#BRUCE WAYNE IS A GOOD DAD WHY DID THEY WRITE HIM LIKE THAT

[lesbian-cowpoke]

Things I will never forgive DC for in the new 52:

Any Batman storyline, really. (Especially Forever Evil, anything past Rebirth, especially especially the marriage and Bane storylines) (I suppose I can forgive Endgame bcs it gave us Duke)

RIC GRAYSON

Retconning the Arrow Family

ALFRED'S DEATH

THEY TOOK AWAY JASON'S GUNS

Heros in Crisis

The aging up of Jon Kent (and essentially losing the great amazing super sons dynamic)

[bluerosefox]

GHOSTS WITH HEARTBEATS

When Jason had been going to Gotham Academy, he had (for a good reputation for the media and to help him catch up on his penmanship, remember he had been on the streets and dropped out of school before getting picked up by Bruce for a while) signed up for a penpal project for 'less privileged people' to write to.

(Although Jason was annoyed the penpal project stayed within the states and only selected a middle of nowhere town, he knew the Richie Rich Elites would never subjugate their 'Heirs' to actual kids in need of learning how to read and write)

But Jason didn't mind his penpal.

Danny Fenton was a riot to talk, err write to in all honestly.

From his dry punny humor (and boy can he give even Dick a run for his money in the pun department but hey using some of them actually got Dick to warm up to him a few missions ago) and death jokes so many death jokes, to his nerdy love for space Jason enjoyed writing to Danny.

Even the short stories he would write about a ghost kid protecting a small town from other ghosts was interesting to read. He really liked the different kinds of ghosts there could be. Granted some seemed very OP like that Clockwork dude.

Jason liked writing to Danny, and even after the penpal project was over they had plans to keep sending letters, maybe even exchange numbers soon...

But then he died by the hands of the Joker.

The letters leaving Wayne Manor may had decreased but the letters being sent never did or at least until a few years ago.

Then Jason somehow returned to the land of the living.

Got taken by the LoA, tossed in the green waters and turned into their Pit Raged weapon for a while before leaving them behind and setting out for his revenge against the Joker and to force B's hand.

And becoming a Crime Boss for a while too. Can't forget that.

Point being with all this going on, the old warm memories of exchanging letters with Danny Fenton was pushed into the back of his mind and forgotten about for a while.

It isn't until one afternoon at Wayne Manor that while roughhousing with Dick, who had Jason in a brotherly headlock as they walked down a hall to one of the sitting rooms, that while Jason had slipped out of Dick's hold had stumbled into a hallway desk that had a few things on the top of it, one of the things being a small box that tumbled off when Jason hit it.

The box lid opened and out of it spilled out a good number of letters.

"Shiii-p, dang it Dick!" Jason said when he looked at the mess he accidentally made and stopped himself from swearing, the place might be named Wayne Manor but everyone knew this was Alfie's domain and no swearing was a rule within his halls.

Dick only laughed and teased only in a way a sibling can do "Hey not my fault your as big as a tank Jaybird! We should get you some caution signals if you keep bumping into things!"

Jason flipped him his favorite finger, thankfully Alfred only knew when they swore thus it did not summon him, and bent down to the letters.

His hands froze when he recognized the hand writing and the address it was sent from.

"From: Danny Fent Nightingale

Amity Park, IL"

To: Jason Todd-Wayne

Gotham City, NJ.

Wayne Manor"

And when Jason opened the letter. He really wasn't expecting what was written inside.

"Jason.

I'm finally leaving Amity Park. I can't be there anymore, not after everything. I'm too tired, and emotionally hurt. Everything is just to much. And I can't keep doing this to myself. My parents still can’t understand there is nothing ‘wrong’ with me or why I refuse to let them take care of Ellie, I refuse to let her live the way Jazz and I did, Jazz has to much on her plate already with her own life and college but she’s been hounding me to reach out to mom and dad, Sam refuses to listen to me when I tell her I want to be more than ‘Phantom’ in Amity Park, and Tucker is so busy trying to get into a good college and job we barely have time to talk nowadays. And don’t get me started on Vlad, that fruitloop’s been breathing down my neck since Ellie’s deaging.

Despite how much of a hellhole you like to call it, I think Gotham might be my, no mine and Ellie’s best bet of living some kind of life, especially now since the whole deaging she had to go through, she needs an ectoplasm rich city as well and since she has no actual papers because she was my clone and I remember you saying Gotham has people who can create new identities and-

I’m rambling again, to letter you again. I really need to stop it.

I can’t keep pretending you’re going to read these.

I know you’ll never read these. You’re gone. I can’t even find you in the Realms no matter where I look.

I’m sorry. For using you as, well, a way to vent my life for last couple of years. I shouldn’t had done it but it helped me.

Believing my friend was still alive and getting my letters I mean.

Again I’m sorry.

This will be my last letter to your ghost, pun unintended.

Goodbye Jason. Wish us luck in your city.

-Danny Fen-Nightingale...."

The sent date on the letter was roughly eight years ago.

[strangersteddierthings]

Childhood friends AU Idea

Steve and Eddie are best friends who make plans to learn the elvish alphabet from The Hobbit so that they can pass notes without worrying about other people reading them.

The end of the school year (Eddie in 6th, Steve in 5th) brings a sadness to the two. Eddie's going to middle school and Steve's not yet, but they can hang out on weekends, and they have all summer so no worries. (Also, it gives Steve a little more time to learn elvish, since it'll be a whole year until they're in the same school again.)

Except yes worries because two weeks into summer, Eddie vanishes. When Steve bikes to his house to investigate, the whole house is empty. Packed up and gone. Steve goes to Wayne for answer and all he gets is a smile that doesn't really reassure and words of "his dad got a job opportunity, had to move on short notice. But don't worry, kiddo. I'll get you the number to their new place so you can call."

He learns elvish anyway. It's harder without Eddie to help but he's determined. Eddie might return, or maybe he'll get an address one day. Send a letter to Eddie in full Elvish.

Steve never gets a number or address. Summer ends and sixth grade comes. He doesn't want to forget all the elvish he's learned, just in case. So, he decides to keep a journal. He can write all about everything that's happening and when he sees Eddie, he can give it to him. It's a double win. Eddie will know everything he's missed out on AND it'll help Steve practice elvish.

Sixth grade ends. Eddie doesn't return. Steve did make friends with Carol Perkins though, so he's not as lonely. He hopes Eddie made a new friend, too. But not a new best friend. That's Steve's position, always.

Seventh grade brings Tommy Hagan, but still no Eddie. It brings a growth spurt and sports. Steve likes the easy camaraderie that comes with sports teams. It's like having a lot of friends, which Steve will only admit to needing in his journal. Needing many little connections of friendship to hold together the big hole Eddie left behind.

The summer between seventh and eighth grade brings him a Bruce Springsteen concert. He'd never thought of a boy kissing another boy until he'd witnessed it on stage but he thinks about it a lot after. The end of that summer brings an awaken he refuses to shy away from even if he has to hide it

Eighth grade brings popularity. Steve's good looking, rich, and liked among his peers. It brings the first (and last) time his dad says he's proud of him.

(Steve will spend the rest of his high school career chasing his father's approval.)

Freshman year brings Eddie back, but he's different. His hair is longer and his clothes are darker and he's distant. Defiant and angry. Steve would recognize him anywhere, dressed in anyway.

Eddie doesn't want his friendship anymore. Avoids him in the halls and cafeteria, but Steve is nothing if not persistent. He writes a full letter in elvish to slip into Eddie's locker, but Eddie catches him. Shoves the letter back, unopened, unread, with a harsh whispered, "Don't you get it Harrington? I don't want to be your friend. Fuck off."

Steve doesn't understand why. Not until the table top rants start. Conformity and jocks and brain-dead rich kids who get by on favoritism.

It hurts. Steve feels his heart break the day he finally gets the not-so-subtle messages drilled into his mind. Eddie hates sports, and rich people, and stupid people. Eddie hates all the things that Steve is.

Eddie hates him.

Sophomore year brings Steve a lot of things. It brings the acknowledgment that he was probably in love with Eddie, the way his heart twists the day he sees Eddie flirting with a girl in the hallway, the way he wants the lights out when hooking up with someone so he can imagine a different person pressed against him, the way he gravitates towards brunettes with brown eyes and the flickering hope it might make Eddie jealous. (The way he'd said the wrong name when Brent went down on him, too absorbed in the fantasy of someone else to get it right. Brent hadn't been offended by it, he'd been thinking of someone else, too. Steve finds solidarity for a little bit, until the school year ends and Brent leaves Hawkins.)

Junior year turns Steve's life upside down (pun intended) with monster's coming out of walls. There's probably a lot more he should write about but his journal's pretty empty this year. Too traumatized to document. (Too afraid of what Eddie would say because Steve still writes in his journal like he plans on sending it to Eddie one day. Better to write nothing than sound crazy.)

And halfway through his senior year (don't think about how he's in it with Eddie, about the 4 classes they share, about how Eddie still won't meet his eye) he wants to fade into the background. Nancy and he break up. She's with Jonathan and he hears the whispers of how pathetic he is to be eating lunch with his ex and the guy that 'stole' her. Steve knows that's a lie, Nancy made her choice, and no one can say otherwise, but it hurts to hear. He can't be bothered to try and make new friends. How would he explain the nightmares? The skittishness. The fear of the dark, of pumpkin patches, of his own damn pool now that he's had time to process last year?

Then, the next year brings him Robin. Well. First it brings him an embarrassing uniform and then Russian torture (don't think about it. Don't think about how he'll shorthand the stock list by writing it in Elvish sometimes. Don't think about how the Russian's almost believe they just work for Scoops until they find the stock list in his pocket. Don't think about how they don't believe that the strange script they can't identify isn't proof he's a spy), but in the end he gets Robin. A Platonic Soulmate who understands the hidden side of him. She asked if he was ever in love, and he thinks of the Eddie he used to know, longs to know again, and describes her instead. She rejects him in the softest way possible and then confesses about Tammy, and he confesses about Eddie in turn.

1986 brings Eddie back into his life in the worst way possible. With a bottle to his neck and them both acting like they've never spoken before. It brings twisting guts as Steve lies awake thinking about Eddie alone in a boathouse instead of sharing a bed with him like they used to in elementary school. It brings Steve leading them to Skull Rock (popularized as a make out spot but started as a set of boys' favorite place to play pirates during the summer). Dustin and Eddie make references Steve pretends to not know, despite his own copies of The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings and the numerous amounts of notebooks turned journals with elvish scrawled throughout.

There's a trek through the Upside Down. In another universe, Steve imagines he and Eddie talk. In this one, Robin sticks to his side like an extension of him (which she is), and glares at Eddie every time he looks in Steve's direction. Robin knows everything, knows it all, because there are no secrets between them.

They make plans to stop Vecna, once and for all, and Robin confesses she has a fear. That it won't turn out okay this time, but they have to try anyway. Steve clinks his bottle against hers and looks across the field to Eddie and Dustin. The stakes feel so much higher this time.

"I'm going to talk to Eddie if we survive. Make it right," he says.

"No. He's going to make it right because you didn't do anything wrong," Robin says, which is more support than he thought he'd get given the grudge she holds in his favor.

Eddie said make him pay and Steve does. Nancy advances, shotgun shot after shot and Steve's bounding down the stairs. Vecna beats him to the ground floor but not by much.

A hatchet's not the best tool to remove a head with but he manages. When he looks up, Nancy and Robin are looking down, both approving.

They find Dustin sobbing over Eddie and- and-

Steve's certain he's broken several of Eddie's ribs but he's breathing again, Nancy finds his pulse beneath all the blood, and Robin's retrieved the cut sheets to make bandages out of. Nothing is clean in this world, infection could kill him later, he might not save Eddie like he wants, but fucking Christ, at least if death claims him, it'll be on the right side of the world in a hospital.

Dustin, Robin, and Steve are at Eddie's side when Nancy leads Wayne into the room. They knew she went out looking for him (Steve was going to but Nancy had shoved him back in the chair with a look that left no room for argument) but even so they're startled by him.

Wayne has always been stoic and reserved, so it's no surprise to Steve when he just lets out a low whistle and says, "of all the people I might see here, you weren't one of 'em."

Steve swallows thickly and says, "well. I am. Here, I mean."

And Wayne gives him a watery smile and crosses the room. Pulls Steve into a hug that Steve thinks he probably wants to give to Eddie instead, but Eddie's not awake and standing and Steve is. But then Wayne says, "I told Eddie he couldn' chase ya away. That if he just talked to ya, you'd understand. He tried so hard to make ya hate him, and for what? For ya to be at his bedside anyway."

And Steve sobs. Loud and ugly and suddenly Dustin's there, and so are Robin and Nancy, and it's probably the most awkward hug for all the others but it's the best hug Steve's had in years. He doesn't even care that he's crying because how can he? Wayne's all but confirmed that Eddie doesn't hate him, maybe never hated him. That Eddie has an explanation, a reason for it all, and all he wants is Eddie to wake up and tell him.

Steve finally gets his apology two days after Eddie's release. It's the first time they've been alone together since- well, since elementary school. Wayne drove him here then lied about needing to check on something and said he'd be back in an hour or so before abandoned them to the awkward silence in Steve's living room.

"I'm sorry, Steve!" Eddie blurts out loudly, then looks startled by his own yelling.

"I know. I forgive you."

"You shouldn't."

"I know. Still do anyway. Would like to know what happened, though."

And Eddie tells him. How his father's debts came calling and they ran. How his mom got sick real fast, and his father's crime spree and prison sentence following her passing. How Eddie discovered the same thing about himself that Steve did but didn't have the same acceptance of himself. Hated that another thing marked him as Other. Freak.

He tells Steve how he couldn't let Steve back in because he was afraid of losing him again if he ever learned.

"I didn't think you'd be okay being friends with a faggot," Eddie spits the word out, dirty and mean and directed at himself.

Steve makes a decision then. "Follow me." And he helps Eddie up the stairs and into his room. Eddie sits on the bed and watches as Steve digs out notebook after notebook after notebook, until they're a tower on his bed. Then he topples them over in his search for the first.

Eddie takes the offered notebook with confusion on his face, looking from the cover, where 1978 is written on it. The summer Eddie vanished from Steve's life.

"Open it."

Eddie does and gasps. "Steve. Is this-"

"Every single one of these notebooks was written to you. For you. About you. I read The Hobbit for you. The Lord of the Rings. I learned elvish for you. I think I've been a little bit in love with you since the day we met on the playground on my second day of first grade."

"Steve," it comes out breathless and awed.

"Eddie," Steve repeats back to him, just as breathless as Eddie tosses the notebook aside and reaches for Steve instead. Hauls him in to kiss him senseless amongst the proof of Steve's devotion.

[starry-bi-sky]

Hello Starry! I just had a thought about your Danyal al Ghul AU, and didn't have anyone else to share it with, so here we go:

If in this universe Bruce is Jewish, and Danny knows this(probably from a google search), he may wear a Star of David necklace to have a piece of his father with him at all times, since he knows he will never get to meet him. Or maybe the necklace sits in a box under a floorboard, because he can't stand the constant reminder of the father he'll never get to have. Maybe he observes Sam and her family celebrate Jewish holidays, or he learns how to by himself, but uses the time to mourn, instead of celebrate.

Anyways, hope all is well, and thank you for sharing your writing!

AAHHHH??? YOUR BRAIN??? Thank you!! I love sharing my writing, it soothes my need for attention lol. lmao, even. (Also how did you know i was thinking of my danyal al ghul au today -- i have an unfinished draft that i was thinking of delving into after my work meeting) also aahh!!!!!!!! im so happy that you wanted to share your thoughts with me about it <333

But dude BOTH of these ideas are soo?? GOOD and ANGSTY. I love angsty. Danny would for sure know if Bruce was Jewish, lil guy did an obsessive amount of research on his dad the moment he got his hands on a computer and figured out how they worked. Danny has like, a three inch thick folder almost on his father alone. Anything he could get his hands on, he's got it. That thickness is almost exclusively from his first like, six months in Amity Park. He keeps it in a box in his closet, along with his growing-folder on Damian and his achievements as Damian Wayne. He pages through it when he's feeling like mourning.

First off: him wearing a Star of David necklace to feel connected to Bruce. That is SO sad and I love it so much. He bought it with an allowance he'd been given when he first started living with the Fentons, he keeps it tucked under his shirt so nobody even knows he has it. Sam and Tucker don't until it slips out while he's hanging out with them and when they ask him about it, Danny very reluctantly tells them that his father is Jewish. When he's distracted, nervous, or sad, he fidgets with it. How this looks is that he looks like he's kinda rubbing his chest, like ungrasping and grasping something.

Second Off: him keeping it in a box under the floorboards. That is also so, so good. He's got it in the box along with a few other things that remind him of his father and Damian and his mother. He takes it out when he's feeling particularly lonely and homesick, it's a feeling that never really goes away even after five years of living in Amity Park. It's like a longing for something you'll never see again, but isn't that just how grief works? i can just imagine him sitting against the bed, late at night and back from patrol. He's still in his ghost form, his katana laid on the ground next to him, and his almost bird-like cape pooling down beside him as he cups the necklace in his hand like he's cradling an egg. Maybe he's bleeding from somewhere, and he's telling the necklace about patrol, murmured soft in Arabic.

When he finds out Sam is Jewish he probably, after much consideration, asks if he can observe their holidays -- after all, researching Jewish holidays only does so much. Sam agrees when he explains why, much to her parents chagrin, and he sometimes tags along. But once he gets an understanding of how they go, he starts doing it on his own. Somewhat. He celebrates with Sam for most of it, and then has some time to himself where he celebrates it on his own. So it's a little bit of both.

^^^ which brings me to thinking about my danyal snippet here where Sam is at a Wayne gala and tears into her parents over Danny in front of Bruce. And it's making me think of, with this idea in mind, Sam in a moment of emotional impulsivity, saying "I know that he wears a Star of David because his father is Jewish and he wants to be closer to him, because he loves him so very fucking much." And while saying that, briefly makes direct eye contact with Bruce as a way to tell him "I know you're his fucking dad. Look at the son you have left behind."

If only for the emotional gut punch that can leave Bruce with. 🥰

Thank you for the ask! I had a lot of fun responding to it, have a fantastic evening/day/night.

[incorrectbatfam]

how would bruce be at the retail jobs?

Previous: Margie | Batfam | Rogues | Justice League | Batkids in training

[clothing store]

Steph: Bruce, you're on menswear. 

Bruce: Yes ma'am. 

Bruce: Need help with anything?

Dick, pulling a shirt off the rack: How does this look? 

Bruce: It's very flattering, chum.

Dick: You think? 'Cause I'm really looking forward to this weekend at Wally's and I wanna impress his folks. 

Bruce: Never mind, it's all wrong. 

———————

[furniture store]

Steph: I'm gonna take inventory. Why don't you help that guy over there?

Bruce: Sure. 

Bruce: You've been looking at that recliner for a long time.

Jason: Yeah, it's pretty nice. 

Bruce: You thinking of buying it?

Jason: Nah, I'll just take my dad's. 

———————

[coffee shop]

Steph: Remember to write their names, especially since it's the morning rush. We don't wanna get the orders mixed up. 

Bruce: Don't worry, I have it all taken care of. 

Tim: One espresso, please. 

Bruce, writing on a cup: You got it. That'll be $3.25.

*5 minutes later*

Bruce: Espresso for Dick– I mean, Jason– I mean, Damian– I mean– oh, you know who you are, get over here. 

———————

[call center] 

Steph: I'm taking a break. Cover for me. 

*phone rings*

Bruce: Wayne Enterprises account support, how can I help you?

Damian: I would like to purchase the Horror and Slasher movie bundle. 

Bruce: Sorry, you have to be at least 18 for that. 

Damian: This is an outrage! Do you know who I am? I am the son of the CEO himself. I demand you put him on the line right now. 

Bruce: As you wish.

Bruce: *spins around in his chair*

Bruce: CEO of Wayne Enterprises here. I'm afraid we can't get that for you. To make up for your troubles, though, I've given you a free trial of our Goodnight Gotham children's bedtime audiobooks. 

———————

[grocery store]

Bruce: That'll be $50.36.

Duke: Shoot, I only brought forty. 

Bruce: Wait, I can give you the friends and family discount. 

Bruce: *swipes his credit card*

Duke: Sweet, thanks!

Bruce: Steph?

Steph: Yeah?

Bruce: Did I just buy my son fifty dollars worth of applesauce? 

———————

[drive-thru]

Cass: Just a water. 

Bruce: Alright, please go to the next window. 

Bruce: *hands her an ice cream cone*

Bruce: You sound like you need this. 

Cass: *smiles*

Steph: How did you—

Bruce: *pulls out his Girl Dad badge*

———————

[restaurant] 

Steph: Here's a menu and your server will be with you shortly. 

Barbara: Thank you. 

Bruce: Good evening. I'll be your server tonight. Have we decided on what we're going with?

Barbara: Yeah, I'll have the chicken. 

Bruce: And would you like a soup or salad with that?

Barbara: Depends. Do you spin the salad in front of me? 

Bruce: Yes. 

Barbara: Then I'll do the soup.

———————

[at home]

Bruce: *face down on his bed*

Steph: Lemme guess, long week? 

Bruce: *grunts* 

Steph: Me too. Hope you don't mind if I take a nap here. 

Steph: *curls up in the blanket*

Bruce: *grunts and pats her head* 

[dead-living-420]

404 - Title Not Found(part/chapter 2)

Part 1 - Tumblr Part 3 - Tumblr

Ao3

Summary: Danny needs to do laundry and agrees to go to a gala.

Jason is forced to go to a gala and needs to do laundry.

He forgets quarters and Danny forgets laundry detergent.

AN: Reminder that half of this shit is just crack treated seriously. I’m playing fast and loose with Danny Phantom cannon and DC cannon. If stuff isn’t cannon or if stuff is out of character, don’t question it. I just want to write my silly little fanfic.

——————————

Danny had fucked up. Even just meeting the walking dead he was meant to watch could cause trouble. At least that’s what ClockWork warned him of. It was probably just meant to lessen chances of anything bad happening, mainly the GIW appearing.

He decided to take a break from watching the Red Hood. He needed to focus on Danny anyways. He had spent the last few months focusing on Phantom and Ghost King Phantom. So when Vlad had offered to take him to a gala held by the Waynes, he immediately said yes.

Sure Vlad was still a bit of a fruitloop but he had stopped trying to basically murder his dad and lessened his advances on his mom as well. He had gone to a few galas before as both the Ghost King and Danny. He already a nice simple tux, he just needed to wash it since the last gala he was at had a ghost crashing it.

He didn’t mind galas as the Ghost King but loved them as Danny. He was able to mess with guests and Vlad with little to no suspicion that he was the cause.

Danny was gonna take the week to focus on himself and catch up on stuff that he wanted to do, not needed to. He sighed as he grabbed his tux and other clothes in a basket that needed to be cleaned. He double checked that he had his phone, keys, and bag of quarters before leaving his apartment and heading down to the crappy laundry room.

-

Jason still couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity with the guy from last night. It didn’t feel like that it was just by chance that he lived in the same building as one of his many places that he stays at. He had many safe houses, mainly out of Crime Alley to avoid Batman and rouges but he still felt connected to the place.

Speaking of rouges, the past few nights on patrol; he didn’t have the feeling of someone following him. He had realized it when watching some petty criminals since it was a quiet night. He didn’t like the sudden lack of not being follow, while it was good to know he wasn’t being followed; there had to be a reason for the sudden stop.

Outside of patrol, he noticed that the guy that gave him a sense of familiarity was on the same floor as him. He still didn’t know why there was that sense of familiarity, he didn’t know why he felt drawn to him. Jason pushed it to the side, just for now since he didn’t have a legitimate reason to start digging into it yet.

Jason sighed as he gathered up the clothes that were thrown around the apartment. He had been staying at that specific safe house for awhile, too tired from patrol to go to one of the farther ones. He had to do laundry and clean his nice somewhat formal clothes. Out of all the Wayne kids, he had drawn the short end of the stick when Bruce asked who would be going to the gala. Dick had brought up the issue that he was legally dead at one point and how that could cause issues but Alfred had apparently figured out a way to just make it seem like his death was exaggerated or something. Jason didn’t care to ask him how exactly he did that, it was fine for now.

He hated galas, even from what he remembered from when he was younger; he had always disliked them. He grumbled under his breath about how it was stupid as he walked out of his apartment with his laundry basket and laundry detergent. He knew that the washers the apartment complex provided were shitty but he didn’t feel like going to a laundromat or anything.

Jason entered the laundry room, it always had a wet clothes and laundry detergent smell. The lights flickered and it was cold. There were a few other people. He found an empty washer and loaded up his clothes. When he went to grab the quarters out of his pocket, damnit; he left them in his apartment. It was a minor inconvenience, still annoying.

“Fuck.”

-

Danny sighed, he realized that he forgot to buy laundry detergent. He was deciding between just doing laundry later or ask someone if he could use some of theirs. As he was weighing pros and cons, he heard cursing that broke the quiet. He looked up to see the guy using the washer across of him, cursing under his breath. He felt like he had seen him before.

Ever since staying in Gotham, he felt that a lot. It was because of how many liminal and dead walked the streets of Gotham. He just brushed it off usually but it felt different with this guy. Danny, one who never knew when to just stay quiet, saw an excuse to talk when he heard the guy grumbled about not having any quarters. The worst that could happen would be being yelled to mind his business.

He must’ve spaced out looking at him because now the guy was staring back at him. “Uh, I got some quarters if you need any.” Danny gave a small smile while holding out his bag of quarters. The guy seemed to think about it for second, Danny thought it looked he was questioning if he was trustworthy. He couldn’t blame him, it was Crime Alley after all. After a moment of silence, the guy spoke up.

It was a simple thanks as he took the amount he needed. “Do you need detergent or something?” Huh, maybe he had good luck for once, Danny thought before quickly replying. “I actually do need detergent.”

[zeroducks-2]

This is quite random sorry but has Dick ever acknowledge (or as close to it) that a lot of things that Bruce did to him are abusive? (this is for a fic I’m trying to write)

Yes and no!

Dick knows Bruce is an assholes and WILL yell at him to stop being an asshole, or at least he used to. Dick would call him out on his BS and wouldn't let him get away with a lot of things, but this was once upon a time, before they rebooted everything and erased decades of character development. The closest he gets to that post reboot is after Forever Evil - everyone thinks Dick is dead, and Bruce wants people to keep thinking that, hence he forces Dick to join Spiral and become Agent 37.

Dick is, as you can imagine, not thrilled. He yells and fights and Bruce beats the everloving shit out of him in a very upsetting sequence, where Dick is half naked and Bruce is wearing most of his gear while he keeps hitting him to the point of leaving him bleeding on the floor of the Batcave.

Dick begs and tries to appeal to everything he can including the "things can never be the same between us after this", to which Bruce essentially replies that it's a sacrifice he's willing to make. Ha. I say that this is especially upsetting because Dick went through a horribly traumatic experience during the events of Forever Evil, in which among other things he was tortured by Thomas Wayne Jr AKA Owlman, who wanted to turn Dick into his own sidekick after losing his Talon. The way Bruce beats and humiliates Dick is drawn in a way which creates a clear parallel between Thomas and Bruce's actions towards Dick, in a way that suggests they're "not that different after all", but this narratively goes nowhere and I don't get why they fuck they even came up with that. But anyway.

All of this gets forgotten soon enough. Despite his own warnings Dick forgives Bruce after a very short time, pines for home and tries to communicate with Bruce in any way he can because he "misses his dad", which to be honest made my guts churn and my bile rise after Bruce nearly beat him comatose. Essentially the story forgets Bruce did all of that and so does Dick, but for the brief time Dick was allowed to be aware of it and angry about it, he was indeed aware that he was being abused even if he never used the word abuse.

This is the case for lots of stories in which similar instances happen, as I mentioned before especially pre-reboot. Dick does call Bruce out on his bullshit - especially if Bruce is being an abusive asshole to someone else, since Dick is way more prone to defend other people than he is to defend himself, like here

or here

But despite being obviously aware that there are issues in the way Bruce does things, to put it mildly, he never uses the word "abuse" (which is sort of a prohibited word for DC standards, kind of like "rape". They're way more likely to say non consensual than rape because it's a less upsetting word apparently).

There is an instance of this post reboot, and it's during a conversation Dick has with Tim. I believe it happens in the Pride comics of 2022, but I don't have the panels on hand at the moment. Basically Tim asks for advice on how to please Bruce, being the man demanding and prone to bad moods, and Dick flat out replies "I spent a very big part of my life trying to please him, and I left when I realized it was impossible" which to me is so interesting since it's the textbook reaction of a former Golden Child who fell from grace and became a Scapegoat (please note that tumblr's definition of Golden Child is completely arbitrary; golden child doesn't mean "good kid", it means a child who the parent holds to the highest standards, on which there are the biggest expectations and the strongest pressure regarding everything the child does. Sometimes a parent lives vicariously through them and perceives them as an extension of themselves, but not necessarily. If you watched Encanto, Isabella is the Golden Child of the family).

Something similar happens during Nightwing's run from the 90s.

Dick lives in Bludhaven and at this point he's gone essentially no-contact with Bruce. Tim, being the new Golden Child, is trying to reel Dick back into the toxic dynamic because he genuinely thinks it's going to be good for both Dick and Bruce.

I'm pointing this out not to fault Tim in any way, he's just a kid what does he know, but to show you that indeed yes, Dick is aware that he's been abused otherwise he wouldn't have left, he wouldn't be on a no talking basis with his parental figure, and he wouldn't reply to Tim that he spent so much time of his life deluding himself into thinking that Batman actually needed him. Of course this also goes nowhere and their relationship isn't allowed to grow or heal (things are just conveniently forgotten after a while), but as I mentioned, Dick knows what's up.

That being said, I believe it's also worth noting that many many times Bruce abuses the fuck out of Dick and Dick doesn't really acknowledge it, just takes it. Sometimes he doesn't have the spoons to fight back, sometimes he thinks he deserves it, sometimes he just doesn't know how to react because Bruce strikes like an unprovoked viper (this happens especially when Dick was still a kid but already a Titan). A very good example of this is what happens after Jason's death.

Bruce doesn't tell Dick that Jason died. When Alfred offers to let him know, Bruce says "I will handle it", and he doesn't. Then there's Jason's funeral and Bruce doesn't tell Dick about it, again Alfred offers to inform him, Bruce says he will handle it. He doesn't.

Eventually Dick finds out for collateral reasons and has an emotional breakdown in front of the other Titans, which are powerless to help him. For reference, this is how he reacts when he has definitive proof that the boy is undoubtedly gone, if there was any doubt that Dick did care about Jason.

So Dick goes to the grave with Kory but then decided to confront Bruce alone, and Bruce, in the abusive feat of the century, blames Dick for not having showed up to Jason's funeral, despite having refused to 1: tell him about Jason's death AT ALL, and 2: refused TWICE when Alfred very gently suggested to inform Dick.

Dick of course argues that he didn't know anything, and so Bruce reacts by gaslighting him, telling him they he never cared about Jason and in fact he was angry that Bruce adopted Jason and not him. Which is not true, Dick just wanted to know WHY Bruce adopted Jason and hot him. Oh and also punches him in the face when Dick tries to argue that Jason was an untrained kid. Please note that when all of this happens, Dick is hurt and can barely stand on his feet, having one of his legs in a cast.

Cherry on top, Bruce explicitly saying that he never should have had a partner and never will again, essentially "our partnership up to this point meant nothing".

In this instance Dick is too neck-deep in his own self guilt to see that he's been through a sequence of extremely abusive behavior, and never really faults Bruce for that, using the easy-coming rationalization that Bruce was in pain, suffering for Jason's death, couldn't see reason etc etc (quick PSA: someone suffering isn't entitled to abuse and gaslight anyone. And even if we really want to enable Bruce cut Bruce some slack because he was grieving, it doesn't make his behavior any less abusive. Regardless of the reasons why, the way he acts here is very damaging towards Dick who in turn did nothing to deserve it, and is grieving Jason too).

See, the problem with Dick and Bruce is the sysyphean nature of comicbooks. Dick is doomed to be the original Golden Child who falls from grace, becomes the Scapegoat, but ultimately can never be completely free of the clutches of the relationship he has and had with Bruce, for better or worse. And since he can't ever truly get out and can't ever completely be independent, the abuse end up getting downplayed. If Dick never truly gets away from Bruce it's because it's not that bad, isn't it? Nay, it's because Dick cant. He is quite literally not allowed to, same as Bruce is not allowed to truly grow from his mistakes and learn to treat his former partner, sort-of-child and dear friend with the respect and love he actually feels for him, because despite all of this and because this is fiction, Bruce does love Dick more than it can be put into words and would set the world on fire for him. But, alas, he also is doomed to keep treating Dick like shit and never really learn from his mistakes.

So again, the answer to your question is yes and no. Dick is aware of how much of a difficult person Bruce is. He's aware of the domineering aspects of his personality. But he will ultimately brush it off in the name of the good that there is and there was between them, and he will keep answering Batman's call every time, because he's not allowed to ever truly grow apart from him. It doesn't matter how much he gets angry and how much Bruce hurts him, they're indissolubly tied in this dynamic and unless there is a huge shift in the way DC execs handle things, I don't see how this dynamic can change in the foreseeable future. Sadly enough, because I'd really like to see something new.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Part 6

It's Wednesday, you know what that means! After spending so much time writing for Carry Your Heart this week, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to get a long enough segment of this completed to share. Especially since I had a busy weekend. But here we are with 1.3k more words!

Time for the explanations to start.

First, Previous

----------

Danny slapped his hand over his face. “Jazz!” he hissed. He looked over, hoping Robin could help him. Only to realize he had rushed over to Alfred to give him a hug. “Great,” he muttered. “Everything is fine!” Danny tried to assure the room as he let his transformation flow over him.

The shouted questions just got louder and Jazz shifted to more completely block Danny from view.

“Jazz!” Danny tried again. “Lower your weapon! They’re safe!”

“Mom and Dad were supposed to be safe, too!”

Danny sighed. Then he ducked under her arm, using a mix of martial arts training from Pandora and intangibility to prevent her from stopping him. Ignoring the Waynes, he turned his back to them to face his sister. Robin could explain things to them if he wanted. “Jazz, it’s okay. They’re in almost as much danger from the Guys in White as I am.” He put his hands over hers and found the button to disarm her staff.

At least one person behind him demanded he explain what he meant by that, but Danny just looked Jazz in the eyes as he removed the staff handle from her hands.

She let him take it an narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean.”

Danny gave her his biggest shit-eating grin. “Congrats on the second dead boyfriend. I like this one much more than the first. Goes well with the dead brother.”

“Second…” Jazz’s voice trailed off as she looked over the people behind him. It was getting harder to ignore their shouted questions and demands for explanations. “Jason was the second Robin.”

“Yep,” agreed Danny. “And something went wrong when he was brought back to life. He ended up split in two and haunted by his own ghost.”

“Why couldn’t I see him? Or sense him?”

“He was that weak. I gave him some of my ectoplasm to strengthen him which is why he’s visible now.”

“Okay. Okay. So, what next?”

“Now I apologize to Jason and petition a founding member of the Justice League for assistance for my people.” Before Jazz could ask the questions she clearly wanted to at the last half of his sentence, Danny turned around and faced the Waynes.

Nearly all of them were facing Danny and Jazz in fighting stances. Damian had gotten a sword from somewhere and looked like he was half a second from rushing them. Bruce’s expression was blank, but his fists were clenched and he was glaring at Danny. Though his eyes kept flicking to Robin who had stopped hugging Alfred and was settled on Barbara’s lap signing to Dick and Alfred. Cass was paying more attention to them than Danny and Jazz.

But Danny didn’t really care about any of them. He sought out Jason who was pressed against the wall staring at Robin with wide eyes, a gun held loosely in his hand. “Jazz, feel free to share anything. Bruce is Batman. I’m gonna talk to your boyfriend for a moment.”

“How did you find that out?” demanded Bruce who moved to block Danny’s way.

At the same time, Jason fell into a defensive stance and held up the gun properly. “Don’t come closer!”

Danny cocked his head and looked at the gun. With barely a thought, he froze the trigger mechanism so it couldn’t shoot while sending out calm, safe, no harm pulses from his core. He trilled a I come in peace for good measure. To Bruce, he said, “Robin told me.” But then he realized there was more than one Robin present. “Not… Damian? The dead one.”

He realized that was an awful way to phrase it even as Jazz hissed his name in reproach. Even Robin facepalmed at his statement.

Bruce barely twitched. “Who are you?” he demanded, voice low and threatening.

“Right, okay, that’s a fair question. So I haven’t lied about who I am. Or much of anything tonight, really. I’m Danny. I was born Danny Fenton until my parents decided they were not okay having a half-dead son and tried to fix me. I escaped and now I respect their wishes by not using their last name. I did die when I was fourteen and became a vigilante in our home town keeping humans safe from ghosts and ghosts safe from humans. I was able to broker a semi-permanent peace on the ghostly side a few years ago and retired from vigilantism. But now I’m basically the liaison between the living realms and the Infinite Realms. Which means I need to talk to your son. So we’ll continue this after I do.”

“I will not allow you near Jason until you explain everything.” Bruce stood even taller and tried to loom over Danny.

“It’s his medical information. I’ll explain what I can to him and he can choose what to share with you. Besides, I’m a ghost. You really can’t stop me.” He strengthened the peace, no harm, calm vibes he was sending out. Bruce was liminal enough he should be able to feel them. “You know I’m telling the truth. You’ve died and there are no secrets among the dead.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Damian lower his sword.

“What are you doing?” demanded Bruce who didn’t relax at all.

“Later,” insisted Danny. This was pointless. He needed to talk to Jason and delaying wasn’t going to help any of them. Turning intangible, he walked around Bruce whose arms went right through him. As did Tim’s follow-up attacks.

“What are you doing?” yelled Tim as he tried to restrain Danny.

“Trying to talk to your brother,” replied Danny. “You should let me do it.” And then he was before Jason.

The calming pulses from his core had calmed his sister’s boyfriend down somewhat. The gun was now pointed at the ground and his hand wasn’t on the trigger anymore. Not that it would’ve fired anyway, but Jason didn’t know that.

“I’m sorry.” He heard Jazz yelling at Tim and Bruce and starting her own explanations and happily let her handle her boyfriend’s family. To Jason, he continued, “I knew Clockwork was hiding something from me about you and Jazz, but I let myself get distracted and put off visiting you. I don’t know everything that happened to you or how or why you’ve been split in two, but I can help. However you want. I promise to explain everything I do know tonight. Once we get somewhere private. Do you want Jazz there, too? I’d recommend it since she’s better at explaining things than me, but it’s your choice.”

“What are you? What is that?” Jason pointed to Robin with a shaking hand.

Danny smiled sadly. “You know who he is. He’s you. Whatever brought you back to life did a fucking awful job of it. Being split in two like this isn’t good for you and I say that from experience. Now, I can keep answering your questions here in full hearing of every single member of your family, or we can wait until later. I promise no more harm will come to you.”

“He’s been there the whole time?”

“He’s been there the whole time,” confirmed Danny. “Waiting a few hours won’t change a single thing.”

Jason nodded once and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and as he did so seemed to stand up taller. When he opened his eyes again, he no longer looked to be on the verge of attack. He even clicked the safety of his gun back on and put it away. “Now, I do have one question,” he said.

“Anything.”

“What was that you meant about me being Jazz’s second dead boyfriend?”

Over his surprised laughter, he heard Jazz’s groan from across the hall. Yeah, he really did like Jason more than Johnny.

---------

Next

Danny is setting himself up to be interrogated by the entire batclan. He has no idea what he's about to face. I wanted to get more into everyone's reactions, but that'll come in the next parts.

Unrelated to this fic, I'm glad you all enjoyed I'll Carry Your Heart! I did feel a little guilty with the comments/tags on part 2 talking about how sweet and fluffy it was only to twist all of that in part 3. It was a lot of fun to write and I can't wait to get back to it.

Tag List

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[friendlyneighborhoodplebeian]

Quick Fire Bat Headcanons

Bruce had a hyper-fixation on bats growing up and that’s why he’s Batman

Damian’s first pet was a Robin gifted to him by Ra’s as some form of irony from him

Jason vaguely remembers his time at LoA, but it’s all very hazy and the only clear thing he remembers is Damian’s laughter

Jason was assigned as Damian protector and caretaker at his time at the LoA

Damian was super upset at Jason for not acknowledge their time together before realizing Jason doesn’t remember

Bernard did find Dana Drake incredibly attractive, but he was mostly using her as a cover for him writing “Bernard Drake” in his notebooks

Bernard had a crush on Tim during high school

Tim saw Bernard writing “Bernard Drake” in his notebooks once and after Bernard told him it was for Dana, Tim told him “You know she’s only a Drake because she’s married to my dad right?”

Bernard was sent to a catholic boarding school after the Darla incident

Bernard figured out Tim was Robin during his time at his catholic boarding school

Bernard is more interested in Tim Drake than Robin even if he’s a fanboy, he’ll always be more of a Tim stan.

Dick purposely eats weird things to freak out his family, he’s actually a very good cook

Much like cooking Dick is a great singer, but purposely sings badly to bother the family

Duke teaches Damian about pop culture and they are actually super close

Everyone, but Duke, got a bit freaked out when Damian put his pop culture lessons to used, Duke was very proud

Bruce and Damian have Martha Wayne’s smile

While people argue that Damian looks the most like Bruce or Talia, all Alfred sees is Martha

Damian becomes a veterinary surgeon taking after one of his better grandfathers but adding his own twist

Damian gives the best advice out of the family but is the last person everyone goes to for advice

All the Bats have built an immunity to motion sickness

[artemismoorea03]

DPxDC Writing Prompt Idea

I have no idea if this has been done before but I just had this idea so if it has been done feel free to ignore this but I gotta share this.

So, I always see these prompts of different characters being related to different DC characters. For example I've seen some where people say that Tucker is related to Lucius Fox. Dash is related to Harley Quinn. Jack being related to Bruce Wayne. Danny related to Tim/Damian/Dick or any of the other Batfam but one I haven't seen before is one that I feel could be easily used.

Maddie Fenton is related to Jim Gordon.

Now, I've never seen this or even heard people talking about it and I can kind of understand why. Maddie is shown to have a sister but like - hear me out anyways.

Maddie has a cousin, she has met him a couple of times as a kid and only once as an adult when Danny was around 7. There wasn't any real reason for it, just a Family Reunion and an excuse to spend time as a family, something she often forgot to do when she was so determined to get the Ghost Portal open.

Her cousin is Jim and his daughter is a good ten years older than Danny. She had heard that Jim was quickly rising in rank in Gotham City and that his daughter - despite the occasional odd truancy issues - had her head on straight. Jazz also adored the older girl and followed her around the entire reunion, looking almost like Barbara's little sister.

Danny got closer to Jim than his daughter though, and started talking about things that he probably shouldn't have. After all, what 7 year old has a filter? What 7 year old knows not to mention the fact that sometimes their food attacks them or that Jazz is learning how to cook because sometimes mom and dad forget to feed them because their research is important. The more Danny talks the more concerned Jim gets, but he's also conflicted.

This is his cousin, the same cousin who the time Danny fell and scraped his knee peppered kisses on each and every one of his freckles on his face and danced with him until the pain stopped and then patched him up and danced with him again. This is family. He's sure that Danny is just... making things sound bigger than they are, as children do - at least he hopes that's the case.

But on the off chance that there is something going on he slips Jazz and Danny both his number and gives his cousin the same number in case anything came up.

As the years go on though Jim starts to see more red flags. Small things at first - Jazz asking how to change the batteries in a fire alarm. Danny calling to ask if pot-lids could be stuck in the microwave to cover rice. Basic questions that could be asked to a parent or a parent should be doing for their kids anyways. But whenever Jim asked about this the answer was the same.

"Mom and Dad are busy in the lab."

This continued for years until a call from Jazz one night seven years after he'd met them for the first time. She was crying and sobbing, her voice shaking as she tries to get the words out.

"Danny had an accident. Mom and dad aren't home, what do I do?"

Jim was 900 miles away, he had no way to get to them. No way to get him to them. So he did what he could and instructed her to hang up with him and call for an ambulance. Jazz was scared though, she didn't trust the doctors but thankfully Danny's voice could be heard.

The relief Jazz had when her brother woke up was enough to make Jim feel like he was going to throw up. The call ended shortly after that but he made sure to call a few days later and ask his cousin how Danny was doing.

"Danny? He's just fine!"

"That's good. He healed from the accident then?"

"What accident- oh, Jack no, that goes to the right - your other right. Jim, sorry I have to go. We can talk about this later, okay?"

Jim was appalled. Jazz had called him in tears, hyperventilating and Danny had been unconscious - Jazz though he was dead - and their parents didn't have any idea?

It was a little over a year later that he got another call. Just as frantic, just as scared, but much worse.

Danny was all but screaming in the back ground, voices were telling him to holds still and that they knew it hurt but he was bleeding out and he needed to hold still. Terrified, hurt, betrayed voices. Jazz again explained the situation, this time eerily calm.

"I can't go into details over the phone but we're coming to Gotham City to seek Asylum against a law that will get Danny killed. We need you to keep Batman off of our tails until Danny is healed. We'll handle everything from there."

"Healed? Healed from what?" Why did these calls always happen during work. "Jazz, what is happening? You have to give me something if I'm going to protect you guys."

"... My parents cut Danny open, Jim. They cut him open and he's hurt bad. Myself, Danny, and two of our friends are on our way to you now." Jim felt like his jaw hit the floor then snapped back up so hard it gave him whiplash as he sank back in his chair. "Before you ask; no. Hospitals aren't an option. Danny isn't a meta and they weren't violating any laws when they cut him open. Which is why we need you to keep Batman away from us for as long as possible. What... what Danny is shouldn't exist and if anybody gets a hold of him they'll cut him back open, turn him into a super weapon, or destroy him."

"Then why call me. I'm a police commissioner. What makes you sure you can trust me?"

"I'm not. Neither are the others with us but the only thing Danny has said since we saved him is 'Go to Jim'. We're following his lead on this. So... I'm trusting Danny, who has his full trust in you, Jim. Don't let him down."

[sidecharactersdomatter]

Thoughts I had during TGCF S2 Ep 6

Previously on TGCF…

This is gonna be epic!!!

Cw: Past homicide

-That’s Yong’An in its heyday 

-Sparrows

-Fang Xin

-It’s Qianqiu’s assistant from Eps 1-2!

-Young Qianqiu is literally me in my Freshman year of High School during the first semester

-His butterfly shaped mask

-Writing the Laozi 10 times has the energy of making a kid stay in class and write a sentence over and over on the chalkboard till they’ve learned their lesson (Literally every Simpsons opening)

-He doubled it

-Imagine if Piandao talked to Sokka like that when beginning his sword training

-Man wonder who voices Young!Qianqiu?

-I mean the move could also get you hurt if you’re careless

-This is the Ancient Chinese version of the trolley problem, same analogy though

-I like to think this advice was taught to Zuko and Sokka when they were learning swordsmanship

-See, trolley problem esque

-Good advice to not intervene

-More dead bodies

-Oh no and that was his Dad

-That’s when the survivor’s guilt set in

-I can see why Xie Lian and Hua Cheng are perfect for each other, they both have a freaking high kill count

-Just like when Bruce Wayne lost his parents

-What did he say?

-He’s not a monster

-That was during his second ascenscion

-That’s gonna be a bad outcome

-“I wish to be stripped of my divinity” Literally every fangirl’s brain drifted to something else when he said that.  Just look at Kictor and Stitch

-Doesn’t seem like he earned it at all

-He just wants to get out of the drama

-If there was a modern AU, you know Shi Qingxuan would make an awesome and wealthy defense attorney

-There’s the Amongus quote

-Dang no answer

-There’s Prosecutor Pei Ming, that’s a good nickname.

-He made a solid point

-That’s the result of the Fang Xin trial with XL on house arrest and a restraining order from Taihua

-He made another enemy

-Aaaa pickle jar, better believe it Qingxuan

-How is she going to get air???

-That upset Qingxuan, Feng Xin, and Mu Qing

-The interior looks hollow in Xie Lian’s palace

-That’s coming out of Qingxuan’s pockets

-He deserves the apology hun

-He’s doing it, he’s doing the iconic old time Put your head between your arms against a flat surface like a Disney Princess!

-He still has the dice

-It’s snake eyes!

-Hi Mu Qing

-Stick it to Jun Wu, Mu Qing

-I know right, it did NOT seem like a healing spell at all

-Wonder if I can conceptualize a similar healing potion for TOH MTC…?

-You just had to ask him that didn’t you?

-Hi Feng Xin

-A guest who invited himself inside

-Welp he really was honest

-Seriously, Mu Qing you couldn’t have felt bad for his house arrest

-Xie Lian’s trying to mediate again

-Mu Qing’s response had bite to it

-One Punch!!!

-Fist Fight!  Fist Fight!

-“You’re a hypocrite, you’ve always looked down on me, but you’re not better than I am!!!”  Oh my gods, Lucien Dodge freaking delivered!!!

-“Enough…” Oh man, Xie Lian’s emotions

-The Junior Officials witnessing the Generals fisticuffs:

Feng Xin!  Feng Xin!  Feng Xin!

Mu Qing!  Mu Qing!  Mu Qing!

-“Did it really have to come to violence?” Yeah it pretty much did. - Iroh, dragon of the West, the Waterbending scroll

-Mu Qing: Fine I’ll break your face

Feng Xin: Not if I break yours first!  It’s too late to beg for mercy!  

That’s what I translated to the best of my skills during Xie Lian’s internal monologue

-He’s like a parent that’s disappointed with his two kids constantly at odd

-Don’t worry, hon what’s really gonna help them is Couples’ therapy, and I’d hate to be that therapist

-A dramatic sound effect!

-I can’t wait to write the Gaang’s reaction to the Wraith Butterflies

-That was a cool shield spell

-I love how the butterflies are easily dodging Xie Lian, but are charging toward Mu Qing and Feng Xin to scare the sh*t outta them

-He’s gonna hold one of the butterflies, he’s holding one of the butterflies, yeah too late man AND HE’S NUZZLING THE WINGTIPS WITH HIS NOSE Cue keyboard smash! WAE TESDHGFYFJ. RYGJ GUFTDRSSDFAEGRRESVGTGTRS DFGSTRWG EIEEEIIIIIIIEEEEEE!!! I always love this joke, no matter how old it’s gonna get in my reaction posts.

-Yeah he’s just going

-The real reason this episode took so long to air last year was that the animators had to get the waist snatch scene past censorship to spite their censor companies for not having Xie Lian fall into Hua Cheng’s lap in Eps 4-5.

-Xie Lian: Hello Again, Literally me: HAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! (This is the same noise Eleanor Shellstrop made when she was gifted a Shrimp Dispenser in The Good Place)

-They’re just backing up

-You two had one job!  Looking at you Feng Xin and Mu Qing!  I see ya

-He’s just tugging his sleeve as they’re walking

-Man, it’s like Hua Cheng took Little John’s advice from Robin Hood 1973 to “Climb the palace walls.  *Tosses out Gross Carrot* Sweep him off his feet, carry him off in style.” - Little John, Disney Robin Hood (1973) (Best Disney film hands down, freaking fight me if you dare)

-That must’ve hurt his ears

-Y’all had one job

-Feng Xin is just worried

-*Hua Cheng has entered the chat*  Like a goat!

-The subtle eye contact and expression he shared with Xie Lian!

-Some of the 33 gods he defeated are also in the chat

-That shook the veils

-Won’t that be pain in his mind?

-Looks like he saved you yeah

-A flashback from Ep 5!

-Touchstarved!  Touchstarved!  (Try prying this headcanon from my cold dead grip!)

-And here you’re about to see Howard Wang’s best performance in the series so far

-Best apology I’ve ever heard in media

-It healed that fast

-Petition to have James Cheek voice an iconic lead character in a Shakespeare play?

-Aw, they were actually both at fault for what happened

-You can actually feel Hua Cheng’s Shame

-E Ming: Noooo…. You hurt him!  I hurt him!  We hurt him! AAAHHH!  *sobs*

Season 2 has fed us once more!  I’m still busy with writing the Scrap Immortal and the Avatar.  For writing inspiration, I’ll be busy rewatching Avatar:  The Last Airbender

[aingeal98]

I have like. Two versions of Damian Wayne in my head. I think it's a consequence of getting to know and love him via Morrison's run on him and then wanting to know more, doing research into his mother's side, and being horrified by how racist the retcons made were. It didn't really change how much I enjoy Damian in any significant way, because I liked him for his dynamic with the batfamily and how entertaining he is as Robin. It's just that when it comes to anything deeper than that, about what motivates him, what he internalized growing up, the impact his childhood abuse had on him, anything to do with Ras or Talia really... A lot of writers fail so badly at making it compelling and instead just make me cringe and want them never to touch the al Ghuls again. And so we end up with two Damians:

Damian Wayne aka the Damian I love: Most easily described as an in-character, well written Damian with a solid backstory. Robin Son of Batman and his Robin run both pull this off pretty well. They don't downplay the horror of his childhood but they don't cross over into cartoonish territory either, and they allow Damian to have complicated thoughts and feelings about what he did and what was done to him. You can see how his abuse shaped him without it being shoved hamfistedly down your throat, and I don't come away thinking "I have to ignore all of this no matter how important it is to his character because logically Ras and/or Talia would not fucking do that". Also he's hilarious and makes me root for him whether he's insulting his enemies or electrocuting Jason or dying for the fifth/sixth time. Like that's my son and I can write a million words on his mentality and how it's changed and his opinions on his parental figures and his character development and how he'd interact with x or y character and-

And the second Damian, aka the Woobie Damian. The one you get where hack writers want to give him a sad backstory to justify how Edgy and Badass and Damaged he is and write the most cartoonishly over the top evil Ras and Talia possible. Most recent example I can think of is Tom King saying Ras locked Damian in a box with no water for a week because he didn't tie his shoelaces right. Or Morrison's Talia murdering her own son. Or how SuperSons wrote Talia. And look, it's not that I won't accept horribly, ridiculously evil villains. My favourite character's dad abused her in more extreme ways than even the worst al Ghul writer could come up with. It's that these are characters with already established personalities and traits. Unless they are being mind controlled they would not act like that and do these things. Just like how Bruce Wayne wouldn't lock Dick in a cave and feed him rats. There are ways you can show the impact of growing up in a cult and raised by an evil grandfather and being told repeatedly that you are destined to lead them all into a better world and trained in the art of killing a man. And these writers fail miserably at pulling any of that off. It's as shallow and boring as "You know why I'm mean to you all the time? Because my family taught me love is a weakness. I said mean things to you and stabbed you but my grandfather used to beat me for showing kindness to animals. Don't you feel sorry for me now?"

It sucks. I hate it. Anything with that Damian in it, I automatically filter out of my personal canon. The only way I can think of making it good is if it's like the "Slice the Baby Saturday" meme, where Damian is just bullshitting to see how much he can get away with and deliberately testing his family with stereotypes. But unfortunately those writers are dead serious about Ras making Damian climb up a whole mountain with no safety gear even if he falls and breaks his arm or dies. Because that is definitely something you would do with your one and only heir. They're literally two minutes away from saying Ras gave Damian a puppy and then told Talia to kill it in front of him.

So basically when I say that I love Damian and he's my favourite male Robin, know that woobie Damian is not a part of this conversation. Real Damian I would kill for. A writer puts woobie Damian in front of me and says his mom stabbed him I say let him bleed out so I won't have to endure comics about him anymore.

[outercrasis]

Don't Be A Stranger

Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Battinson) x gn!Reader

Word Count/Rating: 4.7k // PG-13

Warnings: references to canon-typical violence/injury

Summary: There's no mistaking that silhouette. It's him in your living room. The Batman.

It was pure chance. Anyone in Ms. Atwood's fourth grade class could have ended up with him as their pen pal. You're not sure you believe that the stars aligned just right or that fate was on your side anymore than it being a true, one-in-a-million fluke. Still, you're the one who ended up with Bruce Wayne as their pen pal.

You didn't know it was him at first. You were only given his first name and a non-descript address. The PO box didn't exactly scream the prince of Gotham. Sometimes you wonder if you would have treated him differently if you had known. There's a good chance you would have.

As young as you were, no one could forget the bold, block letters of the Gotham Gazette from early that September. THOMAS AND MARTHA WAYNE DEAD. The editor didn't even attempt to give it any flair. It was shocking enough on its own.

Your father had been devastated, a large supporter of Thomas Wayne's mayoral campaign. Your mother had regarded Martha as a style icon, in shambles over losing her favorite inspiration. You remember reading the byline about young Bruce surviving the ordeal, trying to comprehend what it would mean to suddenly no longer have parents.

It was news that rocked the entire city and the very next day it's all your classmates could talk about. Robbie Carter said his grandpa thought it was all a conspiracy, Monica Gibbs told you her dad was one of the first officers on the scene and that blood had been everywhere, and Avery Parker told everyone to shut up. You were glad Avery did, as the discussion had been making you start to feel queasy.

A few months later though, when your pen pal was assigned, the name Bruce didn't really click. After all, why would Bruce Wayne of all children be writing to someone in the Gotham Public School system?

Blissfully unaware of your pen pal's true identity, you wrote to him like you would have any other kid your age. You introduced yourself, telling him the important details like your favorite ice cream flavor and what you wanted to be when you were older. He was kind enough to not point out that an astronaut chef was an unlikely job.

His responses were a bit muted in comparison, but you didn't mind. It was clear Bruce was intelligent early on with his large vocabulary and varied topics. More than once you had to look up words in the dictionary or pull a reference to understand what he was talking about. Having to look things up sometimes was far better than a boring pen pal – like Andrew Clark who had a pal that only wanted to talk about a specific species of shark.

At the end of the school year with a parent's permission you could send your home address to your pen pal to keep the correspondence going. It took three days to get your mom to grant her approval and worth every extra chore you agreed to. Even more thrilling was that Bruce wanted to keep writing to you too.

Somewhere early fifth grade you figured out Bruce's real identity, not that he'd ever truly been hiding it. The pieces had been clicking together for a while but the clear mention of his bedroom in the Tower cinched it. There's only one capital T Tower in Gotham and everyone knows it belongs to the Wayne family.

You chose to not acknowledge it. Looking back on it you don't know why – it just didn't seem to make a difference. Bruce was Bruce, Wayne name attached or not.

You both kept writing consistently all the way through middle school. Considering the attention span of kids, especially pre-teens, it was a remarkable feat. From what you knew, you were the only one to keep in touch with your pen pal for so long.

For whatever reason your parents never chose to look over your letters and without a teacher's watchful eye, you could say anything. No topic was off limits. There was no judgment between you two. The bond was sacred, sharing every last thought and feeling. You normally made up for where he lacked in the feelings discussion, where Bruce had plenty of thoughts for the both of you.

High school was where things started to slip. You were caught up in keeping your grades high, extra curriculars, and the drama of who’s dating who. You’re not really sure what Bruce got caught up in – as far as you knew he didn’t even attend the posh boarding school for Gotham's elites. 

Needless to say, the established schedule fell apart a little. It certainly wasn’t once a week anymore but you did your best. Even when you didn’t get a reply for a while, you kept sending your letters. Someone had to be clearing out the PO box because none of them were ever returned.

Bruce’s letters came to a complete stop soon after graduation. It coincided with his widely-reported disappearance from Gotham, so you weren’t surprised, but it felt wrong to give up on your correspondence. A pen pal for this long shouldn’t end without a proper goodbye. 

You kept at it – the frequency of your post varying with the ups and downs of life. College brought exciting times but also a fair amount of strife. You kept Bruce up to date about everything. New friends, new partners, new addresses when you moved, celebrations of passing exams, excitement over what was on the horizon, grief at the untimely loss of your father, the burden of bills and low wages. 

While there weren’t any letters being sent in return, Bruce would find a way to pop up in your life from time to time. You’re not sure what he was up to in his world, but it was enough to know he was reading your letters. A surprise delivery of baked goods at your doorstep filled with your favorite confectionaries, a large anonymous bouquet at your father’s wake, a mystery deposit in your bank account when your bills became a bit too tight. 

You'd offer a brief thank you in your next letter, nothing that would embarrass him, but enough that it was acknowledged. After all this time you had a good idea of how to properly toe that line. 

Part of you wished for a real response. Even a short missive emblazoned on impersonal Wayne letterhead. You weren't ungrateful for his little gestures, but you missed his voice, his mind. Bruce had the most interesting way of looking at the world. You missed being privy to it – you hoped one day he would let you back in.

—

It's late when you get home. Clean-up at the volunteer shelter took longer than you expected, meaning your trip home was more nerve wracking than usual. Your apartment isn’t in the Narrows, but that isn’t saying much. Gotham isn’t the kind of city to have a truly “safe” neighborhood – the promise of violence just varies from borough to borough. You’d say yours provides an even 50/50 shot.

The mostly-empty subway cars are uninviting despite being the fastest and safest option. With less bodies crammed inside the tubes it means your chances of being targeted go up. Every squeak of the train track seems louder, every rattle a little more threatening. You keep a tight hold on your bag. The streets themselves aren’t much better. Moonlight barely reaches the street, blocked by the thick clouds, and streetlights are inconsistent at best.

You breathe a sigh of relief when you see your apartment door. Six stories up with two locked doors between you and Gotham's nighttime streets means you can finally relax. It's not really paranoia, more so staying vigilant in a dangerous city.

You flick on your small table lamp and fall into the couch. There's an attempt to fling your bag onto the coffee table, but it hits the side and it slumps onto the floor. Not a big deal. You'll grab it tomorrow. The comfort of home settles in, nearly tempting you to close your eyes right there on the couch when your stomach growls. Food, eating, important. Right.

Rolling off the cushions, you catch a small whiff of yourself. You don’t smell bad, but you’re not sure it can be said that you smell good. Your priorities quickly become apparent. Food, shower, then sleep. Anything else is tomorrow’s problem. 

Deciding what to eat is easy when there isn’t much in your kitchen to start with. Grocery shopping was supposed to happen yesterday, but with how busy your week has been there’s been no time. Luckily, there’s still enough to scrape together a serviceable sandwich. You eat it over the sink, not wanting to deal with a dirty plate and trying to keep the crumbs contained.

By the time you finish your sandwich, your eyes are half-open. Skipping the shower until tomorrow morning is incredibly tempting, but the idea of slipping into your sheets squeaky clean just barely beats it out. 

It takes a little time for your water to heat properly, the result of aging infrastructure and a half-caring landlord. In an effort to keep yourself awake, you pull out a pen and paper and begin to scrawl a new letter to Bruce. 

It's been nearly two weeks since your last one. You've gotten through the simpler details when the water has finally heated, abandoning the letter on the kitchen counter. 

The choice to shower was the correct one. There's immediate relief standing underneath the warm spray, the stress of your day-to-day melting away. The city's grime sloughs off of you, collecting in the tub. It eventually makes its way down the drain – a clogged pipe that you can do nothing about always leads to an inch of water for you to stand in.

You're nearing the end of your shower when a noise catches your ear outside the bathroom door. You quickly write it off. With an apartment six floors up it would take a worthless amount of dedication to find a way into your place. Any smart thief wouldn't enter the apartment with a light on either. It's nothing.

Rinsing your hair, there's another louder noise accompanied by a heavy grunt. There's no mistaking that. Someone has found their way into your apartment.

Panicked, you quickly grab a towel and wrap it around yourself. If someone is going to break into your place they aren't going to catch you completely naked. Looking around the bathroom, you quickly settle on the plunger for a weapon. It's not much but definitely better than nothing. The thought of the baseball bat perfectly nestled under the edge of your bed taunts you.

The shower is still running, but your water bill is the least of your concern at the moment. If you die in the next ten minutes you won't have to pay it anyway.

Inching towards the door, you mentally walk through your gameplan. Throw open the door, plunger raised, run at the intruder yelling, and rain fury down upon them. Hopefully they'll be so shocked by your deranged appearance that they'll immediately frighten and leave.

You only manage to execute the first two steps of the plan – the shock of what you find stopping you dead in your tracks.

There's a man standing there, but it's not some random drophead like you thought. There's no mistaking that silhouette. It's him in your living room. The Batman.

Before you can really process the insanity of the situation he stumbles, landing hard on one knee. You rush over, terrified that the masked vigilante of Gotham is going to die here on your secondhand rug.

He's heavy. With more than half his dead weight falling onto you, it's a shock you don't completely buckle underneath him. 

"Come on, at least get to the couch before collapsing," you grunt, leading him over. 

His eyes are partially closed, clearly struggling to keep them open. He's breathing heavily with his suit half blown to hell. You have no idea what to do.

The most intense medical experience you have is shooting someone full of narcan to help prevent an overdose at the volunteer shelter – an experience you're not exactly eager to repeat. You weren't built for stitching up wounds and preventing infection. Clutching your towel, the realization that there is nothing you can do for him is crushing.

Water is becoming a puddle on the floor beneath you, your breaths becoming more ragged to match his with every passing moment. Something about your fear seems to awaken something in him.

"Front– pocket. Auto– injector. Thigh." Every word is a labor. It takes you a few moments too long for his words to click.

"Now."

The force of his words snaps you into action. You launch forward, frantically flipping through all his pockets to find the right one. Front pocket, honestly. He couldn't have been more vague. Eventually, your fingers wrap around something that looks similar to an epipen.

"Twist. Then–" he breathes in sharply, struggling for the next word. "inject."

You can do that you think. His armor is thick, but the fabric on his inner thigh thins a bit. With his sprawled position, it's easy to access. 

You twist the injector, watching the liquid turn royal blue before stabbing it into his thigh. He cries out slightly, his body tensing, before collapsing back into the cushions.

"Good job."

His eyes slide shut. His chest continues to rise and fall at a slow but steady pace. The mania of the last few moments washes over you, panic transforming into shock and confusion. How did Batman manage to choose your apartment out of millions? What the fuck.

You stand there looking down at him, suddenly realizing you're only in a towel and the shower is still running. A flush of embarrassment courses through you as realization crashes. There's only the barest hope you didn't flash him in all the commotion.

Drying off and changing as quickly as you can, you bring a clean rag and some warm water over to him. You're guessing whatever he asked you to inject him with is some kind of super-serum but you can't imagine being so filthy is doing any favors. The absurdity of this isn't lost on you. You're really about to clean up Batman's wounds.

It's a slow process. You take your time, periodically switching out the water. At some point you grab a different rag to clean up the torn edges of his armor as well, trying to keep everything as sterile as you can. You do your best – you're not exactly an expert at this.

Even as you clean him up it's difficult to come to terms with the fact that this is really happening. Following the aftermath of the Riddler a couple years ago, Batman went from freakish rumor to celebrated hero overnight. He still seemed more myth than real to you, but there's no question now. He is very real and seemingly very human. You hadn't been sure if the bat motif went deeper before.

You finish up and are left with the conundrum of what to do next. You're more exhausted than ever, but leaving him here just seems wrong. In the end you settle on dragging over your moon chair and grabbing a book. This isn't weird right? You're just making sure he doesn't die or convulse or something.

It was foolish of you to think you could stay awake. Between your preexisting fatigue and the adrenaline come-down, you don't make it through a paragraph before falling asleep.

—

The first few rays of sunlight streaming in your windows are what wakes you. There’s a moment of panic before registering that you’re just in your living room, safe and sound. You stretch and rub at the tight spot in your neck. Falling asleep curled up like that is never a good idea. 

Your eyes drift over to the couch and you freeze. He isn’t there. Had you imagined it all? Was last night actually some incredibly vivid dream or hallucination brought on by exhaustion? 

That’s the final straw. No more doubles that roll into volunteer shelter shifts. Your body can’t handle that toll anymore. You give another big stretch, your spine popping, and let out a small yelp when you turn to the kitchen and see Batman standing there. 

If last night seemed ridiculous then you don’t even know what to call this. What is there to say or think when the city’s masked vigilante is standing in your kitchen like he belongs there? And how the hell is he even standing after the condition he was in?

He doesn’t say anything. You’re not sure what you expected. You don’t know what to say either. It doesn’t even feel like he’s trying to psych you out or anything, he’s simply… quiet. His eyes return to your letter that he’s holding. 

“Hey! That’s private!”

You rush into the kitchen, pulling the letter out from his hands. Gotham’s protector or not, he doesn’t have the right to start reading your private correspondence. 

He doesn’t seem all that bothered by your anger. "Sorry, I probably shouldn’t read ahead."

You stare at him in slight confusion and wonder as the pieces click together. Holy shit. How did you not put it together before? It seems so obvious now – like you’re in the fifth grade again realizing your pen pal Bruce is Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne is Batman.

Bruce Wayne is Batman.

His letters stopped years ago, but you would still venture to say you know Bruce Wayne better than anyone else and it all fits. More wealth than he knows what to do with, a desire to continue his father's legacy to improve Gotham, and a deep, dark scar left on his heart all too young. 

You always imagined he would start doing some serious philanthropy work, but you suppose this is in line with that. It's not all that shocking that he wants to do it with his own bare hands. Bruce has always wanted to do things himself.

In the eighth grade he told you about a computer he was working on, going into great detail to explain its complexities. It was going to be one of the most advanced systems ever designed once he was through with it. He also mentioned offhand how he nearly blew himself up with it. Becoming Batman seems right on target with that.

What doesn't make sense is why now? Why tell you at all, this many years in? He's let Batman remain a mystery to you for nearly five years. You didn't do anything new to gain his trust.

“I um, I think I need to sit down.”

You stumble back against your countertop looking for stability. From him showing up unannounced in your apartment to this, it’s all a bit much to take in. You’re grateful Bru-Batm-Bruce doesn’t immediately intrude on your personal space, giving you room to breathe. There’s a good chance you would have fully freaked out on him if he did.

You take measured breaths, careful to not let yourself spiral. Although, if there was ever an appropriate time to do so, this would be it. This is a lot to put on anyone, especially so abruptly. The answer to why Bruce couldn’t use his incredible intellect to plan this better will evade you forever.

Once you can trust yourself to not start panicking again, you look back over at him. You have no idea what comes next. This is not how you ever imagined meeting Bruce. You thought maybe one day he would begin to write back again, leading to the decision to meet for a coffee or dinner. It seemed realistic – a bit more adult. This feels like something out of a dream.

You close your eyes again, trying to take it all in. He’s still there when you crack them back open. To be sure, you give yourself a little pinch on your arm. If Bruce finds that odd, he doesn’t say anything about it. 

Needing to do something before addressing the elephant – or rather bat – in the room, you grab a glass down and pour yourself some water. It feels strange to ignore him, so you offer you uninvited guest water as well, to which he shakes his head no. It at least feels like a semi-normal moment in all of this.

From there, you wander back to your living room, taking up an end of the couch. Bruce follows, politely letting you lead the way. You wonder if he’s told many others or if he just knows this is best for you. You have absolutely no idea of where to begin.

“Um, hi I guess,” you venture.

You’re by no means an expert in the expressions of Bruce Wayne, but you’re willing to bet that’s the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Hello,” Bruce says.

“So you uh, you’re the Batman then? I feel like I should have been able to put that together sooner.”

“I would have been surprised if you did.” You’re not certain on how to respond to that. Your shock must come across clearly on your face, because Bruce is quick to clarify. “I’ve worked hard to keep people from putting the pieces together.”

Not many must know his true identity then. You can’t say it’s surprising, given Bruce’s usual habits about divulging personal information. 

You’re not too proud to admit that sitting across from him in his full suit, even as beat up as it is, is incredibly intimidating. The reason for the bat motif evades you, but looking at him helps you to understand more. He looks large in the suit, an imposing figure by anyone’s standard. His eyes stand out against all the black in stark contrast, the icy blue pinning you in place. It makes it a bit hard to think straight.

“Would you mind um, taking off the–?” You hope you’re not overstepping. He’s trusted you with his identity, but you’re not sure if that also means trusting you with his face.

Your breath hitches as his hands move. The cowl comes off in one fluid motion. 

You’ve seen photos of him of course, even recently, but being face to face is something else altogether. The tabloids have at least one thing right. He’s gorgeous.

His hair is long and in severe need of a brush after a night under the helmet, and yet it works. There’s black makeup hastily smudged all around his eyes, maintaining the contrast of his eyes. Stubble dusts his sharp jawline, drawing your attention to his plush lower lip. You’re not sure if this has calmed your nerves or made them worse. He looks like he was just dragged out of a gutter, which for all you know he might have been, and it’s as though he stepped off the cover of a magazine.

You suddenly realize you should say something more instead of continuing to stare. “I guess I can’t pretend it wasn’t really you after all this,” you half-heartedly joke. You’re not sure if it lands.

Bruce readjusts slightly on the couch, drawing your eyes back to his injuries. Whatever serum he had you pump him full of clearly did its job. The exposed skin still looks angry, but cuts are already stitching back together and there's no longer any active bleeding.

The state of his suit is something else. It looks like he was chewed up and spit back out only to be chewed up again. Massive holes are torn clean through, numerous singe marks across his chest. He's lucky to have not lost the pocket where he was keeping that emergency vial. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, “I was a little worried you’d die on me in the middle of the night.” 

“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.” You think that was meant to be comforting.

Once again, you’re not really sure where to go from here. It feels like your life has now been turned upside down from when he first stumbled into your apartment last night. Simply patching up Batman would have been plenty to deal with and process, but now you know his identity too? Calling this whole thing strange is underselling it.

It peaks your curiosity though. 

“Why now?” you ask.

Bruce's eyebrows twitch upward for just a moment. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, why tell me now? You've been Batman for a while and I can hardly remember the last time you wrote to me," you explain. "There's essentially no point in telling me so why? How can you even trust me?"

You wish Bruce wasn't so hard to read. It's nerve-wracking, unable to tell what he's thinking or feeling. It's also entirely unfair, knowing that your heart is on your sleeve.

"How long have we been writing to each other?" Bruce asks. You're sure the non-sequitur has a point, so you let it slide.

"Since we were nine. Although I'm not sure the past few years count as actual correspondence." 

"It counts," Bruce asserts, “Trusting you is the easy part. I’m sure my childhood secrets would have fetched a fair price to the right reporter."

Bruce’s mention of selling his letters off is the first time the thought has ever crossed your mind. It makes sense, you suppose. There were definitely times where that extra cash would have come in handy, yet it was never something you considered. You didn't ask for Bruce Wayne as your pen pal and he didn't ask for you – who are you to betray that sacred childhood bond?

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re choosing now to tell me,” you say.

“Your address was the only one I could remember last night.”

You've never been more touched and more concerned at the same time. You caution moving slightly closer to him on the couch.

"You still didn't have to tell me," you say. Bruce looks confused, so you press on. "You woke up first. You could have easily left and told me sometime later."

"Would you have preferred that?"

You think on it for a moment. "Well I guess not but-"

"You deserved to know," he interrupts. "I came here and you cared for me having no idea who I was. The explanation was warranted."

He's not really wrong. The explanation does and doesn't make sense, but what seems to matter most is that Bruce is so certain of it. There's not a single trace of doubt – you're not sure what to do with so much confidence in yourself.

You think back to all the years of silence from him. So many years where you filled him in on nearly everything in your life while learning none about his. Any sane person probably would have stopped writing. Any sane person probably would have changed his PO box and yet, neither of you did.

Sitting across from him now on your well worn couch, you suppose you have an answer for all his unsent letters. You know what he was doing. Sure, the details are missing, but you know and for now that's plenty.

Something more significant than childhood letters are shared between you now. Neither of you are unaware of the shift.

"I need to get back," Bruce tells you. "Alfred is probably worried."

You remember the name of his childhood butler from his letters. It warms your heart to know he's still a large presence in Bruce's life. He always seemed to have the young heir's best interests at heart. 

"Will I see you again?" you ask. You desperately hope this meeting isn't bound for more years of silence from his end.

Bruce slips his cowl back on. "I'll be in touch."

You nod, watching him walk across your small apartment back towards the window. The ever-present clouds in the Gotham sky should provide enough shadow for him to sneak away undetected. He's certainly had enough practice.

Bruce is half out the window when he turns back to you and asks, "Why did you keep writing?"

You don't have to think hard about your answer and give it almost immediately. "I didn't want you to be lonely."

His mask obscures most of his face. You hope that he's touched and not offended – the thought of growing up alone in that Tower just always struck you as empty.

Bruce gives you an almost imperceptible nod and then he's gone. You hope he won't be a stranger.

A week later, there's a letter in your mailbox.

Comments & reblogs are always appreciated 💕

Tagging a few people who seemed interested:) @skeletoncowboys @green-socks @nobodys-baby-now @moonlight-prose @autumnleaves1991-blog @1800-fight-me

[meara-eldestofthemall]

Hello again bat-gran 👋

I appreciated your answer on the Robins situation, it intrigued me.

How would you have written Damian/where would you like his writing to go?

Poor Damian is simultaneously the Batfamily character with the most potential and the worst possible character development. If you go all the way back to his introduction it was fairly clear that readers were supposed to loathe him. He was an arrogant and rude little princeling with a chip on his shoulder the size of Cleveland.

Damian was such a brat that he even managed to exhaust Alfred's patience, which is a real feat considering the man raised Bruce.

Everyone knows that in his later interaction with Tim in this issue (Batman #657) Damian proves what a superior person he is by killing the first criminal he came across. He then tossed the decapitated head, (with a grenade in it's mouth) at Tim to make a point.

The most important thing to take away from this is that Damian has been raised in a cult that operates on the same upward mobility scheme as the Klingon Empire. In order to get ahead, you kill the person in your way. That' s exactly what Damian tried to do.

Damian was originally conceived as an anti-hero at least and a full blown villain at worst. He was supposed to be a great source of angst for Batman to darkly brood over for years. The only problem was that about half of the fandom loved hyper-violent, rude and nasty Damian. DC now had to figure out how to redeem him enough to work with Batman.

They actually did come up with a method that worked. During Battle For The Cowl Damian saved Tim's life in a very Damian way.

This was the moment that could have changed everything. This is where I would have had Damian reluctantly (very reluctantly) allow the idea that maybe his father's way of doing things had a tiny bit of merit after all. To be honest, I wouldn't have changed much of the Dick Grayson Batman and Damian Wayne Robin arc. You had a much sunnier Batman with Robin as the grim dark little gremlin a lot of people loved. Damian actually showed some positive character development without losing the edge that made him popular.

What would I have changed? This...

All the progress Damian made was unceremoniously tossed onto the garbage heap. The moment the kid got angry with Tim he went right into assassin mode and tried to kill him - again. Worst of all, there were no real consequences for his actions. Instead we're supposed to sympathize with the fact that Damian's feelings were hurt.

The impression left with the reader is that Damian maybe got a stern to talking to from Dick but that was about it. It does not help the conversation above seems to lay the blame on Tim for not having a stronger password.

This is the crux of the problem that followed Damian for years. DC seemed to actively undo any positive character development to keep him static. Damian was not allowed to be anything other than rude, arrogant and hyper-violent. He worked abysmally with Bruce's Batman, so much so that it set in stone the idea that Bruce was incapable of being a good Dad to Damian. Damian's character waffled between hero, anti-hero and kind-of-sort-of villain repeatedly. Not too long ago they were setting him up to be a bad guy yet again. Remember when Damian had his own private prison and then resigned from being Robin?

Why would DC continually do that to a character with so much potential?

What I would do with Damian is what we're now seeing. He went off and had his obligatory Robin-right-of-passage adventure on a mysterious island. Damian came back a better character. His relationship with Tim is improved enough that they still bicker dreadfully but are actually more like brothers.

I really like what I'm seeing in Batman and Robin. This is how Damian should be written. He's still got his edge and doesn't suffer fools well but he's working towards a positive future.

So, if you'll forgive this pedantic old Bat-Gran, my point is that what I want to see, what I as a writer would do, is keep him more on the path of the current Batman and Robin series and less of what we see in the current Batman series.

Most of all I would write Damian consistently, not vary the basics of his personality from book to book. That is the cardinal flaw that has always plagued DC.

Who I want Damian to be is a young man who is just beginning to discover that he can choose his own future. My version of Damian can honor his heritage but still move forward into the best version of himself. He can be someone who, perhaps like many teens, has no idea what he'll be in ten years but does know that it's a path he chooses for himself, not one forced on him by either the Waynes or the Al Ghuls.

I just hope I live long enough to see that. I'm already 67 so I hope DC stops messing around gets to it, please.

So, are you sorry you asked?

[lorkonsghost]

I'm sad today for a few reasons work, and the soon to be three year anniversary of a friends death I will now tell you why I prefer bad mother Talia and why his favorite Robin was Damian Wayne. My friend was raised from birth to 14 years old not knowing who his dad was and mildly abusive mother I don't want talk about all thing she did because she's going to take up most of story and the sole reason my friend dead so fuck her. But when my friend was 14 because his mom got fired from her job and she didn't want to actually go looking for a job she dropped my friend off at his bio dads told him he was his son and left. Now like Damian he looked just like his dad and his dad had no clue he had a kid and unlike Damian he had no siblings and his mom 100% had no good relationship with his dad and definitely took advantage of drunk college kid who 16 years younger than her. So imagine your 35 year old man and the woman who he had sex with once almost 15 years ago tells you have kid and he looks like you but dose that even matter she just abandon her kid at his door step and like Bruce Wayne he doesn't kick the kid out or blame the kid but has DNA test done to prove he his well you know what happened he was his kid. So know he goes to court to get parental rights so he doesn't have to go back with his mom. Now some more Damian Wayne similarities he was angry who had undiagnosed autism who was neglected by his mother was desperately touched starved but his dad was a saint and tried to help him the best ways he could. Let me tell you I wish this story had happy ending but he got good few years after that we met up read comics together at my place since me and my family have decent comic collection I can't remember the run name on top of my head but we read the run Damian was introduced he was so happy a kid who had same shit hand dealt I remember my first time reading hating how Talia was depicted but now it my favorite Talia because everytime I read it I remember my friend and his shit hand and how his dad tried to help his son. Now I should explain why it's his mom fault my friend dead he was diagnosed with something I don't feel totally ok with sharing since you could find out who was with it but safe to say he was told he needed to be in assisted living situation shortly after his mom tried to force the court to put him under her care again since she would be given tax exemption from him just living their and she hired a really good lawyer and my friend saw his and his father's hand in the case and their was a good chance she could take him back so instead of even chance with living with her again he killed himself the trail never even made it to court. This is why I like bad mother Talia because every time I write something she deserves her getting her just deserts I feel a little better it's or anything bad happening to her I know it was the creator being islamophobic I don't care if can write legally distinct fanfic about a person who I hate and getting beaten up I'll take it.

I feel like you guys are owed some more facts about him he used to call his dad his Batman when he talked about him. He eventually had a step mother who actually tried to be a mom but sadly she only knew him for a few months I remember her crying the hardest at his funeral how it wasn't fair she couldn't hold him longer apparently she couldn't have children so when she learned her boyfriend at the time had a kid although he was adult she was happy. He liked Godzilla a lot he had some of black and white movies. He was the only person I ever met who liked the batman and Robin movie the one bat suit nipples and Mr freeze. He had hated when people ignored him he would start to hit your arm until you at least acknowledged his existence he tried this once with a teacher and he got detention so fast. He wanted to work in 3d animation. He owned but never read the homestuck epilogue books. I only got one thing from him sadly his 3d model folder I would show you guys his work but I can't look at his art without crying so I rather not.

Goodbye my friend my Damian Wayne from your Jon Kent

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

My Head Is Stripped

First posted: August 7, 2019

Focuses on: Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent

Favorite bookmark: "things that make me happy"

Tier: Middle-ish

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

I am a deeply unhappy sick person. I rarely get sick, so when I do finally succumb, I am miserable and I, regrettably, make no effort to keep the misery from spreading. (Germs, yes. Misery, no.)

Clark's rambling, grumbly, petulant opening thoughts are very me.

Clark tightened his grip on his fabric shield and shuffled toward the sound. X-ray vision felt like too much work, so he leaned in and pressed his eye to the peephole. He wiped the moisture from his eye and tried again.

This fic was, if I remember correctly, one of those that was incredibly easy to write because it was less like creating and more like dictating. I sat back and watched them do their thing and just had to find the right ways to describe what was happening—or, in the case of Clark choosing to look through the peephole, explain why what I was seeing happen did actually make sense to be happening.

When the door opened, Bruce Wayne blinked at him. Just once. It was Bruce’s way of showing deliberate surprise, like taking a beat.

It's a very cat mannerism of him and I love it. I think I've used it in other fics, too.

Bruce Wayne didn’t look like he had ever wanted to discorporate in his life. Artfully tousled hair, tastefully expensive clothes without so much as a wrinkle, a good, healthy tan—even his shoes were shiny. Clark wanted to punt him into the sun.

Like I said, he's a crankypants.

Or the way Clark’s gripe came out closer to Dank ew, Wod’s Greadess Dedekdiv, wad gab id away?

I sat on my bed in my room quietly sounding this one out to figure out how to write it phonetically.

“I didn’t think you could get sick.” Bruce made a dismissive gesture down the length of Clark’s body, then turned away.

This specific line came back to BITE ME in a later fic in this series. We have elected to roundly ignore the error.

“Feed a cold, Clark.” “What?” Clark asked, though the word was muffled by the couch curtain. “Feed a cold, starve a fever. It’s a saying.”

I had to google it. I can never remember which goes with which.

Something cold and hard touched his face. Clark jerked and cracked open one eye. A thermometer hovered in front of his face. “Where?” Clark croaked. “I don’t have one.” “It’s mine.” At Clark’s look, Bruce shrugged. “Kids. Someone’s always sick at my house. Besides, I said I thought it was code, not that I was sure.”

Another moment for explanations, knowing Bruce absolutely would insist on taking Clark's temperature but also clocking that Clark would never own one and it felt a bridge too far to be like "oh it's on his belt next to the shark repellent spray."

Cool fingertips ghosted behind Clark’s ear, lingering just long enough to gauge the heat of his skin, then disappeared as Bruce retreated into the kitchen. “You don’t feel warm. Leave it in until it beeps, then tell me what the display says.”

He's such a dad. And no toxic masculinity here folks!!!

In the kitchen, Bruce was silent and Clark could picture Bruce’s long, flat-browed look. Barry called it his Don’t be stupid look.

That's what my friends called my dad's look. And mine. It's an inherited trait.

Also, Bruce mentions the thermometer's blue button which was literally just me describing my thermometer at the time, thank you, Target.

When the thermometer beeped, Clark pulled it out and squinted at the display. “Thirty-six? That doesn’t seem right.” “It’s in Celsius. You don’t have a fever. Good. How did you get sick?”

I thiiiiiink the chat had been having a discussion before about Alfred keeping the Manor stocked and this being his preferred thermometer brand. Or maybe just what Bruce was used to reading.

“You weren’t even there,” Clark whined, returning to the matter of the sickly translator.

No, because it wouldn't have happened if Bruce had been there.

There was a tug on Clark’s quilt, and the bare foot that had fallen off the end of the couch was tucked back in.

Such a daaaaaaaad! I was so delighted mentally picturing Bruce in his true element, sleeves rolled up, puttering from living room to kitchen and back as he got Clark's crap in order.

“Uhhh…” Clark struggled to sit up and keep himself fully wrapped in the quilt. “Head. Hurts. Feels… full? Like, full.” “Use your words, Mr. Reporter.”

Bruce grunted. Use your words… Ha.

I love them.

“I understand the saying is ‘Game recognizes game.’” Bruce gave another shrug. “I have the experience.”

I was dyyyyyyyinggggggg to use that line and the comments section rewarded me for the choice.

“Budge over,” he instructed, nudging Clark to the end of the couch so he could sit and rest the tray on the coffee table. Clark scooted and mentally added the phrase to his running list of words that made Bruce sound like Alfred.

I did make sure to weave that back in again in... N&N, I think? Yeah. In one of the Tim chapters.

“Bruce, I don’t think some salt and heat are going to fix this,” Clark mumbled.

Clark is so ANNOYING to make sick when he's not also robbed of his invulnerability. So many things we do to comfort sick people don't WORK if your skin doesn't respond to heat or cold or pressure!!

Bruce frowned down at the quilt. “Your layers are wrong. Where’s your linen closet?”

Bruce is correct, it is VITAL to get your layers right, or you'll overheat or freeze at just the wrong time and there might be too much PRESSURE and if that happens you'll just want to lay down and die because you're already sick and everything is the worst.

Bruce placed Clark’s head on his thigh just above his knee and said, “I’m going to place some eucalyptus oil under your nose. It’s an irritant to human skin, but it shouldn’t bother you, and the smell will help.”

I genuinely did not know eucalyptus oil was an irritant before writing this fic. My mom used to put it in a diffuser when we were sick, and I liked the smell a lot. Clark would likely not own a diffuser and it would be bulky for Bruce to carry.

A calloused thumb swiped gently at the corners of Clark’s eyes without comment, as if the tears were nothing more than the product of sinuses gone mad.

I just really needed them to be soft together, okay

Bruce’s hands, steady and sure, began to gently press against his face. “Facial massage can relieve sinus pressure,” Bruce explained. Clark doubted that any amount of pressing and massaging could ease pressure in a skull built to withstand an atomic bomb. And maybe it didn’t, but the contact felt good, and when Bruce’s blunted fingers scraped upward and began running through Clark’s hair, he sighed again and let himself relax against Bruce’s soft Italian slacks.

This was me DESPERATELY wanting Bruce to play with Clark's hair because that's all I want when I'm miserable and sick, and justifying making it happen any possible way I could. My dad, when he was trying to get us to sleep, would trace his finger across our brows, down the bridge of our nose, and across our cheekbones in a loop, too, and I wanted to add a little of that.

Clark half-expected a gruff “Goodnight, Clark-boy” from his pa.

My mom tells me this is a reference to The Waltons. It's a TV show.

Instead, Clark was enfolded in the subtle musk of Bruce’s aftershave as lips pressed to his forehead.

I wrote this whole thing so I get a little treat for me.

And in the cruelest of ironies, I posted this and not two weeks afterwards was sick and so so so so so so sad I didn't have a Bruce to take care of me.