#AdoptedByArtClub

[misakiisstupid]

Damian Wayne and the Unstoppable Art Club Adoption™

Let’s be clear here: Damian Wayne is not a people person. Not even close. He’s a trained assassin, a gifted martial artist, and a son of the Bat. His social skills are basically non-existent, his patience with others is razor-thin, and he doesn’t do the whole “friendship” thing. Nope. Not his scene.

But you know what’s worse than trying to make friends? Being really good at something and having people latch onto you for that thing like an unbreakable vice grip. And that’s exactly what happens when Damian accidentally joins the most chaotic, unfiltered group of misfits—Art Club.

It all started on a random Tuesday. Damian, in his usual “I hate everything and everyone” mood, decided to doodle in the back of his history notebook because, well, he couldn’t concentrate. This wasn’t some generic, half-hearted sketch either. No, this was Damian Wayne-level talent. Intricate, beautiful, dark, and emotionally charged. The kind of thing that would make anyone who looked at it go, "Wow, that’s... that’s actually incredible."

Enter the Art Club.

A bunch of eccentric, weirdly enthusiastic high schoolers who live, breathe, and bleed art. They don’t care that Damian’s a billionaire’s kid. They don’t care that he’s the child of Gotham’s biggest crime-fighting family. They don’t care that he looks like a miniature Bat and always walks around like he’s perpetually irritated. Nope. All they care about is the fact that this kid can draw like his life depends on it.

One of them, an overly enthusiastic girl with brightly colored hair and way too much energy, peers over his shoulder as Damian’s scribbling away.

Art Club Girl: "Whoa. This is amazing! Like, amazing amazing. You’re one of us now."

Damian, barely looking up from his sketch, mutters under his breath: “I don’t know who you are, but I don’t want to—”

Art Club Girl (interrupting): “Nope. Too late. You’re ours now. Art Club rules. You draw, you’re in. Simple as that.”

Before Damian can even process what just happened, she's already dragging him across the room.

“What are you doing?! I don’t want—”

“Too bad, you’re coming with us!” she says, practically beaming. And that’s how Damian Wayne—the Damian Wayne—ends up getting kidnapped by a bunch of weirdly artsy teenagers who are completely immune to his “I hate everything and everyone” aura.

It doesn’t matter how many times Damian glares at them or threatens to punch someone in the face. Art Club is persistent. They drag him to their meetings. They invite him to all their random after-school creative activities (which always seem to involve a lot of glitter, paint, and weirdly chaotic energy). They give him the space to draw, but also force him to hang out with them.

One day, after the most intense art critique session (in which Damian had drawn a somber portrait of a wolf, looking tragically lonely), they all decide to do an impromptu after-school outing.

Art Club Leader (a guy with a mohawk and an apron full of paint): “Hey, Damian, time to go! We’re hitting the skate park to paint some cool murals—get your stuff!”

Damian tries to resist, tries to glare them all into submission, but it’s no use. The moment the word “skate park” is mentioned, Art Club pulls up in a beat-up van, full of spray paint cans and snacks, and they just drag him along like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Damian, fists clenched, glaring out the window as they head toward their destination, thinks to himself, I will never forgive any of you for this.

But it’s too late. They’re all too in his face, too bright, too cheerful, and too insistent. Art Club doesn’t let him sulk or sit on the sidelines. No, no—they demand his presence.

And when Damian tries to slip away for some “training” or “superhero business” (because surely being an assassin is way more important than this), Art Club doesn’t even flinch.

They just show up at the Wayne Manor, walk right past Alfred like it’s nothing, cheerfully wave goodbye to the dumbfounded Batfamily members who are watching, and then cart Damian away like a loyal, unwilling puppy.

Dick: “Uh, Damian? You’re—”

Art Club Girl: “Bye, Bruce’s kid! We’re just taking him to the art studio to make some murals!”

Jason (whispering to Tim): “Okay, I just—what the hell?”

Tim (staring in disbelief): “How is this a thing?!”

“Hey, where’s Damian?” Bruce asks as he strolls into the room.

“He’s with the Art Club. They took him.”

Bruce blinks, utterly confused. “...The what?”

Dick (sighing deeply): “It’s best you don’t ask.”

The Unavoidable Conclusion:

Damian Wayne might’ve thought he could escape the unrelenting force that is Art Club, but he was wrong. They are persistent. They are everywhere. They are immune to his glare, his threats, and his all-encompassing “I’m too cool for you” vibe. They have adopted him into their chaotic fold, and he is absolutely stuck.

Whether it’s painting murals, attending art exhibits, or even just having random existential debates over coffee (which usually ends with Damian scowling at the fact that they are asking deep questions while covered in paint), there’s no escape for him.

And if he tries to leave? They’ll just drag him back.

Because in the end, Damian Wayne may be an assassin, but he’s no match for the sheer power of an art club that knows how to love a brooding artist whether he likes it or not.