 1968, at the start of the Troubles.

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rizzanon · 2 months ago

Text

Ages and background info

m.list

Current timeline:

Bruce - 42

Dick - 25

Jason - 20

Cassandra - 20

Tim - 17

regressed!reader - 16

Damian - 11

Alfred - 64

Barbara - 28

Stephanie - 18

Duke - 15

sadly Duke won’t be making an appearance anytime soon because I think he only comes around in the timeline when reader is like 17/18¿? 😔

Background info (Alfred, Bruce, Dick, Barbara, Jason centered)

You don’t know who your mother is. You were left at the doorstep of Wayne Manor the moment you were born. (don’t ask how she managed to get through Wayne Manor’s cutting edge and state-of-the-art security system..) Bruce took you in and became your parent after getting a paternity test that proved that he is your father. At this time, it was Dick’s first year of being Robin.

You’d be initially taken care of by Alfred during your early years. When Bruce was busy fighting crime or with board meetings at Wayne Enterprises, it was Alfred who rocked you to sleep, tended to your needs, taught you how to read and draw. His soft and steady preference was reader’s anchor in that big, lonely manor.

Growing up, you constantly heard about your father’s brilliance—Bruce Wayne, the untouchable billionaire philanthropist, praised for his endless contributions to Gotham. The public’s expectations for you, his daughter, were impossibly high, and your every achievement was either dismissed as trivial or compared to his legendary feats.

You worked tirelessly to prove yourself worthy of the Wayne name, pouring everything into becoming the perfect daughter. But no matter how hard you tried, there were always people who’d be better than you in certain aspects, you can’t always win, can’t always get the top place. And that was the only thing the public focused on.

It hurt, but you buried the pain, telling yourself to try harder. Because that’s what it meant to be a Wayne—always striving, even when it felt like no one cared. You hoped till the very end that one day, your achievements would actually mean something to your family. To your father.

And mind you, this was before you found out your father was the Batman. And when you did, that’s when you changed trajectories and tried becoming a vigilante just like your father, like your siblings. You took up the mantle of Batgirl at 13, you trained hard, trying to hone your skills. But you weren’t meant for this life of crimefighting. You were always sidelined, and at every moment, it felt like your family was waiting for you to fail badly, so that they’d have a reason to prevent you from picking up the mask ever again. You could never be good enough, strong enough like your family. But you still pushed through, tried to prove yourself, and that was ultimately the cause of your demise.

When Dick was still in his pre-teens, I would think that he liked the idea of having a baby sister. Whenever he wasn’t off at school or out being Robin, he’d always come and play with you. But as he grew older, his teenage years, Dick would spent less and less time around the manor, and more time with his friends and the Teen Titans. He’d be consumed more and more by his missions and bonds with his teammates.

At first, you didn’t mind of course. He was your big brother. He always promised to make it up to you, he’d always promise to come back. But as the days stretched into weeks, and then months, his time spent with her became shorter, and his attention became more divided. He still loved you of course—he always tried making that clear—but his life was no longer centered around the manor, around Gotham. And by extension, that meant you too.

But that changes when you find out about your family being vigilantes. You’d feel betrayed at first upon finding out, especially because they hid this from you for so long, and if you hadn’t found out when you did, you doubt they’d even tell you.

And that makes you want to prove yourself to the family, and that’s what makes you pick up the mask and become a vigilante as well. Dick was definitely against this, and that’s what initially causes your relationship to strain with him. After all, this was when Jason had just died not too long ago. But you were adamant. With that, he did try to train you for a bit, but he ultimately ended up focusing more on Tim, who was the next Robin, and Bludhaven. He “left” you to figure out the ropes of this yourself. He was sure that Bruce or Barbara would train you.

This widens the gap between you and Dick, and at first, you ruled it off as him gaining control of his life and trying to figure out what he plans to do with his responsibilities. But then as the years go by, you notice the blatant distinction between the way he acts around you versus your other siblings.

He kept his distance from you, his interactions were friendly, but always brief. He didn’t exactly linger to check on you or talk to you after patrols. At first, you thought it was Jason’s death that was making him distant, that he was just coping in his own way. But as time went on, it felt like he didn’t see you as worth the effort. Or maybe he just thought you were fine. When he did make plans with you, most of the time, it’d get postponed, or it would slip his mind. He never really thought it was a big deal, and what made things worse was that you never pointed it out as well.

You didn’t want to confront him about this. Maybe you were just afraid to break that loose strands that was holding your relationship with him. Your bond with him. Or maybe you did not want to admit that the bond was basically non-existent.

Whereas Dick remained blissfully unaware of the way he’s treating you. Did he notice that he doesn’t spend as much time with you as he does with the others? Maybe. But did he choose to do anything about that? Not really.

Maybe one day he’ll come to realise the consequences of his actions. That maybe, he wasn’t the best big brother he could be for everyone. Dick Grayson was a man who cared about many things, a man who wore his heart on his sleeve. He was fiercely loyal, protective, and deeply committed to the people he loved—whether it was his adoptive family, his friends, or the people of Gotham. But that didn’t include you.

Dick’s commitment to his own life and responsibilities, both as Nightwing and as a person, pulled him further away from you. He was no longer the older brother who would spend hours with you, teaching you how to be better, how to be a hero. Instead, he was often wrapped up in his own struggles—focusing on Bludhaven, or dealing with the aftermath of Jason’s death. Even when he did offer advice or training, it always felt half-hearted, like he was only doing it because he had to, not because he wanted to.

There were times when you did try to approach him, to bridge the gap that had grown between you two. You wanted to confide in him, to seek his guidance and maybe find the comfort you desperately needed. But every time you tried, it was like talking to a wall. He was distant, distracted, and no matter how much you tried to show him how much you were struggling, he never seemed to truly see you.

The bitterness began to grow, and with it, resentment. Why didn’t he care about you like he used to? Why was it so easy for him to focus on everyone else while you fell to the wayside? It hurt more than you wanted to admit, especially because you still looked up to him, still wanted to be close to him the way you had when you were younger. But now, as the years went on, you realized that maybe the bond you once had was slipping away for good.

He was still the person you wanted to be, but in a way, he had moved on from you. And as much as you hated to admit it, it was easier to hide behind the mask and do things on your own. Because at least then, you wouldn’t have to face the painful truth: Dick Grayson, the brother you looked up to so much, no longer had time for you.

As for Bruce, I don’t want to make it seem like he didn’t care about you. Bruce loves his children, and I don’t want to take that trait away from him. But at the same time, you have to admit that he’s quite emotionally unavailable. From the moment you were brought into his life, Bruce is terrified. He doesn’t know if he can be a good father to raise you, especially with his line of work. And it’s not like you were like Dick. Dick was a growing boy, you were just a baby. Completely dependent on him. You were so and fragile in his arms, and he thinks you’d break if he held you any tighter.

Bruce wanted to love you the way a father should, but love didn’t come easily to him—not in the way most people understood it. His life was a constant battle, filled with shadows and danger, and the idea of bringing a child into that world felt wrong. He couldn’t protect you the way he wanted, not with Gotham always demanding more of him.

So, instead of letting himself get too close, Bruce focused on what he could control: providing for you. He made sure you had the best of everything—your education, your safety, and most importantly, Alfred.

In truth, Alfred did most of the parenting. Bruce rationalized that it was for your own good. Alfred was patient, kind, and steady in ways Bruce felt he could never be. Alfred would shield you from the darkness of the world Bruce inhabited. But deep down, Bruce knew the truth: he was keeping himself at arm’s length because he was terrified of failing you.

But with him keeping you at an arm’s length all the time, Bruce is unaware of the repercussions of his actions. That in a way, he was in fact failing you. Just, not in the way he thinks. He doesn’t necessarily realise how much of your life he’s missing. Sure, he knows he misses out on some of your events, but he tries to make up for it by gifting you more toys and clothes.

Though, that could only work for so long. By the time you were in your pre-teens, you needed more than just trivial gifts.

You needed your father.

But Bruce couldn’t see that. He never did. He only just checked in on your well-being through Alfred. And everytime Alfred tries to tell him about how you needed him in your life more, Bruce always ends up brushing it aside, claiming that you only just need Alfred.

And then comes Jason’s death. That puts a huge hole in Bruce’s heart. The death of his son is something that will haunt him forever. He vows to never fail like that again, not with anyone else he cared about. This was the whole reason why he kept his vigilante life in the dark from you. But you found out anyways. And when you did, you wanted to follow in his footsteps.

That was the last thing he wanted you to do. He tried to dissuade you from this path, but you were determined. Stubbornness was the one trait you did share with him. And eventually, he relented.

He always assigned you cases that he thought was “safe”. Cases that he knew you could handle. But everytime, you demanded more, and each time, Bruce always said no. You were his daughter, he couldn’t risk putting you in dangerous situations. He knew what you can or can’t handle. And unfortunately, that did not change over the years. He was fixated on the very fact that you weren’t cut out for this life of crime-fighting. And you never will be.

Which is why he only watches from afar, the gap between you and your father growing too far apart for any of you to try and bridge it. He only gets updates about you from Alfred, and even that was rarely asked about. And eventually, you just fade into the background, into the shadows of the family.

As for Jason, I believe there would be two parts for him. Before his death, when he was first brought into the family by Bruce, he was this small, energetic boy who had a certain sass to him. He was only 4 years older than you, and that allowed you to build a fairly close bond with him. That is, before he suddenly becomes “busy” with other stuff. Though he spent lesser time with you, he always did try and check in with you when he could. You two always read together in the library, he’d tell you all sorts of stories about Crime Alley.

But that all changed when he died. Jason’s death left a void in everyone, including you. You didn’t understand why he died, what caused his death, and you were literally heartbroken. You saw how his death destroyed your family, and you tried desperately to fix it. But nothing ever worked. Which is why you shifted your grief towards your studies, trying to make sure that you could be the perfect daughter that could fill the emptiness Jason left behind. But nothing worked. You wanted to heal, wanted to help your family move forward, but without their support, it felt impossible.

When you take up the mantle of Batgirl, part of the reason is because you wanted to honour what Jason did. His time as Robin. You thought that maybe he’d be proud of you, for stepping up and doing this. And maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to become half the hero he was.

But no, Jason was far from proud. And you only know that once he is revealed to be Red Hood years later. Jason is furious. His fury cuts deeper than you expected, not just at the fact that you’ve taken up the mantle of Batgirl, but because of the underlying betrayal he feels.

He looks at you, his younger sister, the one who was supposed to be protected, and sees someone who is willingly stepping into the very nightmare he couldn’t escape. The life that broke him, the endless cycle of violence and pain, and the years of grief and rage that had consumed him. He sees you and wonders: Why? Why would you choose this path, knowing what it did to him?

His anger isn’t just about the mantle—it’s about the idea that you’re following in his footsteps, as if you’re willing to become just like him. Worse, you’re doing it without understanding what it costs. He doesn’t want you to end up like him, as someone who can’t find redemption, who is trapped in a life of revenge. He’s already lost so much—first to the Joker, then to Bruce—and now it feels like he’s losing you too. The only family he has left.

But for you, the choice to take up the mantle was about honoring Jason. You didn’t want to replace him. You didn’t want to erase the pain he went through. But as much as you wanted to fight for the family, you couldn’t help but feel like you needed to prove yourself in a way he never had to. Your family was broken, and you thought that maybe, by stepping up, you could fix it. Maybe you could become the hero Jason never got the chance to be.

But that’s not how Jason sees it. He’s angry, and hurt, and feels betrayed—because he knows what you don’t fully understand yet. This life doesn’t fix anything. It destroys. And if you keep going down this path, you’ll end up like him—scarred, alone, and full of rage that will consume you, just like it did him.

The tension between you two becomes unbearable. The sibling bond you once shared is strained beyond repair, and Jason makes it clear that he’ll never accept you as Batgirl. He’s no longer the brother you knew—the one who once taught you how to laugh, how to stand up for yourself. Now, he’s just a stranger, a man whose hatred for the life he was brought into has twisted him into something unrecognizable. And you? You’re just another casualty of it.

No matter how much you try to explain, no matter how much you try to reach him, the gap between you two widens. He’s Red Hood, and you’re Batgirl. The two identities, both born from tragedy, will never be able to coexist peacefully. Every time you suit up, every time you fight to prove yourself, you feel the divide grow stronger. You’ve both chosen your paths, and with that choice, you’ve irreparably lost each other.

For a while, you only ever saw Barbara as the GCPD commissioner’s daughter, Dick’s friend. She had always been around, and was a frequent family friend. You never really understood why she was so deeply tied with your family until you found out the truth.

When you found out that she’d been the first Batgirl, you were amazed, and frankly, you wanted to be just like her. She, who has done so much and fought alongside your family in many battles, who has done so much to protect Gotham. Maybe this was the way for you to get close with your father and older brother. You had to prove yourself through this. That’s what you thought.

Which is why when you approached Barbara one day with the idea of being Batgirl, you expected support, encouragement, maybe even a bit of excitement. After all, she had once worn the cape and fought crime in Gotham’s shadows. But no, apparently you were getting in over your head.

Barbara’s face hardened the moment you mentioned the mantle. Her mantle. She immediately refused, telling you that it was dangerous. At first, you thought she was being protective. Jason had died not too long ago doing this, so maybe that’s why. Which is why you relented. But as she continued, you saw the weight of her words—the deep, painful truth that came from experience.

She recounted her time as Batgirl, her fight against the criminals of Gotham, and how the Joker had shattered her body and soul in a way that no physical injury could ever heal. She spoke of the night she was shot, of how she had lost everything—her mobility, her sense of security, and even a part of her identity. It wasn’t just the pain of what happened to her body—it was the mental toll of knowing that every choice she made brought her closer to losing herself.

You were taken aback, shocked by how strongly she felt. Was she really trying to stop you from becoming Batgirl? After everything she had endured, you couldn’t fathom why she wouldn’t want you to follow in her footsteps. But Barbara wasn’t just speaking from a place of worry; she was speaking from experience. She had seen firsthand how dangerous this life was, how it consumed you piece by piece, and how it left scars that would never fade.

But even as you understood her perspective, the desire to prove yourself still burned fiercely inside of you. You wanted to be more than Bruce Wayne’s daughter, more than someone who had to hide in the shadows. You wanted to stand beside your family, to help Gotham in the only way you knew how. You wanted to honour Jason for what he did for Gotham, and continue it for him. Which is why you relented, and eventually, just like everyone else, Barbara gave in. Because she knew couldn’t change your mind no matter what. Which is why she takes you on and helps with your training.

However, just like Bruce, she too only assigned you cases thst she knew you could handle. Even though Barbara had reluctantly agreed to help you become Batgirl, it was clear from the start that she wasn’t going to make it easy on you. She trained you relentlessly, teaching you the ins and outs of combat, tactics, and the stealthy finesse that Gotham’s criminals required. But even in her guidance, you could feel her hesitation. She never pushed you too far, always stopping just short of testing your limits, as though she was holding something back.

She would assign you cases, but they were always ones she knew you could handle—petty thefts, low-level gangs, the type of cases that wouldn’t put you in direct danger, that wouldn’t challenge you too much, and that she could step in and call someone else to take over if things ever went south.

At first, you didn’t mind. You were just glad to be training, to be doing something. But as time went on, the restrictions started to chafe at you. You could see how Barbara’s protective nature was keeping you in a bubble—one that was too small, one that didn’t prepare you for what Gotham truly was. You didn’t want to be stuck fighting the small-time criminals; you wanted to face the real threats, the ones that could change Gotham for the better after being dealt with.

The frustration mounted. Every time she handed you a case, every time she stopped you from pursuing something more dangerous, you felt your desire to prove yourself slipping further and further away. You knew you couldn’t keep doing this forever. Gotham was too big, the stakes too high, and you were capable of so much more. You had to break free from Barbara’s shadow, from her protective grip, and finally prove that you were ready for the challenges that came with being Batgirl—not just in name, but in action. Which is why you started doing more. Did more than you needed to, took one too many unnecessary risks.

But everything shifted when Barbara took in Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown, both taking up the mantle of Batgirl at some point. It stung. The sense of being sidelined was undeniable, and it hurt more than you had expected. Were you really that replaceable? Did you being Batgirl mean nothing?

Barbara’s training shifted with the new additions. She wasn’t the same mentor to you as she had been when you first started. She had become consumed with building Cassandra and Stephanie up, preparing them for the same Gotham streets that had torn her apart. Except, it was obvious that Barbara saw then as more capable, more stronger to take on the streets. More prepared than you’ll ever be. You were no longer her first priority. In fact, you were hardly a priority at all.

The worst part was how Barbara handled it. Instead of talking to you, explaining her choices, she just… distanced herself. There were no more long training sessions, no more subtle encouragement. Your bond, the one that had felt so strong when she first took you in, weakened and thinned, becoming strained and distant. It was as though she had replaced you with them. Maybe she had.

It wasn’t just the feeling of being replaced by two new recruits; it was the complete lack of acknowledgment of everything you had sacrificed, everything you had worked for. You had pushed through every painful night, every bruise, every tear, just to earn your place. But now, it seemed like all that hard work meant nothing. You were left alone in the shadows once again, watching as the people you cared about, the people who had once been your mentors and family, moved on without you.

The rift between you and Barbara widened with each passing day. You tried to hold on to the hope that things would change, that things would go back to how they were before. But deep down, you knew they never would. Barbara had chosen her new proteges—her Batgirls—and you were left to try to make your own way in a family that no longer felt like your own.

And as the years went by, you still held onto that mantle, and Barbara grew more distant. She checked in on you doing patrols and missions as Oracle, but that was that.

Part 2 (Tim, Cassandra, Stephanie, Damian, Duke centered)

lmk your thoughts on this because this has been on my mind for so long <33

taglist (open): @tricksters-maze @dusk-muse @quethekillerqueen @silverklaus @isupportorbitalbombardment @nxdxsworld @vanessa-boo @coffeeaddictxd @moonsbluekingdom @yuya-bubbly @percythebitchwitch @anonymousdisco @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @redsakura101 @what-0-life @idkwhattoputhete @secretyouthcomputer @witch-waycult @allycat4458 | ask to be added <3

(idk why i can’t tag some of y’all, must be your settings i think 😓)

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nikovraskol · 2 months ago

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Yk what would be crazy if past reader (16 year old version of them) got transported to the future in which they’re dead. Like imagine seeing ur kid (that you’ve neglected for so long ) just show up to your doorstep again but it’s the young version of them. Like what would be their reaction? I imagine reader just being so confused bc one minute they were at school and the next they’re being hugged by the batfam.

I love your batfam series and I honestly can’t wait to see more omlllll I love the way this is headed 🫶

thank u for this delicious request.. yall.. i've written soso many drafts for all ur requests but i dont want to overstimulate yall..its important to make sure to go at a pace your partner is comfortable with :(

masterlist

at sixteen, i imagine reader to be very nervous for the future, sixteen is two years from eighteen and i believe that they're scared that once they're a legal adult they'll no longer have any chance to be accepted -- that they'll be too old.

also, i know some goober is gonna ask so let's decide that 21 y/o (name) was able to return their 16 y/o body while 16 y/o kept their body, well, 21 y/o's body was drained of their life force and unlike jason with superboy indirectily healing him.. can we understand what im tryna say

so let's paint a picture, you're casually in school, feeling depressed because when are you not? your teacher drones on in the background as you scribble notes in your book lazily.

you're trying to drown out in your teacher one minute and then the next you're staring at the door to the manor.

oh. okay.

you're understandably a little puzzled but you brush it off, it's not the first time you've disassociated, it hadn't happened in a while but you're under a lot of stress with school and the crippling sorrow threatening to swallow you.

so you open the door, completely unaware you're walking to your doom, you step inside, your head hung low as you morosely walk in, not excited to be back in this manor of gloom and doom.

and then you hear it, a loud, absolutely offended shriek -- to which you don't look, it's not any of your business, they're probably just playing around without you, indulging in their inside jokes.

and then you're embraced, tightly, too tightly.

"what the--" you're.. being hugged? is alfred feeling alright?--

and then you see the jet-black hair you've seen countless times in passing, and then you feel the warmth of his body against yours, and then he looks up at you -- eyes wild and focused on you. only on you.

"what the fuck?" you're genuinely, so unbelievably confused. have you died? is this heaven?

"you're-- you're alive? this is real?" bruce breathes out, your father is looking at you. looking at you like you're his child, your lips tug into a thin line as you watch as the rest of the clowns join the circus.

oooh boyy.

you probably don't even notice the fact that you've switched universes at first.

like, you're so confused but also lavishing in the attention-- i mean, this is what you've wanted your whole life, right?

bruce is hanging off your every word, no longer does he brush you off or ignore you, he stares at you intently -- memorising every part of your face, every twitch of your muscles, every single detail of you, his precious child, alive in the flesh.

dick clings onto you way too much. every waking moment of the day he's by your side, sometimes he'll hug you tight, his hand gently snaking to press against the pulse point on your wrist, his eyes strangely darkened as he feels your pulse thumming against your skin.

jason is similar to dick in this scenario, the guilt from the incident weighing heavy on his mind, he doesn't let you out of his sight, he's always lingering. he's also way more protective in a smothering way, you're cooking? don't be silly, you might cut yourself! you're running around? slow down, you might fall! you're leaving the manor? why? what do you need? don't leave him, please, never again.

tim is a lot more .. atuned to your emotions. he regularly asks how you feel, at first it's more-so because he is truly glad you're back, he wants to make up for the past! but after a while, it gets to a point where it feels like you're being studied. he's just making sure you're not upset, that you're not thinking of leaving, again.

damian is downright terrifying, not in a violent way, but in a way that you're not sure how to react.. i mean, he used to be the one to belittle you the once, seeing him being so.. gentle. it's unnerving! he's almost kind to you? he'll soften his words, urge you to rest, it's .. strange. very strange.

after a while, the attention gets suffocating. very suffocating. you enjoy the attention, in fact, you've never been happier. but since coming home since that one day, you've not had a moments peace.

you wake up, someone's hovering over you. you go to eat, someone's making sure you don't choke. you're going for a walk? no, you're not.

it gets loathsome, you feel like a porcelain doll. you're not allowed any freedom, you don't go to school anymore -- anytime you bring it up you get strange looks.

that's not the only oddity. you feel different, stranger. not only are you taller, but your mind is different, and while buying something from the store, you notice an id. what? an id that says your age is twenty-one.

and another thing, alfred, the man you consider a father, is dead. dead. like, buried in the ground dead.

if you try to bring it up with your family, they share strange looks. they won't tell you, no, they want to keep you happy -- want to ignore the fact that you're not really their y/n, so don't bring it up too often. kay??

#yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #dc fanfiction #platonic batfam #platonic yandere batfam #platonic yandere #yandere bruce wayne #yandere batman #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne

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cannedinternets · 10 months ago

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Yanno, a thing i see a LOT in fics is that the Batfam think Danny is a meta, b/c ghosts don't exist. Which is valid, i mean they ARE a team of detectives with a shitton of wacky themed rogues and, at least on batman's part, a noted distaste for and disbelief in magic and the supernatural.

But bruce and tim have both worked with ghosts directly. (Maybe the others too? fuck there's a LOT of comics and animated series and-) So i think it would be much funnier if they think he's not a ghost, b/c Ghosts Don't Work That Way.

In fact, b/c Communication Is Not The Batman's Strong Suit, I think it's funny if all of them are wrong but for different reasons.

Bruce - has worked with Deadman. You can't see or interact with ghosts without magical outside intervention. Thinks Danny is a magic user who transforms a la Shazam/Captain Marvel.

Dick - Clown trauma? Mind control Trauma? One of your rogues tried to brainwash you to be his son/weapon? Damn kid you're like me if i had it even worse. Thinks Danny is a "regular" kid vigilante with a schtick.

Babs - Well the video evidence she can find deffo lines up with him being a super, but there's a hardcore blackout around his town, he doesn't legally exist, AND any outside info she runs into is usually cutoff by someone (tucker or technus depending), AND he's mentioned cloning. So he's probably a designer "cloned" (ugh dc that's not how cloning works) meta kid that's being taken advantage of by the government and/or cadmus.

Cass - Thinks Danny is a terrible liar (true) who is counting on the refuge in audacity to keep people from realizing what he is (also true). Thinks he's someone who got themed meta powers in a lab accident and is playing up the ghost thing b/c he fights ghosts constantly.

Jason - Glowing green eyes? Ability to manifest green constructs that look like they're made of goo? Constant death jokes? Aww, this dude is just another me but he is also a meta/somehow got anime girl powers out of getting dunked in the lazarus pits.

Tim - worked with Secret. Ghosts can fly, shapeshift, go intangible, teleport, posses people. Thinks phantom is an actual ghost that is possessing/overshadowing Danny, possibly consensually? He's looking into it. Ironically, is the closest to the truth.

Steph - Hasn't seen Danny do anything that the other bats can't do, and HAS seen him work on an engineering project for 16 hours straight. Thinks Danny is something like the bats, either under-powered or completely non-powered and makes up for it with tech and mystique. Also thinks Danny is a great ally in gremlinship.

Duke - his Ghost Sight does NOT play well with ghosts, ironically. Thinks Danny is some sort of eldritch horror with a human guise. He seems cool tho, Duke isn't gonna judge someone based on looks even if they do give him migraines.

Damian - thinks that Danny is a Pit Demon and you are all insane.

Jarro - thinks Danny is a Green Martian. Also thinks Danny is awesome.

#dpxdc #danny phantom #batfam

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mokulule · 8 months ago

Text

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 16

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Part 16:

Jason carefully kept his writing legible as he wrote down the heating instructions. Considering Ghost seemed to be living off granola bars he was not taking any chances.

There were signs Ghost had returned a few times. The bag and calibrator was gone of course, and the sandwiches were disappearing. It wasn’t good enough. Ghost needed more than sandwiches, it was better than living solely on granola bars, but it was not enough. He needed something more energy dense - hence the meat and vegetable stew and the mashed potatoes he’d made, packed in portions for easy reheating. But he had to make sure it was easy, he didn’t want to risk it being too bothersome and him not eating any.

Slowly, deliberately he put the pen down so he didn’t break it and laid his hands down flat on the kitchen island. Jason was in control, not the pits. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting the seconds…

…seven… eight…

Carefully he pushed the voice away that insisted he just lay a trap instead of all this tip-toeing around. It would be all too easy, Tim had found out how to short-circuit his powers. It hadn’t lasted more than an hour or two, but really there was no reason they couldn’t just attach some sort of device to him and repeat the small EMP charge every hour - it would be easy.

It would be horrible.

It was not how Jason wanted to go about it. Fucking Pits. Fucking intrusive thoughts. He hung his head taking deep breaths. He just wanted a little bit of peace of mind, was that too much to ask?

A half-choked gasp sounded behind him and he spun around wide-eyed. There, across the living room section of the open plan apartment was Ghost halfway through the far wall. His eyes were wide and looked as shocked as Jason felt.

Jason didn’t dare breathe as he slowly raised his empty hands. One wrong move and he could ruin everything. He swallowed dryly and ever so slowly he stepped to the side around the kitchen island and backwards, away from Ghost, deeper into the kitchen, cornering himself, leaving all exits free - even if Ghost didn’t technically need any. Ghost followed his movements warily only moving his head, his body completely frozen, still only halfway through the wall.

Jason’s back hit the cupboards. It was as far as he could remove himself. It was all he could do. The ball was in Ghost’s court.

Please don’t run.

Jason didn’t think he could handle that one more time.

Oo o oO

Danny kept his eyes locked on the currently helmet-less not ghost. His heart rabbited in his chest and his whole body felt coiled like a spring, torn between running or going forward. He was terrified, but he also yearned-

Danny had become complacent. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but he cursed himself for it now. He’d just moved thoughtlessly through the wall and his ghost sense had only had time to warn him when his eyes could do just as well. The barely there mist had fizzled uselessly out of his mouth when he gasped.

Helmet moved carefully away from Danny, as far away as he could in the kitchen. His hands were raised as if in surrender. He looked as harmless as a six foot tank could, which to be fair, it wasn’t the size of the man, that scared Danny. No, it was the fact that his entire body screamed trap. Danny was not keen on a repeat of his powers being gone, and the risk, the knowledge of it, it threatened to tear apart his painstakingly assembled composure.

Red Helmet might have taken him away from the other vigilantes, but he was still one of them. Danny just could not let himself trust him and it hurt, deeper than his still fucked up ribs. It hurt just to keep his core in a chokehold to stop it from calling to him. Never mind the near irresistable longing; Danny wanted so badly to go to him.

Danny couldn’t let himself.

Yet it was Helmet, not Danny, cornered right now. Caught in the act of something at the kitchen island. There was a small piece of paper on the island and Danny was curious.

And there were also still so many unanswered questions. How could he hear Danny but not respond? What was that thing about the anger he’d mentioned? Why had he given Danny back his backpack and the spectral calibrator? The calibrator in particular, because that one strictly speaking didn’t belong to Danny. Why was he stocking up food in an apartment he clearly didn’t live in? For Danny?

All were questions he couldn’t get answers to by running away.

Danny just had to keep his instincts on a tight leash.

Watching warily for any sudden movements, Danny slowly phased the rest of the way into the apartment. His beat up sneakers barely made a sound as he touched down on the wooden floors, but still Danny flinched.

Their eyes met and both held their breath.

Helmet looked away first. In fact he pointedly looked anywhere but at Danny now, seemed very intent on studying the counter now picking at non-existent dirt.

Somehow him not looking made it easier to walk closer and he carefully did. There was a whole kitchen island between them - that had to be enough for Danny’s paranoia.

He now stood where Helmet had stood when he came through the wall, he could pick up the paper.

It was heating instructions - for him.

His resolve crumbled and the paper crinkled as he clutched it like his life depended on it. Such a little detail. Not just the food left here, but instructions. When was the last time anyone had cared like this?

“Why-” His voice broke and tears prickled at his eyes. He cleared his throat and swallowed before trying again. “Why are you doing this?”

He looked from Danny to the note in his hand, seemed to mentally discard something, before admitting quietly, “I know what starving is like.”

Danny balked. “I eat.”

“I took a backpack full of protein bars off you.”

Danny grimaced. Just eating the sandwiches left for him here had been a vast improvement. So what if he didn’t eat well, he ate enough to survive. The fact that Danny could cling to existence through force of will was something he didn’t want to examine - his human half was still alive that had to be what mattered.

“So this anger thing,” Danny forcefully changed the subject like a bull bursting into a China shop, “tell me about it.”

Helmet tensed and that in turn made Danny tense. He might have overstepped. The moment was long and drawn out as Danny waited for the other shoe to drop. Slowly, Helmet let out a long sigh and forcefully relaxed his body. It didn’t put Danny entirely at ease, but it helped.

“There’s not much to tell,” he faked at nonchalance but there was something tightly leashed in his voice.

Danny didn’t buy it for one second. “Try again.”

There was a grimace and it looked almost like there was some sort of internal fight going on, until eventually he spoke.

“I got exposed to some nasty shit, ever since then I’ve had anger issues. I only realized once they were gone how pervasive they were.”

He looked away.

“I have hurt people - killed people - I thought they deserved it, but I’m not so sure anymore, not for all of them.” And there was pain there, in his voice, in his face, this was a hard thing to admit, not just to himself, but out loud to someone else.

Danny’s heart ached for him. The silence stretched between them and Danny prompted gently, hesitantly, because he didn’t understand this part himself: “And I make it better?”

“For about two days, give or take.” There was an affected casualness in the tone, but Danny noticed the way his hands clenched into tight fists. It had been about two weeks since Danny had last been in a room with the man. Two weeks since Danny had had any physical contact. He harshly clamped down the projection of longing before it could escape his grasp.

It was, Danny realized, no wonder that Helmet had chased him so vehemently. He could not only hear Danny’s call for him, but he had something of his own he struggled with. Something that Danny could apparently do something about, or rather his core song, if Danny was putting the pieces together right.

But Helmet wasn’t chasing now. It must have been two torturous weeks.

“You have found a way to nullify my powers, why not just use that?”

Helmet’s jaw clenched. “It’s not exactly nice.”

“Didn’t stop you two weeks ago.”

“I had nothing to do with that!” He snarled taking a step forward eyes glowing ectoplasmic green.

Danny took a step back at once cautious and intrigued. Not a ghost, but definitely something.

It looked like it took great effort, but he stepped back, plastered himself back against the cupboard and his eyes were blue again. Softly, he whispered “I only ever wanted answers.”

He wanted help. Danny’s breath caught. He was asking Danny for help, even if it wasn’t in those specific words. Danny looked down at the handwritten note in his hand. Helmet hadn’t planned for meeting today. He’d been just as shocked as Danny. He’d written him instructions with no guarantee Danny would ever help him, despite struggling with this anger.

Danny did not owe him anything, Danny was not beholden to anyone in this dimension, but he was asking for help.

Danny hesitantly stepped around the counter.

Mentally he countered each argument for why this was stupid.

He took a step forward. There was no trap. Danny chose to believe him when he said he didn’t want to use whatever device that had been on him.

Danny took another step forward, and step after step until he was right in front of him. Danny didn’t look up to see whatever expression may be on his face, it was easier like this standing face to chest. And it was a nice chest, wearing a red henley worn soft and fuzzy through countless washes. It was easy to take the last step into his space and lean his forehead forward to rest against him.

It was harder to let go of the tight ball he’d pulled his emotions into.

“Can I?” Helmet asked, arms hovering slightly away from him.

“Yeah,” Danny replied hoarsely, and then arms settled around him hesitantly, warm, human - not tight or trapping him, it was considerate but not what Danny needed. A wounded sound left his chest and he pressed closer. He clenched his eyes shut but still tears ran wet tracks down his cheeks as he finally gave in - let go.

His core was a cacophony of grief warring with happiness. Melancholy and joy twisting and churning neither one really winning. Danny was so tired and worn he couldn’t focus on what he should feel. All this and maybe he couldn’t even help him?

If he couldn’t get the happiness going what use was he?

But then the arms tightened around him and it was a proper hug. He was being held. There was a hand in his hair tugging him into the crook of Helmet’s neck, as he bent slightly over to surround him. Danny’s forehead against the crook of his neck, skin again skin. A warm body. A fast heartbeat in his ears.

He was not alone.

His core thrummed with the knowledge.

Danny lost time.

It was terrifying. It could have five minutes or an hour that they stood there for all Danny knew. He had been so lost in the warmth of human contact and the content song of his core.

A shiver of fear went up his spine and he tensed.

Last time he had fallen asleep. That, he could at least understand. He’d been extremely exhausted after everything that happened. But this was different. Danny didn’t even know if he would have noticed Helmet moving him - he hadn’t; they still stood in the exact same spot.

He made to draw away and for one heart-stopping fraction of a second, Danny thought Helmet wouldn’t let him go. But that was uncharitable, he had to give Helmet time to even realize what he was doing. Just cause Danny’s brain was running a mile a minute, and a second seemed like an eternity, didn’t mean it was to anyone else - and Helmet did let him slide out of his arms. Danny looked up, eyes just a bit wide. He was trying to stay calm, he was. He didn’t know how to interpret Helmet’s expression. His eyes met Danny’s, his brows were doing something, his mouth was a line downturned at the corners. His arms were raised, drawn back just slightly after Danny slipped away.

Danny took another step back.

Helmet didn’t move. Danny realized suddenly what the expression was; he looked sad.

Danny’s core pulsed painfully, and his breath stuttered. He wanted to go back to that embrace, he wanted to stay and forget everything else.

It was all he could do not to run, because those feelings were terrifying in and of themselves. He turned and he carefully walked to the far wall. He stopped there, clenched his trembling hands. His eyes trailed an uneven line on the white wallpaper.

This wasn’t just about him.

“The day after tomorrow,” he said, loud enough he was sure Helmet could hear him. Then he couldn’t hold back anymore and he threw himself through the wall. His heart raced in his chest all the way back to his lair.

It went against every cautious bone in his body to reveal he’d be somewhere at a specific time, even such a vague promise as the day after tomorrow. It was as much as he could get himself to do.

It wasn’t just about him.

Alright and that's probably it for the rapid updates, this part mostly needed edits to fit better with what actually ended up happening in the earlier parts and I hadn't written the ending, I wasn't sure I'd get the time today, but I did so, tadaa!

Things are going better! It's not all misery anymore.

Danny wasn't quite this terrified early in the story, but then he felt relatively safe in his ability to get out of situations. Having his powers knocked out, really brought up a boatload of trauma. It's just also really making him out of sorts to be that at odds with his core.

I hope it makes sense.

#dp x dc #dead on main #Jason is catnip to Danny #missed connections

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