#Batfam x reader

[invincibledc]

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐌𝚰𝐋𝐘 𝐗 𝐒𝐏𝚰𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

Protege of Peter Parker, in their dimension/universe, Peter Parker use to babysit them. But due to the curious mind of a fourteen year old, they followed Peter when he left them. Thinking that they were asleep but really was following him. Looking over a cornered they didn’t notice a spider crawling its way to them in weird colors. It bites them, making them yelp. That currently caused the attention of a certain spider human who webs then up. Long story short, y/n whines to be his sidekick, I mean who wouldn’t want to help THE Spiderman! And especially when he use to watch them.

And you became Webster, you’re still working on the name. But still! You found out how the spider you got hit by gave you powers… but it’s kinda freaky to shoot out your own webs..

It all happened when you were patrolling with Parker, making small little web cobs in your neat spider suit that apparently was made by some stark guy. He’s kinda like an uncle to you perhaps? Like those rich uncles that let you go crazy and but whatever you want to just get you out of his hair.

Either way, your adhd is off the charts as you suddenly focus due to a very loving smack to the back of your head. The patrol goes wonderful, with just webbing up muggers, thugs, and robbers.

Dusting your hands off, smirking behind your expressive lenses of your mask, you couldn’t help but web a guy to a wall.

“Better think twice before mugging innocent civilians!” The mugger grunted with annoyance. “You little sh—” you web his mouth shut, cupping your ear. “What’s that? Yeah let’s not, we’re keeping this friendly.” You then looked at yourself that’s holding your device reading this as of now. Yes you. You pointed to yourself, but let’s stop breaking this wall. “Can’t believe this guy is actually wanting to ruin this. I mean can you believe it?!”

The mugger gave you a weird look as you were.. talking to yourself? He struggled against the webs, you finished your monologue and web swing off. “Bye bye mug man!” Childish giggling was echoed into the air.

“Man! Another night another— PORTAL?!” You looked to see a weird portal infront of you. You let go of your web, going to shoot it at another lamp post to avoid it. I mean literally, it wasn’t the usual portal Miguel would forced open for you. But the portal said “SIKE!” and grabbed you up.

Now here you are in some dark city that looks like New York… but more gloomy and stinks! Covering your nose through your mask, you gagged. “Ugh! Is this how it smells when changing babies diapers?” You walked around, before web shooting. As you were web swinging, you pulled out your less dominant arm and looked at the watch to contact anyone.

“Wonder if I can contact Peter from here..” you swung yourself into a street lamp, landing with a crouching formation. You dial around the thingy, “cmonnn.” Nothing. Groaning annoyed, you covered your face into your hands. You then looked at the readers reading this now.

“It’s not like I’m gonna be in some trouble in the top of five minutes.” You smiled as you gave the readers a peace sign before swinging off.

“WHY DID I JINX MYSELF!” You exclaimed, swinging through anything your webs can grab onto. You were being chased some 10 year old! You’re fourteen for crying out loud, no way you are being chased by some midget, but this kid got a katana! And the only person you know that has a katana is either Deadpool or your best friend who idolizes DP.

Each web was cut down with these bat shaped boomerangs or whatever you thought they were. You didn’t care, not at all. Only thing you cared for was just surviving this angry kid who got mad at you calling him a so called “midget”. You started to get tired, swinging yourself around a corner and hiding behind a dumpster. You listened closely to footsteps, for a few minutes you don’t hear anything.

Lettting out a breath of relief, you get up. “Hah, no one can catch the ultimate spider—” and you were captured in a net. The boy with a R on his costume glared behind his mask. “You’re infuriating.” “Hey that’s a big word for you.” Being cocky, the kid kicked your rib which made you groan. Okay, now you wish you had spider senses. You were then dragged to some cave?

So…. Why in the world where you tied up by some kid with a katana. And why were they’re like four other guys staring them down weirdly.

What’s going on?!

[kenyummy]

✰ 03. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 03. each coin can be flipped twice.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: you guys don't know true pain until you have to copy and paste each individual paragraph into a new draft because you forgot how tumblr drafts work </3

n e ways getting into the batfams characterisation yipiieeeee . i tried to incorporate overthinking into tims part realistically bc that's lowkey how i overthink things but hey. im open to respectful criticism. ive also been consuming a lot of batfam media and i tried to my take on their guilt and how it plays into the crazy thing hagaashhaha im going insane fml

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

You'd always been far too normal. That's what had driven you, all these years, to such a bitter nature. It wasn't like you'd done anything wrong���you'd done everything a regular person would do, and that was the problem.

This kind—your kind—of normality was impossible for a family like yours.

Impossible for them to understand. Relate to. See. Always falling behind, watching as their costumes and capes flutter in the wind, blowing their vision of you. Too wrapped up in the latest villain to spot the regularity in their life.

You'd wake up at 8am, eat a slice of toast with yoghurt and mixed berries—do pilates, and go on with your day.

(Your family would stay up till 8, fighting the crime that riddled the Gotham streets with an iron fist—sneaking out of the house to play dress up with a bunch of mentally insane criminals.)

You'd spend your nights at home, having done everything you'd needed to that day—lazing around with a comic book in hand.

(Your family were far too busy most nights at Arkham—preventing their hundredth breakout and the spread of fear toxin.)

You'd watch, pupils dilated as your siblings, your father came home bruised, beat, and bloodied (with whose blood—you could only guess).

You'd watch in agonising silence as they'd shoo you off after you'd peek from behind their doorframe—saying this kind of work wasn't suitable for eyes like yours.

Those same eyes dimmed that day—staring blankly into nothing as the sight of that sickening crimson red became more common to you, with each passing day.

Dripping down onto the ground—you'd never be able to get rid of that blood. No matter how hard you scrubbed the floorboards, there would always be that stain of red.

You'd grip the sheets—nails digging into mesh fabric—with a steel-knuckled hold. You'd draw what it would be like to be one of them. That same blood-red suit—yet with a different kind of venom to a bat.

Crawling up a water spout—you, the spider—were washed out by the bitterness enrapturing your heart that was once full and blooming like the most beautiful of gardens.

Venom drips from your fangs and yet left unbitten. Never poisoning anything but your own tongue.

To be overlooked and unseen with the most brilliant mind a god could conjure; the world, your family—may never love a spider, but you will find somebody, someday, who will.

Tim Drake was not used to that expression on your face.

... Actually—he wasn't really used to any expression on your face. For a moment, it felt more like a blur to him than anything. Memories of you—they were few and far between.

Except that look of pity you'd always seem to give them. The image appeared in his mind suddenly, for whatever odd reason. That sad, almost puppy-ish, expression that he'd never really given a second thought.

(Though—it made you appear more of a baby to him.)

Perhaps he'd just gotten used to it. After all this time, what could've possibly changed?

He was wrapped up with something strange given to him by Bruce when he'd seen you. A strange, web-like substance—he was just getting ready to study it when it dissolved like nothing were ever there.

Like silk, it was soft. Like glue, it was sticky. Like fibers, it was stringey. Yet—after just a few hours, it was as if it never existed. Like it were nothing but a bad dream.

Bruce and Damian talked about it like it were a spiderweb—fitting, considering the hero that wielded it, they described as looking more arachnid than human.

Regardless—his mind was already frazzled and buzzing with all kinds of thoughts. Spider. Spider Web? Spider.

Where is that fucking web?

The stress crawls under his skin like bugs and he itches. The red left over is so familiar to him—but perhaps never the same at all.

(That same red you'd seen with those big, glassy eyes—unlike that motionless gaze you'd give him sparingly. If he bled again, would you look at him kindly like that once more?)

Then, a shoulder crashes into his. Hard. Enough to almost knock the vial out of his hands. The frustration is just about to bubble over—the words crawling up his throat like bile and his chest tightens with that familiar burst of rage.

(Tim, crash-out, Drake—Steph called him once.)

But he stops.

It's only you.

Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be at school? He hadn't been to school in a while—being a vigilante leaves a guy's schedule pretty packed—but he's sure...

"[name]? What are you doing here? Isn't it school hours...?" He asks, curiously.

You blink, face blank. He can't get a read on that face. He simply can't decipher it. It bothers him more than it probably should've. "I felt sick, so I decided to come home. Still a bit frazzled from... you know."

His heart beats faster. What? You went to school? You really went to school?

(Even if he realised it beforehand, it's like the shock runs through him again. What's wrong with him?)

You went to school even though you were shot a few days ago? Did that really happen? Did he... not realise? He's supposed to know this stuff, isn't he? Isn't he the smart one? Doesn't he keep tabs on everybody? Doesn't he look at you?

A cold chill fills his body, and he bites down hard on the inside of his cheek. Before he can stop himself, the words spill.

"...Bruce is going to be worried. You know how he feels when you and Damian skip."

You glance to the side, considering something. He wants to know. Will you tell him? He feels like he knows nothing about you anymore. It's dehibilitating.

Since when have you brushed them off so easily? You were never like this before. You used to preen at a simple headpat (not from him—but you seemed to especially love your two oldest brothers) and practically glow when somebody talked with you.

"I think I'll live. Bye." You shrug.

His heart nearly beats out of his chest. What? Why are you acting like this? Don't you care?

Why are you acting like you hate it? You hate them? You don't care? What's wrong with you?

Did you get a concussion when you were shot? Did you hit your head and forget everything? Did you lose your mind after getting lead poisoning? Is this even you? What happened when you were shot?

Every possible question excluding—what has he done?

The bullet he saw in your shoulder flashes in his mind. When Jason practically kicked the door down, carrying your heavily breathing body bridal style and yelling for Bruce to get his ass over here.

Why were you out in the first place? Why weren't you at home? What happened to you? Why were you shot? What could you have done?

He had no time to think about it before. Not when he was so busy, and Riddler was causing up a stir.

Now, he is crumbling.

You're walking away, but his vision shakes. He feels like he's going to crumble. He hates it. This feeling. The feeling of knowing he simply just can't figure this out. He's mad. At you, or himself—he isn't quite sure. Perhaps a mix of both.

Why have you changed? Why did he not realise? Had you even changed? Did he ever know you?

He nearly crushes the vial in his grip. His hand reaches out, to grasp you. Your shoulder. The bullet lodged deep within you. Maybe if he got rid of it, you'd go back. To normal. You'd be your normal self again.

He feels it so deeply.

That crippling, nihilating urge to—

He stops. Watching you walk away. Fast. So fast. He can't catch up. No amount of training could've allowed him to walk alongside his little sibling.

Perhaps he found himself caught in that spider's silky trap—bound and unmoving as he just couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.

The empty vial doesn't concern him much anymore. He stares at it with eyes as hollow as the glass is.

Tim wonders when everything changed.

Dick Grayson watched your convulsing body with shaking eyes. A bullet lodged in your shoulder and crimson dripping onto the ground in a sickening rhythm. He couldn't reach out. He couldn't have touched your face. Not when Jason held you like that. Like a guard dog. His bloody helmet slamming to the ground just for Dick to see the absolute fury on his little brother's face.

Pupils blown—Dick knows what's going on. Better than any of the rest of them, he'd even go as far as to say. He's manic. Absolutely manic. Shouting and yelling for anyone—asking what Bruce was doing, letting you out alone this late. What he was fucking expecting.

Nobody speaks. Nobody can. What could they possibly say? That they didn't notice? That nobody did?

Jason might have taken them all on in your honour if he had truly said those words out loud. He always would've, even if he never stayed for long.

Dick almost wants to sock Jason in the face for keeping you away, so close to his own heart.

(He would've done the same, if only he had you. If only you would let him.)

The only thing he can see in his brothers' arms is that child who used to hide in the most obvious of spots. Crouching behind that large TV with the tips of their hair peeking out. Who used to laugh so gleefully when everyone pretended they couldn't find them.

He sees you, and nearly falls over.

Dick Grayson isn't a stranger to blood. Blood had followed his footsteps wherever he goes. He is made of the blood of everyone he lost and fears to lose.

He didn't think you'd fit into the former so quickly.

(You never thought you were either—did you?)

He can't do anything when he sees Jason carry you out. Slipping into a car with Bruce and Alfred and driving off, far past the speed limit.

He is powerless to move. He is useless. As he was when he watched his parents fall. When he was held back by Bruce when he found that vile man.

He hadn't felt like this for a long, long time.

He was the perfect one. He was the best of them. The first. Everything Batman was supposed to be. Nightwing. Robin. Doing everything he could to be what Bruce wanted.

He was the perfect one.

What use was that when your blood stains the hardwood floors?

What use was him not remembering what you looked like until this moment? The only time he'd ever seen you was when a bullet was lodged in your shoulder, and your body was practically convulsing.

... This should never have happened.

You were always the normal one. The most regular. Never tainted by the horrors of Gotham. Bright. Kind. Your eyes were always so kind. Pitiful. You'd always pity them. Wanting to help, but how could he possibly let you?

How could he possibly let you see the shattered expression on his face each time he'd seen you hurting? (Even if it was you hurting for them.)

You never should've...

He stops his own train of thought.

Why were you out, anyway? Hadn't you known how awfully terrible Gotham is at night?

Hadn't he... warned you...?

Dick walks off, eyes following his retreating figure—he can't find it within himself to care. He storms upstairs—almost frantically.

Everything is so quiet. Nobody here. Nobody waiting here like there usually is.

Where you usually are. The end of the hallway. It's brighter over here. The windows more open. The floorboards more bleached by the sun than back where his childhood room used to be.

He almost kicks the door open when his sweaty hands can't get a good grip on the doorknob.

(He can't. He can't destroy the barrier between you both, no matter how hard he tries.)

It slips open, eventually. Dick takes in the sight, silently, eyes darting around.

There's dust littering the air, highlighted by glittering light. The glow of the sun pours into your room like molten honey. Shining down onto your carpet.

There is nothing else.

Your room is so empty. If he didn't know better, he'd thought this were a guest room. Scuffed—but suitable for a short visit nonetheless.

How long have you stayed here?

Dick tries to ignore the bleakness that fills his head when he tries to answer his own question.

He can't bring himself to step inside. Not without you there. He stands in the doorway, as lost as he felt when he world came crashing down with that tightrope.

He feels like a little kid all over again. As helpless as a little kid is in this world.

As helpless as you were.

As helpless as you are.

Your face looked like a blur for all these years. Lingering in the background, but never for long. His nails dig into the calloused flesh of his palm. Hardened from years of fighting, protecting all he cared about. All those he failed to protect before.

He didn't do anything, did he? Not for so long. For as long as Jason died, was it?

... How long was that?

He wasn't sure when you slipped from his mind. So caught up with those beside him—he hadn't seen you slip behind, silently.

That little kid, staring up with tearful eyes. Asking where Jason was. Asking when they could all play together again.

Behind the capes, the masks—behind him, there was you.

Dick would've fallen over if he hadn't caught himself on the doorframe.

How could he have possibly, ever let you out of his sight? How can he stand to look at you when he let this happen? The most regular thing in his life. Something he had never given a second glance.

His chest hurts with a white-hot pain that stings his entire nervous system.

The best of them all—it was never him. It was always you, wasn't it?

The one keeping him grounded was you—he feels like his heart can't beat properly. Clutching it hard, nothing works. The ache stings, but nothing feels worse than his mind spiralling with thoughts of you laying in a hospital gown with red seeping out your side.

He will never, ever let something like this happen to you again.

Dick will let you know you'll never need to worry about anything again as long as your favourite big brother is here.

taglist: @hello-bina @cosmosluckycharms @1abi @yhin-gg @insideoutjulie @bluepanda08 @omnivirgo @vanessa-boo @dind1n @welpthisisboring @lunaetiicsaystuff @marsmabe @atanukileaf @findingjaxx @4mrplumi @bunniotomia @lostsomewhereinthegarden @bat1212 @gaychaosgremlin @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @randomlyappearingartist @cxcilla @spidermanluvr444 @cruzerforce4256 @mybones537 @xjesterxjacksx @nirvanaxx1942 @djpuppy-kittens @br33zy-blizzardz @moon0goddess @0sunnyside01 @mei-simp @redsakura101 @the-dumber-scaramouche @wizzerreblogs @lovemiss-vale @deathbynarcisstick @allycat4458 @wonmyheart @luckyangelballoon @one-piecelover @hartwyrm @horror-lover-69 @maria-trisha @4rachn3 @galaxypurplerose @duskeras @coffeeaddictxd @lithiumval @kaz-playz

if you asked to be on the taglist but aren't there, make sure your account is able to be tagged and ask me again!!!

[thewitchblue]

"Mooooooom!"

You heard across the house. Little Jason came running to you with an overbearing Dick trailing behind him, doing cartwheels.

"Mama, he won't leave me alone!"

Jason clutched onto a book he was trying to read and hid behind your legs. You wanted to laugh but managed to hold it back.

He peaked at Dick from his poor hiding spot. Now he was doing backflips. Dick wanted his attention, but he tried everything, and he couldn't find any other way to ask for his attention besides doing circus tricks. You asked,

"Dick, what do you want from Jason?"

Jason wrapped one of his arms around your leg. He only wanted to read in peace. He thought he finally found a corner in the library Dick hadn't found yet.

"I wanted to play a game with him, but he was busy reading, and I needed his attention to ask."

You kissed the top of Jason's head. Your sweet little boy, Jason, looked at Dick as if he were an alien. Surely, there are much easier ways to get his attention. He couldn't have been that engrossed, right? He looked at you with guilt-filled eyes.

"Ma? I didn't mean to ignore him, I promise."

You believe him. He would never intentionally ignore anybody, let alone his friendly big brother. Your heart melted at the teary look he gave you. He doesn't want to be thrown out back onto the streets. He knows you'd never do that, but it's an anxiety that won't go away.

"I believe you, sugar bear. You can listen to him now."

Jason bravely stepped out from his hiding place and walked towards Dick with a nervous smile. He still wanted to stay with you, but he listened to the game Dick proposed.

Your two boys ran off to cause their mischief after Dick explained the game he wanted to play. It was one of his favourite circus games that he knew Jason would love. He couldn't believe it took him months to remember the game.

You casually picked up the book that Jason accidentally dropped in his haste to play. Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief. You read the first page and smiled. He was halfway through the book already and likely has the whole series stacked in a pile in the library.

You decided to put the book on his nightstand in his room. His room was covered in books with an entire wall dedicated only to books, but what's one more?

You smiled fondly as you looked around. Little Jason was so passionate. When he loves something, it's part of his heart forever.

Dick's room is full of circus decorations, and you even made a net on the ceiling to catch him when he inevitably falls from the ceiling after a circus trick.

You smiled as the two ran past you, both giggling like they were having the time of their lives. Until Dick backflipped over the guard rail on the third floor. You screamed,

"RICHARD JOHN GRAYSON!"

You ran to the railing and watched Dick ride the chandelier for five seconds before landing onto the couch like he's done it millions of times.

Horrified, you ran down the staircase. You had to check him for injuries immediately while he laughed. Jason was also terrified.

Dick wasn't even bruised to your relief, but the anger came after the relief. You physically relaxed but still looked at him with anger.

"Little wing, never do that again."

You pulled him into a tight hug and kissed his forehead. You will have to tell Bruce and figure out some way to prevent this from happening again. Maybe put up a mesh wall to stop it.

"You can't take the circus out of the kid, mom."

He winked with a grin. You shook your head with a small smile. He's right, of course, and that's why you have to safeguard the entire manor.

"You are so lucky that chandelier didn't fall. It's the oldest in the house."

He didn't seem too bothered by the idea of falling from the ceiling. You suppose he lost his fear of heights a long time ago.

"I tried to stop him, ma!"

You heard from the staircase. Jason was peaking behind the corner. You chuckled.

"I know, sugar bear. You can't control other people."

Alfred, who had been watching this whole time, said in an exasperated tone,

"I'll put a net up tomorrow, Mrs. Wayne."

You smiled gratefully at the butler, but Dick complained that nets take the fun out of his tricks. You chose to ignore his desire to be without a net and instead turned to Alfred,

"Thank you, Alfred. Dick, I'm putting up nets regardless. You shouldn't be doing dangerous tricks. I'll get you a jungle gym and a trampoline room for your tricks, but please stop doing circus tricks off of railings."

Dick was excited about the compromise and ran off again. To do what? Nobody knows. Jason hugged you. He asked shyly,

"Ma? Where is my book?"

You kissed the top of his head before telling him,

"In your room, sugar bear."

Jason, too, ran off after being told where his book is, almost running into Bruce in the process. He mumbled a quick apology as he scampered away.

Bruce watched on with amusement. Jason was a joy to have as a kid. You kissed Bruce's cheek when he approached you.

"How are you, my queen?"

You laughed at the nickname. He's always coming up with a new nickname, but he's really been enjoying calling you his queen lately.

"I'm recovering from a heart attack. We need another net, my liege."

Bruce groaned. Dick found a new spot to jump off of? He thought he had found all the spots. You said worriedly,

"He's only getting more and more creative, Bruce. I promised to build him a jungle gym and a trampoline room to get him to stop. He rode the chandelier!"

Bruce sighed softly. He can make those changes in the rooms next to the game room. His voice rumbled as he said,

"I'll get it taken care of, my love."

Alfred chimed in with raised eyebrows,

"How many more nets would you like, master Bruce?"

Bruce seemed to do a mental count of all the rooms in the manor and the ones he's blocked off. You have blocked out a good amount of the rooms and railings, but he worries Dick will simply jump off the balconies at this rate.

"At least 10 more. Thank you, Alfred."

You mirrored Bruce's thank you with a grateful smile. Alfred bowed before walking off.

You gave Bruce another kiss as he tucked you into his side. Bruce murmurs to you,

"I went to the orphanage today."

Bruce's baby fever knows no end. You rolled your eyes and said with a laugh,

"Are you collecting children like Pokemon cards?

He promised he hadn't taken in any more this time. He said while wrapping an arm around you,

"Two is plenty."

Well, jokes on you both because you ended up with twelve children, and Bruce has yet to stop. Where did he find them all? You had asked jokingly. At this rate, you are going to have a full house. He didn't have a better answer than "I'm Batman."

[voxslays]

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

ephemeral pt.2

Pairing: Batfam x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k words

A/N: I'm pretty sure I tagged everyone who asked, really sorry if I missed yours if I did

part 1

Six months ago, when you awoke in the hospital after an attack on Gotham by the Witch Boy, Klarion, the nurses informed you that you had given birth to a beautiful baby boy. The only problem was: you couldn’t remember ever being pregnant.

After multiple rigorous tests, you were told that you’d sustained amnesia from a head injury during the chaos. It sounded insane—you couldn’t even remember the baby’s father.

You carried your newborn through the hospital halls, lost and overwhelmed. You had no idea what was about to become of the two of you—you didn’t even know where you lived, and the building where you’d been found had been reduced to rubble.

On your way out, you had the misfortune of passing a specific corridor, clutching Thomas—you didn’t know why you picked that name, it just felt right—to your chest. You watched strangers cry over the loss of their children, their partners, their parents.

You soothed Thomas' soft whimpers into the wisps of hair on his head, covered by a cap one of the nurses had kindly lent you. You didn’t know who you were. You couldn’t remember anything. But Thomas was your son, and regardless of everything, you loved him. You were grateful for him.

At least… you didn’t have to know the pain of losing a child.

And yet—for some reason—you felt like you had lost a child...

That hollow ache in your chest returned as you stood frozen, watching the Bats fight on the rooftop across from you. Killer Moth and Firefly, wreaking havoc with their signature chaos and flames. You were stuck on the roof, having barely escaped with Thomas in your arms when the lobby of your building had caught fire, trapping you above the inferno.

You watched as Red Hood tried to subdue him, cowering at the edge of the rooftop, holding Thomas so tightly that he began to squirm in discomfort but you didn't yield your grip.

The flames were slowly crawling up the building and you were beginning to sweat, feeling tears well in your eyes and a punch to your stomach every time you watched Red Hood receive a punch from Killer Moth.

And then—everything happened—all at once.

Red Robin landed on the rooftop in a blur of red and black, his voice sharp yet calm as he called out to you, “I’m here to get you both out of this. Stay with me.”

But before you could even process his words, Killer Moth lunged—his grotesque figure diving straight for you and Thomas.

It happened in slow motion.

A sharp intake of breath. The weight of Thomas in your trembling arms. The sickening realization that you couldn’t move fast enough.

But then, a streak of leather and metal crashed into Killer Moth mid-air. Red Hood tackled him with brutal force, the two of them colliding before tumbling over the edge of the building.

A scream left your mouth before you had any idea what was going on—

"JASON!"

You wanted to scream and cry in Red Robin's grasp as he carried you off to another building, grappling away. You needed to see if Red Hood was okay—you didn’t know why, but you had to make sure he was unhurt. You couldn't lose him—not again.

If it wasn’t for the crying baby in your arms, you would’ve kicked and wailed.

You don't know what happened in the next couple minutes, it felt like you had been blown in every direction by the wind until you found yourself in the Batcave surrounded by the remaining bats.

Even though they were trying to be subtle, you could still hear their whispered discussions. You weren’t supposed to—after all, they were the Bats, trained in the art of silent communication—but somehow, you could pick up on their words with ease. It was almost like you had been trained for it yourself.

Batman was asking Red Robin how he could bring you here, and Red Robin responded without hesitation, How could I not?

You clutched your baby closer to your chest, seeking comfort in his warmth as an odd sense of familiarity settled over you. The Batcave, with its cold metal and dim lighting, should have felt foreign, but instead, it gnawed at the edges of your mind like a memory just out of reach.

Your eyes flickered around the cavernous space, noting little details that made your stomach twist with unease.

Someone had moved the giant coin. It was supposed to be behind the dinosaur.

Wait.

How did you know there was a coin there?

You looked around, your gaze bouncing between faces, between artifacts, between things that all felt like pieces of a puzzle—except you had no idea what the completed picture was supposed to be. You could only sense when two pieces fit together.

Then, Robin stepped forward.

“Ummi?”

Your brows furrowed. That word—Ummi—why did it feel like you had heard it so recently? Your mind waded through the fog, and behind the haze, a vision emerged. A small figure in green, no taller than the boy standing before you. Sharp eyes. Determined stance.

Where had you seen him before?

Your gaze drifted again, sweeping over the others.

Nightwing. Red Hood. Red Robin. Robin.

Four boys.

Four Robins.

Why did that feel so familiar?

Robin hesitated, his usual sharp confidence laced with something vulnerable.

“Ummi… do you recognize me?”

Your mouth opened—then closed.

Your lips trembled as your heart pounded against your ribs.

You wanted to say yes.

But the words wouldn’t come.

"Ummi! It's me!" He stepped forward again, grabbing your hand and this time it was Red Hood that stopped him, grabbing him by the shoulder.

"Robin, stop it, we shouldn't force mo—her."

"Damian." You whispered and the cave fell silent. All of the boys—your boys—turned to you with expressions of shock. Damian had frozen in his place, watching you with stinging eyes that had widened behind the domino.

"You were—" You gasped, "You were the boy at the park."

He took a step closer to you and it was like all your memories had began to flow back into your brain, like something had finally been unlocked after so long.

Damian reached for you but stopped himself short, almost like he was afraid that you would evaporate into thin air if he touched you.

"I knew it," You gasped, choking on tears, "I knew I had known you from somewhere. My soul knew my baby's precious face anywhere."

His expression that had been so full of longing that day, looking painfully at the person that he wanted but could not have.

You remembered not that long ago, he had been staring up at you with a very different expression...

"Ummi!" Damian ran up to you, a photo frame clutched in his arms. Before you had gotten pregnant, he would have collided with you like a rocket, giggling if you managed to catch and lift him in time or breaking into peals of laughter if he ended up knocking you off your feet.

Since your bump had become noticeable, he had been extremely gentle, refusing even to hug you too tightly. As he neared you, he slowed his sprint in the last few feet, his smile bright with excitement as he clutched his gift to his chest.

"I have a gift for the baby." He announced.

You smiled down at him, gently running your fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp. He leaned into your touch, standing on his tiptoes as you bent down to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Oh, really? May I see it?"

He handed you the picture frame, revealing a beautiful watercolor painting of a group of robins perched on a branch. At first glance, they looked nearly identical, but upon closer inspection, each one was unique. The largest of the four had a lone white feather on the top of its head. Another had soft yellow shading on its wings. A third, with a faint blue tint in its shadow, gazed at the others as if watching over them. And finally, the smallest robin, speckled with green, soared through the air, as if looking down on the remaining three.

Your fingers gently traced over each robin, and in them, you saw the faces of your sons superimposed. Turning to your youngest with a grin, you said, "It's beautiful, Dami."

His smile turned a little shy, "I was hoping you'd hang it in the nursery, so the baby always has his brothers looking over him."

Your eyes misted, and while Damian might have blamed it on the hormones, his thoughtful gesture was what truly moved you beyond words. You hugged and kissed him once again.

"Why don't we find the perfect place to hang it right now?" You suggested.

Hand in hand, he followed you to the nursery, his excitement matching your own.

It felt like you were underwater, body feeling weightless all of a sudden that you couldn't control your shaky legs and you tumbled to the ground.

Luckily, Jason was there to catch both you and Thomas, always there as a reliable shadow your you and your youngest to rely on. You looked up at him, realizing how painful it must have been for him to stand back and watch you walk away that day in the rain.

A memory trickled back to your head...

"I'm sorry I couldn't attend the baby shower, Ma." Jason apologized, sitting beside you on the couch. Your hands were neatly folded over your bump and you gave him a gentle smile, running your hands through the cute little white streak in his hair. Jason insisted he had them before the viral 'money pieces' began making waves on social media and that he was the 'OG'—whatever that meant.

"It's okay, baby. It was just for PR anyway. I know you wouldn't have had fun around all those fuddy-duddies."

Jason gave you a half-grimace, half-chuckle. Ever since you had found out you were pregnant, you had insisted on avoiding bad language, claiming that the baby could hear you—or at least pick up on the bad vibes. Alfred had taken to this with great pleasure, always the promoter of the idea that "swearing shows you have poor verbal skills."

"I'm just lucky I was able to play the pregnancy card and turn in early. Your poor father is still entertaining them."

"Oh, yeah I was wondering where he was; he's usually stuck to you like a barnacle unless he's on patrol."

You chuckled at this; he wasn't wrong. Ever since you found out you were expecting both father and sons have been following every single step of yours. You'd be heavily disturbed if you didn't know this was their way of showing you their love and devotion. In fact, the only reason Damian wasn't currently beside you was because it was past his bedtime.

"Anyway, I just came here to give you this." Jason placed his gift onto your lap and you glowed at the sight of the adorable baby blanket. It was grey and patterned with bats. You chuckled, looking it over and feeling the soft material, wondering if he had tried and failed to find one with his own logo on it.

"It's wonderful, Jace, thank you. We love it." You smiled, patting your belly. Jason returned your grin, pecking your forehead instead of reaching for a hug to prevent you from moving. He knew just how long it would've taken you to find a comfortable position.

"I monogrammed it too." He revealed, unfolding the blanket and showing you the corner of the blanket that had a neat 'T.W.' embroidered into it. Your fingers daintily traced over the letters. Currently, only family knew that you were having a yet another son and that you had already picked out his name. 'Thomas Wayne' after Bruce's father, of course.

"I did it myself." He admitted bashfully, scratching his hot cheeks and you simpered, holding it to your chest.

"I love it."

A fresh wave of tears came to your eyes as you realized the blanket was probably burned to ash along with your other belongings. Thomas began crying in your embrace but your hands were shaking too much for you to soothe him.

"I've got him, mom." Dick lulled, taking the baby from your arms. Usually, you wouldn't have handed over your baby to just anyone. But this was your son, your oldest.

He held him to his chest, rocking his baby brother in his arms, "Hi, Thomas. I'm Dick, your biggest brother. It's so great to finally meet you."

Dick released a shaky breath, pressing his nose to his chubby cheek. Thomas didn't fret or fuss, holding onto the pocket of Dick's shirt in a tight fist, staring up at his big brother with wide, curious eyes.

Your heart clenched at the sight of his muscles subtly flexing as he fought the instinct to hold Thomas too tightly. It saddened you that he was only meeting Thomas now, especially when you remembered just how excited he had been to meet his little brother...

Dick stared at you and Bruce apprehensively as you both gave him nervous grins.

“Dickie, we have something we want to tell you, and since you’re the oldest, we wanted to let you know first.”

Before you could get another word out, Dick was already interrupting.

“Oh my god, tell me you guys aren’t getting a divorce. I know I don’t live with either of you, but I couldn’t stand it.”

Your brows furrowed. What on earth gave him that impression?

“What? No, baby, we’re not getting a divorce.”

Dick let out a dramatic breath of relief, placing a hand over his chest—only for his expression to shift into horror a second later.

“Oh my god, please don’t tell me you’re inviting a third into your marriage. I know I don’t live with either of you, but I really couldn’t stand that either.”

“What on earth—no! Nothing of the sort is happening,” you said, exasperated.

Bruce sighed beside you, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Richard.”

You pointed at Dick before he could launch into another wild theory. “Richard Grayson Wayne, let us finish what we have to say.”

Bruce finally spoke up, “You’re getting another younger sibling.”

Dick blinked. His mouth opened, then closed as his brain processed the words.

“You’re adopting another kid?!”

“Not quite,” You replied.

His eyes narrowed as he turned to Bruce, suspicion laced in his voice, “Someone else stole your DNA and made another bio kid?”

Bruce gave him a flat look, but before he could answer, you smirked, “I wouldn’t say stole it… more like he gave it to me.”

You watched as the gears turned in Dick’s mind. His sharp blue eyes drifted downward, finally noticing the way your hand rested on your stomach.

The realization hit him like a truck.

His expression morphed from confusion to absolute bewilderment, “Ew! You both have sex?!”

You and Bruce gaped at him.

“Richard!”

Bruce groaned, running a hand down his face, while you sputtered out a laugh.

Dick’s horrified expression held for only a second longer before it cracked, melting into a wide grin. He let out a laugh, shoulders shaking.

“I’m just messing with you guys.” His voice softened as he stepped forward, pulling you into a hug, “I’m so happy for you! Congratulations, Mom.”

You hugged him tightly, your fingers running soothingly through his hair as you kissed the top of his head.

“You’re such a great big brother already. I just know this baby is going to love you.”

You caught a glance of Timmy standing beside him, waiting patiently for his turn with the newest member of the family and you sobbed into your hand recalling the way he watched you through the rear view mirror of your car that day at the grocery store.

He was always left on the sidelines, just waiting.

"Why didn't you tell me then, my baby? Why didn't you bring us home?" You cried, pulling him into your arms and running your hands through his hair.

"We thought you'd be safer this way." Tim explained, "Klarion was going to stop at nothing to get to us. We didn't want to push you away, but when you woke up with no your memory of us, we thought—we thought—"

Your poor baby, always thinking of others, always thinking of what was best for you...

You should have known.

The one day your husband and sons were given a rare, mandatory day off—to relax, take care of themselves, and maybe catch up on much-needed sleep—you should have known Tim would go the other way.

With the Batcave under strict lock and key for the night unless there was an emergency, it was only a matter of time before he got restless. Which was precisely why he stormed into the theater room, tablet in hand, while you were curled up against Bruce’s chest.

“Okay, so I did my research, and I’ve optimized the most optimal hospital bag for when you go into labor.”

You lifted your head off Bruce’s chest in surprise, barely registering the way he paused the movie. If you were being honest, you weren’t really watching it anyway. You had been too focused on the steady rhythm of your husband’s heartbeat, the warmth of his arms around you, and the quiet intimacy of just existing together.

“Tim, honey,” You said gently, “we don’t need a hospital bag yet. I’m only four months along.”

“You can never be too prepared,” He countered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Now, experts recommend having a detailed but brief birth plan so any emergency doctor can read it and get caught up quickly. We should probably discuss what we’re going to do.”

You shared a glance with Bruce, amusement flickering between you.

Then, turning back to your third son, you opened your arms invitingly, “Come here, Timmy. Let’s look at it together.”

Tim made no qualms about settling into your lap, angling the tablet toward you as he began scrolling through his meticulously compiled notes. You hummed softly, your fingers carding through his hair, rubbing gentle circles against his scalp.

At first, he kept talking, rattling off statistics, expert recommendations, and contingency plans—but soon, his words began to slow. His blinks stretched longer, and before you knew it, he had completely passed out, his breathing deep and even against you.

You huffed out a quiet laugh, looking at Bruce, whose lips curled into a knowing smirk.

“I hope the new baby is as easy as him,” You whispered.

Bruce pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice low and amused, “Not a chance.”

Tim swallowed painfully and you brought him back into the hug, patting his back gently as he inhaled deep breaths. Despite everything, you still wore the same perfume, even though your clothes and hair held onto the smell of smoke, underneath it all was the scent of his mother.

Damian joined you on your place on the floor, sliding to his knees in front of you to join in on the hug, the three of you enveloped by Jason's towering figure. You peppered kisses and apologies to their faces, wiping each of their tears dutifully but letting your own skate down your cheeks.

Finally, your gaze turned to the last man standing in the room.

Bruce.

Your breath hitched as you took a shaky step forward. Then another. And another.

You had missed him. You hadn’t even realized how much until this moment. Bruce, your boys—your family—had filled a hole inside you that you never knew was there. And now, standing before him, the father of your children, the love of your life, that emptiness was suddenly unbearable.

The second you reached him, your hand lifted to cup his face, desperate to feel his skin. Then, just as quickly, you smacked him.

Hard.

The sharp crack echoed through the room, snapping him out of his stupor.

“How could you?” You choked out, your voice thick with emotion, “How could you let our boys go without their mother? How could you let me have Thomas alone? How long were you planning to let this go on? You inconsiderate, horrible, stubborn oaf!”

Each word was punctuated by a fist against his chest—not truly meant to hurt him, just a desperate attempt to make him feel everything you had endured.

Bruce didn’t move. Didn’t defend himself. He only stared, his blue eyes wide, as if he was afraid that if he blinked, you would disappear.

You grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forward, crashing your lips against his. Tears streamed freely down your cheeks, making the kiss taste of salt and sweet.

“I missed you.” You sobbed against his mouth, “I missed you so much.”

A broken sound rumbled deep in his chest as he kissed you back, fiercely, desperately. His arms wrapped around you like he was afraid to let go, like if he held you tightly enough, he could make up for all the lost time. You squeezed your eyes shut, reveling in the feeling of being held after so long.

Then Thomas’s babbles grew louder, turning into a full-blown whine. His tiny arms flailed as he struggled against Dick, demanding attention.

You pulled away, breathless, as you turned to your baby, scooping him up into your arms. He fussed, wriggling, still unsatisfied with even your touch.

With a teary laugh, you turned back to Bruce, your smile wobbly but bright.

“Bruce,” You whispered, voice full of love, “Meet your son. Thomas Wayne.”

Bruce’s breath hitched, and for the first time since you stepped into the room, his mask cracked. His hands trembled slightly as he reached forward, brushing his fingertips across Thomas’s chubby cheek.

Thomas grinned up at him, giving him a gummy smile as he began kicking his feet in joy. You were barely able to keep your hold steady on him when Bruce held out his arms and you readily passed his son to him.

He looked down at the baby in his arms, every bit his father's son and Bruce felt the dam break.

His family was whole again.

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@tchatso

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

@capricorn-stark

@evermoore580

@dumbbitchgalore

@fuckingjinkies

@some-lovely-day

@that-one-fangirl69

@el-hrts

ephemeral pt.2 taglist:

@jsprien213

@fanfics4ever

@anonomous-chick

@thegirlwiththeyarn

@kore-of-the-underworld

@sofiafantasies

@pansyitcanton

@hayleym1234

@mikajack9273

@of-poetry-and-dreams

@noone-here111

@jellystar-star

@randomnamedmira

[4mrplumi]

spiderwocky ── spiderverse x spiderman!reader x batfamily

( sd. 03-25 ) " i'll take to believing this is the only outcome, the only universe for me. if i had another option, would i take it? no. this is the only option for me. "

# plotline. being spiderman has its challenges, but you can't lie, it's a massive improvement from your life before. for once; you feel like you belong here. this is what you were meant to be.

but things start to go wrong when seven steady months of operating as SPI//der are interrupted by a multi-universal society of other spider-people like you, and just as suddenly as you were found, you're lost again.

but questions start getting answered, faces lurking in the shadows come to light, and you're found by the very people who abandoned you before. remember what you promised? no one gets hurt again, not at your hand.

important note: batfam and spiderverse are equally involved. this means there's a period of time with more focus on spiderverse, and then more on batfam.

based on this concept

# chapters. no upload schedule

˖ 𑣲 prologue: kid-buggy

⋆ chapter one: spideybot

⋆ chapter two: keeping secrets

⋆ chapter three: entry 1326

general story disclaimers: reader can be considered a peni parker variant, the way peter 616 and peter b. parker kind of are. additionally, the fic's spider noir is from shattered dimensions (but i give him a trench coat because i can!!), but the main cast + marvel characters are still involved.

reader's 'peni-parker' influence based off of peni in edge of the spiderverse #5 2014, not the movie peni. events, of course, are altered.

# taglist. ask to be added / removed !

@.shycreatorreview @.facelessgetolover @.mileskisser @.1abi @.kenyummy @.selvyyr @.systemix

[red-phantom-0]

Am I Enough ?

summary : Alfred unexplainably dislikes a certain Wayne member and is hellbent on making her life as miserable as it can get .

What does it take to make a person break ? What does it take to make a person want to pull apart themselves from within ? What makes a person want to drown themselves in an unimaginable abyss and let its infinite darkness swallow them hole ?

Well, if you asked name, it would be watching Alfred treat every other family member with the utmost respect and love, but when it comes to her , he is cold and unforgiving .

Sometimes , name sits in her room and reflects - sometimes she thinks she's being dramatic - taking things out of portion . Maybe Alfred hadn't made her any dinner like everyone else because he was tired ? Maybe he didn't offer to patch up her bleeding wounds because he had to tend to Tim's scar ?

Name can't tell you how many excuses she had made for that man and his odd behavior towards her . Was it because she was a product of Bruce's one night stands ? It has to be impossible because he treats Damian with utmost care despite their constant back and forts and his own creation.

Is it because she was abnoxious ? That would explain the glare he shot her whenever she spoke during dinner . She tried - lord knows name - tried apologizing to the older head so many times over the years she has lived and served under Bruce Wayne, but the older head would always dismiss her .

Name pretends it's not a big deal - a pathetic attempt of dealing with her problems, but what else was she to do ? Alfred was so loved and appreciated in this family that if she dared speak something ill against him - she shivered and dreaded the consequences .

She already knows what they would tell her , " Name, don't be so dramatic Alfred has served us for so long be appreciative" , " Name , not everyone has to like you , I thought you were more mature than this " , " Name , you can't be this ridiculous ".

Thoughts like these swirl around her head like a violent tornado whenever she so much has a silver of confidence to approach anyone on the topic . So, name feigns ignorance to the topic . Whenever Dick questions why Alfred can't simply drop her to school , name just lies about wanting to walk to school and back instead .

Whenever questioned why she cleans up after herself instead of leaving it to Alfred by Stephanie, name just laughs it off to being independent. She gets weird looks from Jason every time she shuffles a sandwich she made for herself for dinner , instead of the five-star meal, Alfred made them .

She always made excuses for that man, but lord - those that man hate her . She remembers in 8th grade when she felt sick, and she opted to stay home that day . Around noon, she had entered the kitchen for a drink when Alfred spotted her and began his berating.

" Name Wayne , your father spends thousands behind your tuition not so that you can discard it so recklessly to be a nobody." Name was so embarrassed that she simply shut herself in her room after that.

To make it even worse , Alfred had complained to Bruce about it right after, and she got a lecture from him too about how important academics were . That wasn't the worst of it - the worst was when she had her guy friend over in the library to study for an exam, and Alfred spotted them and accused her of being a hooker .

Any bits of sympathy and respect she held for that man died that day . Since then, they've been icy to one another , always sneering and glaring at one each other whenever they can .

Name is happy to report that since she turned 18 , she has long since left the mansion and has been living her life in New York . Far away from Gotham , far away from Alfred and far away enough to live her life without some old geaser up her behind .

She till works for Bruce, always sending over whatever bit of intel she found to him or Tim. Years passed like this, and name has yet to visit the manor since , to the point it's a running joke between Jason and Dick that he himself visits more than her .

The batfam likes to joke about every year around that it would take a ' Christmas miracle ' for name to show up, not knowing that Alfred purposely doesn't send her any invitations or the way Tim always suggests " we can make name bring the mash potatoes so she hasto join us ! " During Thanksgiving dinners .

As much as Bruce laughs and entertains the jokes , he always wondered why you never came , always wondered if they harmed you someway or how that made you want to distance yourself from them.

It all came down to a week before Christmas , and the batfam was busy helping preparations and ensuring the safety of Gotham was at its best this holiday . Bruce had just come back from patrol and was busy typing away at his computer when Alfred approached him with dinner.

" Alfred please prepare a room for name " Bruce says after a few beats of silence have passed . Alfred stills - almost dropping the platter of food . " Excuse me Master Wayne but what ?" Alfred asks - too shocked - too stunned by the request . He thought he gotten rid of you for good why - why now ?

Bruce raised an eyebrow at this , " I asked for you to prepare a room for Name , I have invited them over for Christmas " Bruce says once again , this time his voice firm . Alfred blinks his eyes - he can't belive it - can't grasp the fact that after all these years Bruce still cared about you of all people .

Before Alfred can even argue about it - Damian and Dick whom overheard the conversation eagerly approaches them . " Hmph my competent sibling would make this Christmas snowball fights ever so more winnable for us " Damian says with a smirk- he's already plotting in his head the shenigans the both of you can do to poor Jason.

Dick rolled his eyes but had a cheesy smile plastered on , " No way in hell you got name to come back home old man " Dick laughs out as he ruffles through Bruce's hair . Bruce stares at them all with a pokerface , " I personally talked with them and requested their presence this Christmas and told them it was non-negotiable "

Dick laughs , " You're treating them like they're Jason and would rather ship themselves to the sun than come home " . Damian nods his head to this , " My sibling is more competent than that idiot " . A batrang is then thrown at his head to which Damain eagerly dodges .

" SHUT UP YOU LITTLE GREMLIN " Jason shouts in the distance , Tim's laughter echoing right after . A fight begins to ensue and Bruce returns back to his work - ignoring everyone while Alfred is stood there frozen in disbelief .

A week passed a name is standing in front of the looming mansion. Nothing has changed since the day she left - especially the scowling old man awaiting in the foyer for her . " Good evening Alfred " Name greets him as she removes her coat and hangs it on the hanger . " It would of been a better evening if you never came " Alfred says before walking away . Name scowled - ' why does he always have a stick up his behind ?' She thinks as she invited herself inside.

' Also what was the point of waiting for her if he'd just walk away ?' Name thinks to herself as she seats herself in the dinner table . " NAME !! " Stephanie exclaims at her arrival. Beside her , Tim embraces her and Jason flicks her forehead .

" Name welcome back " Bruce greets her at the head of the table . Name smiles at her dad - a sense of happiness fills her , after years of celebrating the holidays alone or among friends , she's happy to be back home amoug them.

" We missed you name like Damian literally cried when you left " Dick says with a giggle . Damian angrily shoves him off his seat , " Shut up grayson that literally never happened " .

Name laughs but was interupted by a Alfred's cough. " Dinner is served masters " he says as he places plates in front of everyone except name . " Where is Name’s plate ?" Tim asks - breaking the comfortable silence . Everyone turns to Alfred who quickly feigns ignorance . " Apologies Master Drake I am afraid I forgot Name was visiting and hadn't prepared anything "

Bruce and Damian both quirk their eyebrows in confusion because all week - they've both been talking about your arrival how can he simply forget ? . Name awkwardly laughs , " It's alright everyone I'll make myself a sandwich-" She tries to excuse herself but is stopped when Jason angrily bangs his hands against the table .

" This is absolutely ridiculous Alfred I know you hate them but to be this petty?" He argues . Silence envelops the table - name stunned because how the hell did Jason know about any of this ? How did he notice ?

" Jason that's a wild accusation -" Tim starts but Jason cuts him off . " No listen - I don't know how none of you ever noticed but name always has to make their own food - I've never seen Alfred cook them anything " Jason points out .

The table is silent again . " Alfred why is that ?" Bruce asks . Alfred fumbles abit but clears his throat . " Name prefers to make her own meals " he lied . Everyone turns to name who's practically sinks in her own seat from the heated stares .

" Is this true Name ?" Bruce enquires sternly . " Yes ?" Name pathetically lies and curses herself internally. Damian glances at her and then at Alfred . " What is the meaning of this Alfred ?" He orders . Alfred has to steel himself from within before answering , " nothing of the sort master we just don't get along " was his excuse .

Silence draws out once more . " Why ?" Dick asks as he looks between you both . Name stayed silent before answering, " I don't know what I did - I tried apologizing but nothing changed " .

" Wait name !! " Bruce calls after her but it was too late she had already left, never to return home again .

Alfred shoots her a harsh glare , " It is because this family can do without her existence " and with that Alfred leaves the room without another word . Silence once again draws out but was broken by name pushing her seat back . " Was nice having dinner with you guys but I must leave " she says before hurriedly making her exit .

[deadrobinthoughts]

†  masterpiece : damian.

⋆˙⟡ "She was my muse, my inspiration, the very air I breathed while creating."

⋆˙⟡ request: damian with reader as his muse. ↦ kalico note: it's not super long but it's something.

mindless indulgence had never been something that damian entertained. he was methodical and disciplined in every pencil stroke and charcoal press against parchment.

like fighting, art required accuracy. attention.

his lines had softened at some point in time. something more human had replaced the clinical, angular drawings of geometrics and anatomy. it started without his realization.

a silhouette in his notes' margins, a fleeting moment unconsidered. he told himself that the tilt of a smile, the arch of a brow, and the curve of a cheek were all just practice.

observing and learning. honing a skill.

however, the truth was concealed in the countless drawings of you that he had made without intending to, between the pages of his sketchbook without wishing to.

he didn't tell you. he didn't want you to know.

his fingers, on the other hand, twitched toward his pencil every time you laughed and sat with him in the silence, never oblivious to the way light danced along your features.

you were his inspiration, the topic he kept coming back to; the one thing in his world that he couldn't quite put into words. no matter how often he tried or how well the lines were written, they never did you justice.

so he continued to try. again and again.

you were his hidden masterpiece and even if you never knew, he would perfect it for the rest of his life if only as an excuse to keep you close.

[pomegranatelifethis]

New sibling

Damian rolled his eyes when he heard Bruce bring home someone who was “in need of help” again. He saw this attitude of his father as a weakness. When Bruce called Damian into the living room, Damian shuffled in and saw a little girl standing in the middle of the room.

Little Y/N stood in the middle of the room, wearing worn-out clothes and an old plush bear clutched tightly in her arms. Her eyes were filled with tears, but she wasn't crying. Damian turned to Bruce with a contemptuous expression:

“What is this now? Do you bring home what you find on the street now?”

Bruce gave him a stern look but did not answer. Y/N took a step back as Damian tried to understand why his father had brought this boy. Damian's cold gaze made the little girl even more introverted.

“Her name is Y/N,” said Bruce. “He'll be safe here.”

Damian laughed sarcastically. “This kid can't survive here. This place is too dangerous for him.”

Y/N bowed his head when he heard these words. Bruce looked at Damian sternly. “He's a Wayne now. You need to understand this.”

Damian frowned and muttered sarcastically as he quickly left the room:

“Being Wayne isn't always a blessing.”

One night, as Damian was walking down the hall, he heard a muffled sob coming from Y/N's room. He paused, remaining in front of the door instead of continuing. He knew he shouldn't go in, but as the sobs stopped, his own past came to mind.

When he entered the room, he found Y/N wrapped in her blanket, crying. When the little girl saw Damian, she immediately tried to compose herself. But tears were still streaming down his cheeks.

"What are you doing?" Damian asked, his voice unusually soft.

Y/N muttered without looking up:

“I'm sorry… I was trying to be quiet. I know you don't want me. But I have nowhere else to go…”

Damian's eyes were narrowed. These words revived the feeling of abandonment he felt in his childhood. At that moment, he saw the little girl's loneliness as the same as his own loneliness.

“No one will send you away from here,” Damian said involuntarily. “But I won't see you cry again. You must be strong.”

Y/N turned his eyes to Damian. He nodded, surprised but grateful. As Damian left the room, he realized that his desire to protect this boy was slowly taking over him.

Damian swore he would never leave Y/N alone again. One day, Y/N gave him a small drawing. In the drawing, Y/N and Damian were standing side by side. Damian took the picture in his hand and examined it for a long time.

“Is this me? "Did you draw me this short?" he teased, but he couldn't hide the slight smile on his face. Y/N smiled shyly.

Damian took the picture and took it to his room. He put it next to his bed and said to himself, “He is my brother. No one can touch him. Nobody can take him from me, he thought.

[kenwio]

Joker's kid! reader : observations from the sidelines

Route: black fog

Warnings: grammar mistakes, bad writing, angst

Author's note: it was written in hectic conditions. Maybe in the future, I will rewrite it, but I struggle with finding time for anything aside from my studies right now. I'm sorry

Your days in manor went by slowly. All this time, you stayed away from the family of bats. Every time you tried to end up becoming another painful memory, and since it felt like you were the one messing things up, it was your responsibility to prevent things from becoming ugly.

The time of this intentional or not exclusion from made you give up all hope to try become part of them, the part of family. And as much as it was painful, you got used to it. It wasn't something you weren't used to. You had to deal with lots of pain before, maybe a different kind of pain, but still pain.

And you made peace with it. Well, that's what you were saying, trying to convince yourself that it's for the best, and yet the earning for belonging left deep ache in your heart, that sometimes was unbearable to handle. No matter how irrationally it was to expect something more from them, after they gave you a roof over your head, your room, safety and food, you still wanted the warmth that family share, that they all share. Why taking you in at all if they just placed you on a sideline? That question bothered you more than anything else. You couldn't understand that logic, the way they think, the way they act... function even. That's when you felt it, the curiosity, the willingness to learn. And if they placed you to the sideline, why not use it to your advantage. After all, the position you were in allowed you to observe. It would be a perfect position to study them, to find what made them tick, to see what they hold dear, to notice what they avoid. It could be your own since project, the study of almost dysfunctional family. In the meantime, you will also tend to a few of your own things...

One day, you just asked Alfred for a notebook and pen. It surprised me, but he brought them to you. You saw how sometimes while experimenting on you or with his venom your father took notes on various ripped pieces of paper, so you though note taking was essential for experimenting and observations, but since you had resources to use nit ripped papers but something nicer why not use it.

The first obstacle on your way was the fact that I struggled to write, which was essential for your note-taking. Well, you struggled to read, too. But you but knew words, quite a few actually, and you knew basics of writing and reading, you just wasn't trained enough. You decided to train yourself before you start observing everyone and keep an eye on Alfred in a mean time. He may be wary of you, and that's why he won't get close to you, but he helped you either way. He even showed you how to properly hold the pen. On one occasion, he saw you writing. You learned that Alfred was compassionate. He showed care even to you. You saw that even if he was in some sort like you, the character that stayed in the background, you noticed his role was much bigger than that. He had a really big role in this family. He was the one who did most care of the family. He kept track of everyone, their moods, their conditions. And, maybe because of this, he had so many skills that you couldn't keep track of them. He knew tastes and preferences of each and everyone, and it takes either professional or a really caring person for it. And you knew he was both. If only this care is applied to you.... on this, you ended your first observation notebook.

If Alfred was an emotional anchor that was essential for this family to function, Bruce was the sole reason why this family existed at all. But out of all of them, he was the most hard one to observe. He didn't give you time of his day at all. And it confused you. But given the history of taking unfortunate children in, you understood that maybe he took you in for this exact reason - you were unfortunate. And you knew another thing, your father was the bane of the Gotham existence. Given that Bruce was Batman, you figured that he took you in only to prevent you from going to darker path. He didn't need more villainas. He had too many to pay attention already. You don't know why, but taking notes about him was harder than anything.

Soon, your notebooks started filling up with your other notebooks. In each and everyone you wrote about their moral code, their desire for justice and their obsession. The obsession with crime fighting was in blood not only of Bruce but also each and every child of his.

Tim spends nights without sleep, solving cases nights on end. You noted in gray notebook.

Richard, soon you found out, was not only vigilante but a police officer in his city. You wrote in blue journal.

Jason was fighting everything that was wrong in his view. You noted in red notebook.

And Damian just fights everything, showing his despise for criminals. You mentioned in green one.

Ans as much as you hoped that you will only see that cold side of them, so that you could just move on. As much as you tried to concentrate on their crime fighting, while observing them, you knew it wasn't right. You saw other things.

"Alfred loved his family" - you wrote in a white notebook. It was the title for paragraph about things you noticed. Like little moments when he was alone in kitchen baking cookies that all family loved. The sound of light humming made the kitchen more welcoming

"Bruce kept his eye on his kids" - you observed. You noticed him taking some sort of note when he saw one morning that Damian didn't particularly enjoy his meal. You and him both took notes about family members... you wondered if he had notes about you.

"Dick was the one who was raising spirits up" - you concluded one day, when he came over, when Tim needed emotional support. You even caught him looking at you once, as if he was trying to gather strengths to talk to you

"Jason loves library" - you wrote in "Jason Tod likes". You were surprised to see how calm Jason can be when he was paying attention to his book and not something that aggravated him. This sight of him made you want to want to train read more

" TIm is helpful" - you scribbled in "Tim : personality". You also saw how Tim was quick to help others. Even if he went a few nights without a second of shut eye, he was willing to help others.

"Damian loves pets" - you noted one day when you saw Damian taking care of his pets, his dear Titus and Alfred the cat. You were so surprised to see him smiling

But these good sides of them, for you this side, were unreachable. You knew from previous experience that no matter how hard you tried, for you, it won't work. The pages of your plans on how to get along with them half written and covered in tear stains.

Their obsession with the criminal world made it impossible for you to be seen as an innocent human being.

But you also weren't as dangerous as a threat to be considered seriously.

After some time of thinking, you found a solution for your lonely situation... you began a new notebook.

-------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇ ◇ ♧ ---------------------

Thank you for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think about my work! Hope you have a good day

-------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇ ◇ ♧ ---------------------

♡ Tag list ♡

if i forgot someone or anyone want to be added please let me know

@dearlawdimasimp , @shirp-collector-of-fixations , @socially-embarrassing , @leovergurl , @deathbynarcisstick , @cryptic-arr0w , @lynns-cornerr , @cxcilla ,  @charlotteking23 , @ninihrtss , @lillycore , @pix-stuff , @tfamidoingwithmylife , @linoalwaysknows , @00hellohello00 , @lilithskywalker , @bagofrice , @lenaisaloser , @devilslittlehelper , @camilo-uwu , @l3v1us , @eyeless-kun , @stargazingbutgayer, @wpdarlingpan , @weirdothatreads , @maybea1 @mel-viper-wayne @amber-content @lizzyzzn @animadi888  @coldnightshark @anamiranda7383

[standamianwayne]

yandere!batfam/damian’s twin!reader

cw: one (1) cuss word, underage drinking ig? (reader and dami have like two sips of beer lol), i can’t write a fight/sparring scene to save my life oops

The silence in the gym was almost eerie.

Sure, there were the sounds of soft panting and muttered curses, hand and feet meeting skin and bone, and the occasional thump when one gets knocked to the ground. Those were normal when it came to you and Damian and sparring. What wasn’t normal was the lack of another presence.

The two of you were hardly ever alone nowadays, with how big your family is. Sometimes it’s nice, seeing as how it was just the two of you for a while. But, though you’d never tell each other, you did miss your twin.

Damian missed you too, but he certainly didn’t miss the way you went easy on him. You deny it, of course, but the two of you were evenly matched in every way when it came to combat. If you tried as much as he did, you would tie at the very least, but even when you were younger you’d let him win. If he gave 100% (which he always did, thank you), you would give 99%, it was just a fact.

The fight ends like every other one does, with Damian knocking you to the floor and pinning you there. There’s a sense of pride when he defeats an opponent, an inflation of his ego. He doesn’t feel that.

The two of you don’t talk much, trying to catch your breath and cool down. A bead of sweat rolls down your side when Damian breaks the silence between you — something he hasn’t done since… you’re not sure when.

“You should try harder.” He says. His eyes are pointed at the ground, but his face is fixed into a glare. There’s a hint of a sneer on his lips, trying to bite back a snarky comment.

“…I’m trying as hard as I can,” you reply, a huff leaving your lips. It’s a mix of frustration and a bit of guilt. Is it a crime that you want your little (less than an hour, but still!) brother to win? At the same time, you can tell what he’s thinking: that you go easy on him. Which, truth be told… okay yeah maybe he has a point.

You don’t see him as inferior, you don’t think that you have to lower yourself for his benefit. For others, it’s impossible to see past his steely green gaze, to truly get ahold of his thoughts. For you, it’s obvious: he thinks the opposite— you see him as a kid still.

“Obviously not,” Damian snaps his head up to glare at you. For a moment, you can almost see the demon that everyone else does, though that thought quickly washes away. “Stop going easy on me. I’m not weak, in case you needed reminding.” He spits out the word like it’s bile. To him, it may as well be.

“I did not,” You furrow your eyebrows in return. Not quite a glare, more so a stern look. “I don’t think that of you, you know that.”

“Oh, do I? You surely don’t act like it.” He rises from his sitting position, now standing over you. You don’t bother looking up, instead letting your eyebrows raise as your expression stays flat. “You hold yourself back,” it’s almost a scoff that leaves his mouth, “you always have. I can take a hit— I don’t need you to treat me like I’m still some brat!”

“Don’t you like winning?” You ask, leaning back on your sore palms, relaxed as ever. “I’m already putting in effort to fight you, I don’t get why you can’t just take the victory.”

“Because it’s not an even match!” You aren’t sure if you’ve ever seen your brother this mad frustrated before. “And clearly whatever ‘effort,’” he uses air quotes, also something you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him do, “you’re putting in isn’t enough.”

You can help but roll your eyes, glancing away from him. “Fine, whatever,” you concede, figuring the fight isn’t worth it. “Next time we spar, I’ll kick your ass.”

It’s weird, if anyone else had said that to Damian, he’d probably scratch their eyes out. With you, he lets his lips curl into a snarky grin. “You better,” he nods. You nod back.

With that settled, you return to your routines. ‘Next time’ rolling in your brains.

Of all the amenities Wayne Manor has to offer, you’ve become quite fond of the outdoor pool. Not only is it great for exercising in general, but you have a habit of coming out here late at night. Like now, for example.

You aren’t a drinker, not really. Occasionally, Bruce will let you have a glass of wine or something at dinner. It’s not like you necessarily enjoy alcohol, but when you saw a pack of beer in the fridge — well, who are you to pass up an opportunity?

So, you sat on the edge of the pool, the bottom half of your legs submerged in the water with a beer bottle in hand. It was a bit chilly out, but it was a rare night off for you — hard to complain, really.

You don’t bother to look when you hear footsteps approaching from behind. Why bother, you already know to whom they belong.

Damian plops down next to you. A bit ungracefully, might you add, considering his whole ‘poise and proper’ demeanor he tends to portray. Wordlessly, you grab the unopened bottle and hand it over to him. Wordlessly, he pops it open and takes a sip.

“Ugh,” he sneers, pulling the bottle away from his lips, “this tastes awful. Who even buys this stuff?”

You shrug, because you don’t really know either. Probably Dick, you guess, but it doesn’t really matter. “It’s beer, nobody buys it for the taste,” you point out.

“Fair…” A light silence stretches for a few moments, only broken by the water rippling around your legs. The lights from the pool are still on, you told Alfred you’d be the one to turn them off, illuminating you both in blue.

“Do you think,” you start hesitantly, “that we, like, made a mistake by staying here? That we’re too… different?” You look up from your lap to glance to your brother. Even you aren’t too sure why you said that. It’s not like you’ve been made to feel unwelcome (well, not by your family, anyway).

It’s another moment of silence, something that seems to be all too common between you two nowadays, before Damian responds. “No,” he says simply with a small shake of his head, “I don’t feel that way at all.”

“Hm,” you hum appraisingly. You aren’t too sure what to say next, so you tuck your lips between your teeth, only undoing so to take a sip of your drink. “Just me, then.”

heyyy…. hey… how yall doing 😅😅😅😅 uh so… been two months! sorry for not uploading yall. lot has happened, got busy, and i’ve been on and off sick these past two months. but! hopefully i’m back?? eh who knows.

thank you guys for supporting me again! i say this every time i upload but oh well lol. love you guys 😛😛

[invincibledc]

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐒˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 (𝐎𝐂) 𝐗 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐒!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★synopsis: a simple discussion with the batfamily ends with memories spurring in your head.

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★genre: fluff

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★info: this OC is an OC I’m written for my own amusement. He’s the son of Harley Quinn and joker. Full name, Jacklyn Oswald Quinn. I got bored. Reader is the twin sister of Damian, but Damian is the older twin of course. Im only a writer so you can imagine who he looks more like but all I can is he is handsome canonically in my head and anything. Boy’s crazy but handsome.

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★ word count: 1,342

“We have to talk about your certain relationship with.. the son of joker.” Bruce says while he faces you. You felt nervous as you had your faces clamped together. But you pulled a poker face, simply nodding.

“What’s your relationship with him.”

“Well, I would say that we’re—”

MEMORY 1.

Jack was balanced precariously in a handstand, his lithe form showcasing a hint of the muscle definition he had been developing. His face, painted with wild colors, radiated mischief and playfulness as he grinned upside down. “So, puddin’, think we could sneak away from your little colony and grab some grub? I’m starving,” he whined dramatically, a playful pout forming on his lips.

You sighed, knowing he was spot on about the hunger gnawing at your own stomach, but the thought of abandoning your duty to patrol Gotham sent a pang of unease through you. The weight of your responsibilities pressed heavy on your shoulders.

“I can’t. I’m on patrol. And shouldn’t you be with your crazed father?” you replied tersely, lowering the binoculars from your eyes to meet his gaze. Jack, ever the bundle of energy, flipped out of his handstand and landed deftly on his feet. He stretched his arms behind his back, feigning innocence.

“Nahhh... My old man’s out cold like a baby. And my ma’s off having a girl’s night with Aunt Ivy. So here I am,” he declared, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling against your neck with surprising tenderness. “Just me and my darling, my cute little bird.”

His words, though playful, carried a warmth that made it hard to resist his charm. In that moment, the chaotic world of Gotham faded slightly, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of mischief and youthful affection.

MEMORY 2.

Out of everything—heroes, villains, and the chaos that comes with them—Jack lay sprawled in your room. His tousled blonde hair framed his face, and his simple blue eyes sparkled with mischief. Clad only in gray sweatpants, he was the picture of relaxed spontaneity. His slightly tanned skin contrasted with your [color] complexion, creating a juxtaposition of warmth and coolness as you both lounged on the bed. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, grateful that you and Damian no longer had to share a room like you did when you were young.

Jack propped himself up on one elbow, revealing that goofy grin you couldn't help but find charming. “I can’t believe my girl—who isn’t mine—is letting me crash here,” he said with a boyish spark in his eyes. Despite the obsession he harbored for you, the night felt blissfully laid-back, a rare moment of peace in a world filled with so much tension.

As you continued to weave your fingers through his messy locks, you remarked, “You know, you could try being your civilized self and meet my family instead of sneaking into my room with a bag of clothes for what seems like a sleepover. And by the way, I’m getting pretty squished here.” You inhaled deeply, your words tumbling out in one breath. Jack feigned annoyance, his pout playful. “Oh, come on, puddin’, that’s boring! Where’s the thrill in sneaking into my future wife’s house to just chill with her?”

Your heart raced at the unexpected title he casually tossed your way. “Jack, what??!!” you stammered, caught off guard by his bold claim.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” He looked genuinely perplexed, scratching his head in a manner that showed his typical carefree nature. You struggled to respond, your shock momentarily robbing you of your voice.

“Eh, whatever,” he shrugged, a grin spreading across his face as he declared, “I’m gonna grab some water.” He hopped off the bed and, as he exited your room, he caught sight of Jason strolling through the hall, engrossed in the pages of a book. Time slowed as Jack froze, and then, thinking quickly, he launched himself over the stair railing, expertly grabbing onto a chandelier for balance. His heart raced as he spun mid-air, landing seamlessly on the couch below with a triumphant flair before dashing to the kitchen like a ninja on a mission.

Jason’s sharp eyes narrowed, instantly suspicious of the antics unfolding in the house. He knew something was amiss.

In the kitchen, Jack filled a glass with water and chugged it rapidly, desperately hoping to evade any unwanted company. But, in a cruel twist of fate, as he drained the last drop, the overhead lights flicked on, illuminating the space. There, framed in the doorway, stood Jason Todd—also known as the second Robin, and now, the formidable Red Hood.

“You!” Jason bellowed, his finger jabbing menacingly at Jack.

“Me!” Jack replied with an impish grin, pointing to himself as his instincts kicked in. Without a moment of hesitation, he bolted past Jason, laughter spilling from his lips like the joy of a child who had just escaped capture.

The chase began, and Jason pursued Jack with an intensity akin to an enraged bear, all the while Jack couldn’t help but cackle in delight. He darted back into your room, where your eyes widened in surprise. Without missing a beat, Jack gathered his belongings in a flurry, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on your cheek, leaving you breathless.

“Don’t wait up!” he shouted cheerfully, diving out the window with the agility of a circus performer. He executed a graceful barrel roll before calling out, “Bye, babe!”

In the wake of his departure, you could only raise a bemused eyebrow. But before you could fully process what had just transpired, Jason leaped after him, both boys sailing out into the night in a chaotic blend of laughter and shouts, leaving you in stunned silence.

MEMORY 3.

“Honestly, why can’t you just be called Batgirl or something straightforward? I mean, it feels a bit off being just another ‘Robin,’ especially when your twin brother is Robin too. What’s the point of that?” the clown boy remarks, tying up some goons who tried to mess with some women

You weren't even with him; you were at home, focused on your homework and not even thinking about patrolling. You kept humming, grateful for him handling your dirty work.

“So what do I get in return for this?” Jack asks, fiddling with his green and purple phone case while the tied-up goons try to protest through clown noses. “How about we hang out on the weekend when everyone’s busy?” you suggest, tapping your pencil against your notebook filled with history notes. Jack’s enthusiasm is heard on the other end of the line.

“That sounds amazing, sugar. Can we grab some batburgers too?” He says, smiling as you reach for your phone. You chuckled. “Absolutely,” you respond confidently. Jack practically bounces with excitement, despite the bemused expressions from the goons. “Awesome!”

You and Jack stay on the phone, and while he serves as your backup during patrols, he’s more than up for the task. You might not want to feel like you’re using him, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest. The dynamic between you two is unconventional, but at least you’ve got each other’s backs.

“We’re nothing but enemies, honestly why wouldn’t we.”

Your brothers gave a clear expression that they weren’t falling for it.

“Okay then tell us why in the world is that goblin out there with a sign saying in quote, ‘let’s go out later’.” Jason says with knitted brows.

“Wait for real?!” You got up quickly to look outside, and there was no one. Turning back to glare at Jason, Jason held a smug grin on his face.

“Gotcha.”

Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle before remaining stoic. “I would like to say as well that you’re grounded for sneaking out.”

“What?! How did you find out.” Pouting, you sat back at the table.

“Damian told me.”

“DAMIAN!?”

Damian drank his tea elegantly despite his messy self. “I can’t have my little sister dating some sociopath.”

“Oh shut up, I’m not buying you anymore cool and smooth paper to draw on.” Damian almost spits his tea out, scrambling to follow you as you walked upstairs.

“Wait! Sister, maybe we can rearrange some things!”

[johanna-517]

"Special and unique"

(Chapter 8)

It was morning, and you felt the light rays of sunlight streaming in through the window. You turned over in the large bed, trying to find a more comfortable sleeping position. You didn't have to go to school today, so you planned to just stay in your room and rest peacefully for the rest of the day.

Even more so after what happened yesterday... It would definitely be best to spend the day in your room today.

As you tossed and turned in bed, you finally noticed something... Toti wasn't there. You always slept with him in your arms, never letting go of him while you slept. So... Why are your arms empty now? Where's your precious teddy bear?

You feel a pang of worry instantly, and you open your eyes quickly, looking beside you in the bed, searching for Toti. But... He's not there.

When you look up, your heart nearly stops at the state of your room.

Everything was... Destroyed.

All the crafts you had made yourself were completely ruined and scattered on the floor, all the drawings you had made over the months that you had on the walls were broken into several small pieces lying on the floor.

And above all... The little photographs you kept of your mother were... Completely destroyed too, broken into tiny pieces.

Instantly, you feel your eyes fill with tears. You can't help but tremble slightly, your mouth open in complete shock as you take in the scene; all your things were ruined, your room was a complete mess, and the precious photos of your mother that you treasured were now shattered.

"Why?..." you mumbled, your voice shaking as you slowly got out of bed, feeling your legs getting weaker and weaker as you walked towards the mess.

Countless tears fall from your eyes, one after another without stopping as your eyes remain open, fixed on the terrible scene.

This... Isn't it true? It can't be, no, no, no...

This can't be happening to you, of course. You don't deserve it, you don't deserve this, it's not fair. Surely this is just a very bad nightmare, right? Yes, it's just that... A nightmare.

Finally, your legs give out and you fall to your knees on the floor, without even blinking, you continue to stare at the scene.

All of the drawings and paper crafts you'd been doing for months, all the creations you'd made with your own hands, everything that gave your room color, was just... Completely destroyed.

'Why?' you ask yourself, over and over again, wondering why this had to happen, why, for you, weren't all the terrible things you've been through enough? Fate... Does it really have to be so cruel to you?

Your hands shake uncontrollably as you pick up the small fragments of your mother's photographs.

"M-mamá... Perdón, lo siento tanto, yo-... No quería que esto pasara, perdón, perdóname"/("M-Mom... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I-... I didn't mean for this to happen, I'm sorry, forgive me.") You begged between sobs, picking up each little piece of the photograph one by one.

Your chest hurt so much, it's been a while since it hurt like this.

You loved your mother, you loved her, and you will love her forever, because she was everything to you. Even if she's gone, she can't leave you completely; you would never allow it. That's why, when you arrived here, you had brought as many photographs of your mother as you could, and that meant so much to you.

Because even if Mom wasn't by your side anymore, having photographs of her nearby made you feel as if she were, as if she were still by your side.

Whenever you felt down, you used to pick up one of your mother's photographs, trying to comfort yourself the way only she could. You wanted to feel that she listened to you, that she always would, that she truly... would never dare leave you alone in this world.

You were quite attached to those photographs, because they held the memory of your precious mother. Your fear of forgetting your mother's face was always eased by the photographs you had of her.

But now... Now these photographs are destroyed, it feels terrible.

This was one of the few things that made you feel better about your mother's impending absence, and now... It's all over.

When you collect all the small fragments of the photographs, you put them in a small box and set it aside.

Your mind goes blank for a moment, as tears continue to fall like waterfalls from your eyes.

But then, you remember... Toti, where is he?

You instantly jump up, walking quickly around the room, looking everywhere for the teddy bear.

It's not on the floor, it's not under the bed, it's not in the closet, it's not in any other piece of furniture. So, where's Toti?

A wave of anxiety fills your chest as you wonder if Toti is also broken like the rest of them.

No, that can't happen. Toti is too important to you. You can't let anything happen to him.

Without hesitation, you quickly leave your room, heading to the room of the person who caused all of this; Damian.

You run through the hallways, stopping in front of Damian's door. Without thinking, you open the door and walk in. Right now, you definitely weren't going to bother knocking.

Your eyes darken with anger as soon as you see Damian standing in the room. He's already awake. Of course he would be. After all, he had to get up really early to go and destroy everything in your room before you even woke up.

You don't say anything, instantly, you pounce on him, grabbing him tightly by the collar of his clothes.

"Tell me right now where you hid my teddy bear!" You yelled, demanding an answer as your eyes remained fixed on his.

"Oh, you're talking about that ugly teddy bear? Well, I don't know... Why would I know," he replied, looking away indifferently.

His indifferent attitude and response only make you boil over with anger even more, and before you can stop yourself, you slap Damian hard across the cheek. Of course, he instantly gets angry and attacks back, hitting you in the abdomen and making you instantly flinch.

It hurts... It definitely hurts, you're absolutely sure that the slap you gave him didn't hurt half as much as the hit he gave you back.

But, before you can say anything else, you look through the open door, outside in the hallway you manage to see Damián's pets, specifically, you manage to see Titus with Toti in his mouth.

Damian... He gave your teddy bear to his pets, as if it were a simple toy?

You freeze in realization, and without even thinking, you quickly run out of the room, ignoring the pain in your body, completely focused solely on saving Toti.

You had to fight with Damian's pets to get your stuffed animal back, you didn't care if they tried to bite or scratch you, it didn't matter as long as you could get Toti back.

Finally, after a struggle, you manage to get Titus to let go of your stuffed animal. You immediately grab Toti and quickly flee back to your room.

Once you reached your room, you walked in and slammed the door shut, letting yourself fall to the floor while keeping a tight grip on your precious stuffed companion.

Toti is fine... He's a little broken, but nothing too serious, luckily you managed to save him in time.

You try to ignore the way your body trembles... You really were that close to losing Toti. Besides, you're still pretty tense from everything that happened before.

Before you can start crying, you stop as soon as you spot something under the bed. You reach over and pick it up, and you realize... It was one of the many photos you had of your mother, but this one was completely untouched.

Your eyes definitely shine with relief, your body relaxing as you hold the photograph of your mother close to your chest. You were completely grateful for this. It seems fate isn't always so cruel to you. This time, not everything was ruined. Toti is fine, and you managed to preserve at least one of those precious photographs in perfect condition.

Probably when Damian destroyed the others this one fell and ended up on the floor, he didn't realize and that way he couldn't destroy that photo too.

Tears stream down your cheeks, but this time... You don't feel sad when you cry. Instead, you feel relieved, because even though Damian tried, he couldn't completely ruin you.

Along with relief, you feel determined, as you now definitely don't plan on letting Damian or anyone else dare try to ruin the things you hold dear. You'll never allow it.

A few days later, you literally begged Alfred for another room, as far away from the others' rooms as possible. Your current room was already somewhat far from the others, but it wasn't enough; you needed more distance, as much as possible.

So, you recently discovered a small room, quite secluded from the rest; you didn't even know this room existed. Perfect, this is just the room you need.

You don't mind the small size, you don't mind if the furniture here looks too old, or the layers of dust on the walls. You want to be here.

Alfred said that this was a room that had always been completely neglected in the mansion, as it was too small and far from the main rooms of the house.

Even though he said this room wouldn't be suitable for you, you didn't back down, not when you were determined to get it. You tried to look as sad as possible to instill pity, telling Alfred that you still felt bad about what Damian did to you, that you just wanted a space to feel safer, and that that place would be this small, remote room.

Luckily for you, Alfred quickly agreed, knowing that what Damian did in your room was completely wrong. And maybe the best thing for you really is to give you another room. So, he helped you, and the two of you started cleaning and organizing the room. Alfred even got some new furniture to put in your new room.

You were very excited, now you had a new room, you loved it, soon you took your things from your old room to bring them to the new one.

However, as you did so... A small idea struck you. So, you left some of the things you didn't need in your old room, making it seem as if it wasn't completely abandoned, as if it were still in use.

Why? Well, it was simple: you wanted Damian and the others (if they even knew which room was yours) to continue thinking that this was still your room. This way, no one would find out where you were, and you could enjoy your new little out-of-the-way room without anyone knowing.

Besides, since everyone seems so indifferent, you're sure they won't notice you've changed rooms anytime soon. They probably won't notice for years, right? You laugh softly to yourself, finally feeling calmer in your new room.

It's small... But it feels right. You like your new space, you feel calm and comfortable here. It doesn't matter that you literally have to walk until you're exhausted just to get to the kitchen, all because this room is actually quite far away, but you love it anyway.

It's been a few years, you were already thirteen years old, during these years everything remained the same from your own perspective. Bruce not having a second for you, Tim calling you a nuisance as soon as you get even an inch closer to him, Dick being the perfect older brother to everyone, but to you, he only has false empty kindness, without showing any real interest in you, Barbara and Cassandra indifferent to you, as always, Stephanie laughing a little whenever she sees you, Jason doesn't talk to you either, in fact, you haven't exchanged a single word with him during this time, and Damian? Well, it's simple, he's still as annoying as ever, repeating over and over again how weak and pathetic you are, however, you have never responded to Damian's comments again, you just nod slightly as if you heard him and as if he was right, you know that fighting is pointless, and you learned your lesson, fighting with him only brings more problems, so you decide not to provoke him.

And of course you know... You know they usually watch movies together every weekend. You know Dick sometimes takes Damian, Tim, and Jason out to eat at a restaurant in the city, or just to hang out. You know Stephanie, Barbara, and Cassandra have "girls' nights" out every now and then, just hanging out happily. You know Bruce also arranges to spend time with them from time to time.

And even more importantly, you know that you have never been and never will be included in their family plans.

You always see them from afar, acting like a real family, where they support each other, and where you don't exist.

But it's okay, you always told yourself that you don't need them, you don't need to be part of their stupid 'happy family', because you already have your own family, your real family, your mother, your aunt and your cousins.

About that, there's something that's been really worrying you. Recently, for a few weeks now, you've simply stopped receiving calls from your aunt and cousins. At first, they used to call you at least once a week, but now... It's been several weeks, and they haven't called you even once.

Why? Did something happen? They're having problems? Or maybe... They've just stopped calling you on purpose? No, of course not. You push that thought away instantly. They're not going to abandon you, they never would, they're your family.

You calmed yourself down, trying to think that your Aunt Lidia was probably just very busy, and your cousins too. They'll call you when they have time. You don't need to worry.

❦: (Here's chapter 8, sorry for the delay. I hope you liked it :D).

✯/Tag list: @hopingtoclearmedschool @simpingpandas @ryuushou @ninihrtss @soulsire @artistwithcreativeburnout @the-dumber-scaramouche @khalinda-ev @sillysealsies @moon0goddess @bunniotomia @twismare @arwenyukiamoto @wizzerreblogs @ironsaladwitch @luckyangelballoon @burningkittenprince @wisefuncherryblossom

[caotictimmy]

Chapter 1: Oh my dear lamb, your heart is to big for you… (Madoka magica!reader)

Authors note: I know someone also posted a Madoka magica! Reader to. I promise our stories will be quite different (and very good! Please check their story out!!) anyways finally posted the first chapter. Please send requests or asks about this!!! Not proof read we die like almost every magical girl.

You weren’t special by any means.

You’ve known this for a while. You weren’t as athletic as Dick. You weren’t as intelligent as Damien. Hell, you weren’t really great at anything. You were good, but you weren’t great. There was something you were good at, hell even great. No one else in that family could ever come close to . Love. You were a creature of love at heart. Kindness overflowed from your mouth, seeping into anything around you. Most thought that was a gift. A kind heart, with only the purest intentions. The bat family didn’t though.

They all thought you were weak. You weren’t cut out to be a hero. You weren’t strong, you weren’t incredibly smart, you didn’t have any powers. You’re nothing like them. Would your kindness be able to save someone from a joker attack? Would your big heart be able to rescue people from a burning building? It wouldn’t. You just aren’t special like them, and you had to live with that fact every single day of your life. That you would never compare to anything, especially your family.

But you wanted to be like them so bad… You wanted to be able to save people like them. You wanted to be like them so desperately that you even tried to train yourself, but it wasn’t very affective… You kept accidentally hurting yourself one way or another, whether that be by accidentally cutting yourself while trying to train with a sword, to tumbling to the ground trying to practice defending yourself.

You felt so isolated from them. They were supposed to be your family. You felt like you invaded their space, like you didn’t belong there. It didn’t help that they could barely spare you a glance. Let alone have a conversation with you, even just a simple hello from Jason would surprise you.

It was like you were a ghost in the manor, more like an angle. You would do your best to help around, clean a room. Leave Advil out for Tim after an all nighter he had. Leave reminder notes of positivity. Drawing heart, flowers, and smiley faces all of the little sticky notes. You would always do these little things for them, but they never noticed. They never noticed your effort, never noticed your support. They never noticed you.

The silence in there was especially unnerving in your bedroom. It was always just to quiet in there. You never really believed in “so quiet you could hear a pin drop.”, well not until you had to stay in the eerie room. You often had to hold yourself at night. Trying to act like one of them was there. There when the shadows of your room loomed over you. It felt like the darkness was gonna eat you alive in that room.

Alfred told you they were just busy, some even a bit jealous that you got to live a normal life. You never understood why they would be jealous though. You would kill to be able to be like them. Famous hero’s , one that sends villains shivers down their spine and a warm feeling to civilians. Who would want to give that up to well.. be you. You weren’t able to save people like they could. You couldn’t fight like they could. You weren’t even that athletic. So why would they be jealous of you?

You were walking back from a friend’s house. You didn’t wanna bother their parents with asking for a ride home, and Alfred was already busy. It was quite nice outside so you didn’t mine walking home. The only problem though was how the sun was starting to set. It was scary being out alone in Gotham, and the recent joker attacks didn’t help making Gotham’s streets safe. You knew you would have to start taking alleyways if you wanted to make it home before it was completely dark and cold outside. You pull your jacket closer to you, trying to preserve more heat.

You were about to turn a corner into one of the alleyways back home, but then you heard a small whimper in the alley. You paused for a moment. Stilling to try and see if you could catch the sound again. Then another pleading whimper coming from the alley way. You take a deep breath. This could be your moment! You can be someone’s night and shining armor!

You ball your fist up, getting ready to attack if you need to (thought it really wouldn’t do any good.) you quickly turn the corner. “W-who goes there!” You stutter out, the anxiety clear in your voice. You soon stop in your tracks. The wounded..alien cat? It’s white fur now matted with a deep bloody red. It’s what looked like ears coming out of its ears sadly dropping on the ground.”O-oh my god! I’m so sorry are you ok.” You quickly rush to the bleeding cat’s side. Gently scooping it up in your arms.

“Hey hey now.. it’s ok! I’m gonna help alright. I’m not gonna let anything hurt you.” You said to the poor creature. Taking your jacket off and wrapping it around it. You were still freezing and would probably catch a cold, but at least you’re not bleeding out! You stumble to get up. Who knows what hurt the cat, or if it’s still lurking around.

You braced the odd creature closer to you before booking it. You’ve never ran faster in your life, but it wasn’t much problem keeping the same speed with the feeling of someone watching you, practically tracking you. No matter how much your lungs hurt. No matter how much your heart rattled against your ribcage. You ran for your and it’s life.

You closed the door of the mansion as fast as you could. No only were you glad to be out of the freezing cold, but also glad that whatever was CERTAINLY following you couldn’t get in. “It’s ok..kitty”, you hesitantly say, not wanting to offend it by calling it the wrong species. “You are in good care!”, you proudly say.

You walked as quietly as you could to the downstairs bathroom closest to the bat cave. They always kept a first aid or two under the sink. You open the door. The old wood groaning in protest. You gently set the little thing on the counter. Grabbing one of the first aid kits from under the sink.

“Hey kitty this is gonna hurt…”, you softly muttered, mostly to yourself to get yourself ready to clean its wounds. You applied the rubbing alcohol on the cotton pad. Starting to softly dab it against its wounds. You were surprised to see it not phased at all. “Wow you’re better at pain than I am.”, you giggled. Trying your best to keep the atmosphere lighthearted.

You quickly finish cleaning the poor space kitties wounds. Soon bandaging them up. It looked kind of sloppy, and probably wasn’t the best, but it worked. Keeping it from dying is all you cared about.

Now not rushed with the thought of loosing this new hopefully friend, you were able to step back and analyze how the creature looked. It had a pink ring on an its back, contrasting against the white fur. It also had what looked like droopy ears. The drooping appendages coming out of the ears also had some pink tint with some golden rings around he to floppy maybe ears. It looked exactly like a plushie, one that came to life! That would be so cool if your stuffed animals could come to life! You wouldn’t be lonely and would have people to talk to!

You quickly catch yourself from being stuck in thought. You have to focus on the task on hand! Looking at it, you can tell it must be tired, especially after loosing all that blood. You scooped the alien cat back into your arms, it was still silent, but you could tell it’s feeling much better. You quietly shut the door of the bathroom. Tip toeing up the manors stairs and into your room.

“Sorry my bed isn’t really big. My dad’s really busy and I don’t wanna bother him to ask for a new one.”, you whispered. Swallowing the lump in your throat just thinking about your father. You tucked the alien by your plushies, still wrapped in your warm jacket. Now it really looked like a plushie! “It’s my bedtime alien kitty. I’ll see you tomorrow,”, you said cheerfully. So happy to finally be able to talk to someone.

You don’t know what time it is, all you know that it’s storming outside and it’s extremely dark. You feel your hairs stand on the back of your neck. You felt that stalked sensation again. You were being watched. You would take a guest and say it was from your window, but you were way too scared to look up. Then you heard her.

“Listen to me, don’t trust the incubator. Don’t make a wish. Do you hear me. Get rid of him, get rid of that thing as fast as you can. Do it for your family and friends. Whatever you do, DON’T become a magical girl...”, her voice was cold but robotic, like she’s said it over and over again. You were now beyond terrified. You don’t wanna even know what was outside by your window, you grab your blankets as you shake in terror. What did you get yourself into… Maybe the family was right. Your heart was too big for you.

Authors note: I might have forgotten about this draft but it’s ok! It’s finally out and that’s what is most important.(forgot my tag list)

@princesscosmo

@linasrosetown

[witherby]

(same anon) mouse!!! sorgy!!

Okay! Strange influx of mutilation-based hypotheticals I've been receiving lately, but okay!

This is not canon to the main Flittermouse series!

What would your family + Kon do if you lost an eye?

⚠️ vague description of injury, loss of an eyeball ⚠️

Masterlist is Here!

Bruce:

Get you a doctor and try to keep you as chill as possible. This man has trained himself not to panic in terrible situations and he is going to stay so very calm and cool and collected, so that you feel like he's got this under control.

"Hi, honey. I can see we've got a bit of a problem on our hands. Don't freak out — I'm gonna figure this out for you, alright? Keep that eye — the socket — keep the eyelids closed. Yes, great. Press this towel gently to your face and hold it there. I'm taking you to the hospital. Are you — okay, and the shock has set in. It's alright. I'm right here. It's okay."

Hal:

Try not to pass out. There's just a socket where your eyeball should be. That's insane. He's calling Bruce for help and not looking at you. He's actually quite frightened that you ended up this way and the guilt at his initial, improper reaction is gonna tear him apart later.

"Oh my god?? What happened!! No don't tell me, we have to get you help first. Holy shit. How did you lose a whole — gag — eye? NO don't tell me!! It's okay, Mousey, it's fine! Deep breaths, don't pass out. You look like you're gonna pass out. Me?? I'm not gonna pass — hrk — I'm good I'm good. How is the whole thing gone like that!? NO DON'T TELL ME. BRUCE ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE —"

Alfred:

Following a similar procedure as Bruce. Keeping himself calm so that you'll try to be calm, while he's getting you help.

"I've actually seen something similar to this happen before. I'm former British Intelligence, there is very little that's new to me, my darling Flittermouse. Come, let me administer a pain killer and then escort you to my car. I'm sure that smarts quite a bit. Watch your step — forgive the poor choice of words. I have you, dear. Let's get you to the emergency room and get that taken care of. All you have to do is stay awake."

Dick:

Almost passed out, not gonna lie. There's a hole in your head that isn't supposed to be there. It's fucking horrifying. Only his years and years of training help him keep his cool enough to get you to the emergency room, but after that he's breaking down and crying.

Jason:

Takes you to the ER but he's asking you as many questions as possible before you succumb to shock.

"What happened? Who did this? What do you remember? Are you hurt anywhere else?"

After you're in the doctors' hands, he's chasing leads so he can kill the bastard that cost you an eye.

Tim:

He's freaked. Worse than Hal even. I think he deserves a big character flaw so he'd actually be incredibly squeamish. Can't do the gorey shit at all. Like, can't breathe, can't look at you, can't-do-anything-except-have-a-panic-attack kind of freaked. His panic feeds into your panic until you're both uselessly crying into a phone calling 9-1-1. It works, and help comes, but boy he does not have control of the situation.

Damian:

At this point, you're old enough that Damian is in the middle of his doctorate program and residency, if not already done with it. He's doing a fantastic job treating the wound and making sure you don't get hurt worse or it gets infected, before he can't do anything more without surgery and takes you to the hospital.

Medical jargon flies out of his mouth when he talks to coworkers and seamlessly guides you through the corridors to the correct area, communicating what you need and having them prep a surgical team.

In-between it all, he's not giving you meaningless platitudes but he is telling you that everything is going to be fine. You'll likely have some bad depth perception for a long time, but this isn't the end of anything. You can go to culinary school. You can apply for a business license. You can keep dating the alien half-breed idiot. You'll just do all of that with one less eyeball. And the person who did it will die, but you don't need to bother yourself with that. It's fine.

+ Conner:

You'll be flown to the hospital in 0.2 seconds. He's not asking questions, he's not making any phone calls, he's just taking action. He gets you help, he tells you he'll be right back, and then he goes and alerts your family as to what happened.

Now that the most important bits are done, he's using his powers to get a lil freaky. He knows what you smell like, so he's tracing back your blood to try and find your missing eyeball so he can kill whoever took it. No questions asked. Sorry, you don't get to hurt his mate and also survive the next 24 hours. It's just not happening. Don't blubber, don't bargain, don't try to explain yourself. Just die.

After his errands are done, he isn't leaving your side again.