#Damian tries to deny that he's turning into his father

[bluerosefox]

Glowing Green Puppy, Tiny Tots, and Damian 'I am not turning into my Father' Wayne.

I've been seeing a few DPxDC Dad!Damian ideas so I'd like to toss my idea into the void of the internet.

Damian is on a lead about a glowing green puppy, that can apparently change size and go through walls, and finally manages to track it down before even his father hears about it. The puppy seemed to be stealing random things too.

He was fully ready to use all the tricks in the book to get the puppy to trust him... and after a few days/weeks he manages to gain its trust.

He just wasn't expecting the puppy to drag him to abandoned warehouse and drop him in front of a few kids that were hiding out in it.

"Oh! Cujo you finally brought your new person over!" says the only red-haired one in the group, and she was holding a baby, as two almost identical toddlers ran over to the excited pupper that began to run around them.

[foerchen]

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Batman isn’t the only one fiercely protective of his Robins.

Jason’s death led to the Rogues turning against the Joker—especially Harley. By then, she had already realized the extent of his abuse and had left him. So when she learned that her favorite Robin—a tough Crime Alley kid—had been beaten to death by her ex the first time she wasn’t around, she went ballistic.

Once, a newcomer held Nightwing at gunpoint and tried to unmask him on live television. When Harvey Dent saw how close this was to his own hideout, he knew he couldn’t let it slide. He wasn’t blind or foolish—he knew exactly who Nightwing was. The first Robin. A ray of sunshine—badass yet kind. Harvey took only a second to recall how that same little Robin had once helped him through a dissociative episode, choosing to assist rather than arrest him. And that was enough. The newcomer was never seen again.

As much as Damian disliked how close Catwoman was to his father, Selina adored the little kitten. He was honest, fierce, and compassionate in his own way. She loved that he shared her fondness for cats and animals. So when the shelter Damian volunteered at was attacked by Black Mask’s goons, Selina made sure that by the end of the month, Roman wouldn’t have a single piece of art left in his collection.

Eddie could hardly deny that his favorite Robin was the third one. After all, that particular little bird not only respected him as the Riddler but could also solve all his riddles effortlessly. So when a few goons rudely barged into their monthly riddle session, Eddie was not amused. He made sure they knew it.

Consider this your warning: Do not harm the Robins. Unless, of course, you fancy some trouble with the Rogues.

[batchilla]

In Any Kinder Universe - Prologue

There's a boy on your front doorstep. He looks about ten, and you would not be at all concerned, where it not for the league of assassins garb he wore. You were still fairly sure you could take him, but if you could, you would prefer to avoid beating up a child. You allow the curtain to float back down into place, and move out of the living room to the entryway. Had you known the league would come, perhaps you would have let him slip something a little more heavy duty into your bag … but then why would Ra's send a little boy? and why does he have a suitcase half his size? You open the door, looking down at him. "You lost, buddy?" "No," the boy replies, staring at you as if you've disappointed him. Wait. That stare.

"Your address was on father's computer as a safe house for code red or black scenarios." He moves into your house, leaving the case behind as if he expects someone else to collect it.

"Father's?" you echo, blinking. Oh. "My father; perhaps you are a lesser detective then I was lead to believe. It seems the trend. The Batman." Maybe it would have been preferable if Ra's Al Ghul sent him to kill you. "A son of the bat in leagues robes?" "My Mother is Thalia Al Ghul. I believe you have met. I am Damian Al Ghul, heir to the demon's head and the bat." You had indeed met Thalia. Ten years ago when you were a scrap of a girl, still learning to flip and jump and fly, yet to be given the mantle, she had come to Gotham. You saw why now, or at least the consequences. The boy's heritage was obvious. You roll your neck, flexing your hands to fight the urge to reach for something in a belt you no longer have. "fascinating as that may be, it doesn't explain why you came here." The boy levels another look you know well at you, as if he sees all you are and finds you lacking. "I understand you trained alongside Gordon and Grayson, and then Todd, later training Drake and Brown." discomfort wells in your chest as you feel the ghost of a too tight cowl suppressing your face. "I don't know that I trained alongside Babs and Dick… I came in right before the … before she was attacked and he left." "But you did in fact train with and later train every previous Robin. It is also true that you yourself were once slated to replace Grayson." You nod. "But I didn't, and then I left." "Then you quit. Soon, I will take my rightful place by my father's side, and I will not be the first denied your tutoring." Your head aches, and vision blurs slightly. "Tim isn't Robin anymore? what- what happened?" "He was replaced by the Batman's true heir. He is not dead, if that's where you went. Grayson said you were sensitive now. weak. I see why my father had you go. Still, he speaks highly of you. When I asked about you - do you know what he said?" "I'm sure you're about to tell me." you mutter, but the boy pays no heed to the bitter tone. "He named you his greatest protege. Claimed Drake and Brown flourished under your guidance. Then demanded I stay away. Leave well enough alone and let you rot here in central city suburbia." you scoff. "Healing, not rotting. I hate to burst whatever weird bubble you're in, but I am out of the game. Scram." Damian shakes his head. "No. If you are what father claims, I will study under you." "And if I refuse?" "Batgirl, turning away a Robin asking for help? Unlikely." It happens before you can think, you grab his shoulder and slam him against the door frame. "That is not my name anymore!" He grabs your wrist and tries to twist out of your grasp, but you lock in and stand as stone. It takes you a minute to realise what's happening. Thalia's boy or not, goading little shit or not, Damian was a child. You let go and take a step back. It's not your name anymore. The mantle no longer yours. Technically if he wanted Batgirl, he ought go to Stephanie Brown. But he was a child, and name or no, if you turned him away and something happened to the kid… Sick laughter rings in your ears. Jason, so broken down, sat in that chair. The shot. Your partner… your best friend and first love dead so quickly after so much pain. "Take your stuff upstairs, third door off the landing. I- I need to have a diazepam and make a goddamn call."

You stare at the contact, as if that will fix the scenario. As if you can inflict your ire on the man who lent you his last name through manifestation alone. You cannot. He answers immediately, his tone completely blank, as if he's not even registered that this is the first time you've spoken in over a year. Your first name and nothing more, clipped and short. "Bruce, hi. Lose a brat, lately?" You are proud of how level you keep your voice. "Might've appreciated knowing I had another brother before he showed up. I'd have stocked the fridge with goldfish or something." Except you didn't, you didn't have a new brother, not really. Bruce didn't truly see you as a daughter, just a toy soldier. A truth that had slapped you in the face after you'd had a breakdown and needed to step out of the cowl, and your use to him was over. He hadn't even said goodbye. Just slipped an emergency alert into your bag at some point. The one trinket you kept from 'home'. "Damian arrived safely then." Your eyebrows raise "You sent him?" "I told him to stay away. To grant you space. Someone will be around shortly to collect him." "…" you feel pathetic to ask it. "You told him I was a good teacher?" "Something like that." is the unreadable reply. "Think he has anything to learn from me?" Your voice is thick and you fight the need to let it rasp as you swallow back the panic and the fear and the hope he brings. Even now, after so much time, and anger, and therapy, some part of you is that little girl desperate for the love of the only father you have ever known. "I do." "Then… maybe he can stay, just for a little while."

INCIDENT REPORT Concerned Parties: Batman. Batgirl Metahuman - Civilian {SEE FILE}. Incident nature: Phone call. Duration: 3 minutes 34 seconds. Notable information: Damian to reside temporarily with civilian to receive training. First contact with Civilian in 13 months, 2 weeks and 3 days post incident {SEE FILE} Personal notes: Damian has broken prototypical regarding his sister. She is to be left alone, per her request. To be reprimanded on return. She sounded initially calm and making snarky commentary but swiftly became distressed. Confirms suspicion that her leaving this life is for her best health. Distance to be maintained. Greatly relieving to hear from her again. She is missed. Incident marked closed at 1900 by Batman.

Hi! Batchilla here! Repeat after me team: if I vote on the poll and don't reblog, I am a piece of shit and need to learn basic tumblr etiquette!

Files MAY become available if they do not win the poll they first appear in... but I make no promises. Thank you to @k1ssyoursister for making the divider. Thank you to @sunnie-angel for giving this a beta read. and the biggest thank you possible to @heavysighing-dreamyeyes for letting me yap at you so much about this series, you have been unreal.

[redflagshipwriter]

Mama Bat 8: Hungry

Masterpost

Danny would prefer to strike that unfortunate incident from the record and his memory. As soon as he figured out how to cause selective brain damage, it was all over for the mortifying ordeal of being perceived in weakness. He swung his legs miserably over the bathroom counter’s edge and pretended very hard that he was alone in Amity Park where no one noticed or cared if he threw up. 

He was still in the room where Cass had hustled him to clean off his face and see if there would be an encore. He’d had to make a tactical retreat away from the toilet to higher ground when big bats flapped in after him. Presumably they’d learnt that he threw up when Cass went to get whatever supplies one needed to clean partially digested yogurt off antique carpet. Ancestral carpet. Probably made of some nutty rich person material like, uh, hair from the manes of prize-winning horses.

Somehow, Danny cringed even harder. He needed brain damage immediately, please.

“And you’re certain that you don’t need to visit a medical facility?” 

Batman brooded in the literal way that a chicken brooded. Danny tightened his grip on the counter just that little bit more so that no one could drag him into a nest and sit on him. “Wouldn’t do any good,” he said shortly. It came out a little too mean. He tried to correct his voice to be nicer. “Thanks. Tho.” Danny cleared his throat.

“Tt.” Damian expelled air against his front teeth and glowered at his father. “He looks terrible. You cannot believe this.”

Wait, what? Danny blinked down at Uncle Damian, betrayed. “I look terrible?” he echoed. What the hell? Criticism, from Dames? That was new and it sucked a lot.

Bruce got a pinched look. “Danny, honey, you have been looking a little…” He trailed off. “Unwell.”

‘That would be the lack of ectoplasm,’ Danny thought snidely. He kept his mouth firmly shut and turned away. Unfortunately, he caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror and winced at it. He did look pretty wan and thin. It was hard to put a finger on what was off about his appearance, but it was sort of… deathly.

He was putting on weight again thanks to Alfred and Damian’s monitoring of his diet, but it was just a fact that he wasn’t really suited to this environment. Too human to survive in the big Green yonder, too undead to get by on bread alone.

‘...How does Jason do it? His vibes are rank and ghastly as shit,’ Danny thought enviously. ‘He screams BITCH I'M ABOUT TO COMMIT AN INTERDIMENSIONAL WAR CRIME constantly. It’s pretty fucking impressive. An aura like that is not sustained by creme anglaise and goulash. He has to have access to ecto somewhere.’ 

Danny really should have wondered that before. Jason had to be like, the most liminal human being around who wasn’t a halfa. He definitely needed ecto. Where was he getting it? Danny hadn’t really consciously thought about it, but… He felt himself tinge a little green again.

‘Was I feeding off of his ambient ectoplasm when he was here yesterday?’

His mouth filled his saliva that still tasted both sour and like toothpaste. Danny swallowed it with effort. He did not think of how good ecto tasted after you’d been denied and drained. He did not think about the sense memory of how living ecto would indent and then give with a juicy pop around his teeth, splash the inside of his mouth-

Danny buried his face in his hands and tried not to look like he was going to throw up again. Because he was not going to do that. He was not going to eat Jason and he was not going to throw up.

“Danny.” Bruce somehow made his huge strong guy vibes less intense. Danny reluctantly made eye contact to see that the guy kinda had homeless Labrador eyes at the moment. Big. Begging. Full of love and grandfatherly support that he's just waiting for you to accept. “Can I ask you a question?” 

Ugh. Yuck. Feelings.

Danny fidgeted, flexing and tensing his feet. “Yeah,” he said, after a too-long silence. “What's up?”

Damian crossed his arms over his chest, radiating intensely negative child energy into the room.

“Is there something that I'm not providing for you that would help you?” Bruce's voice was excruciatingly gentle.

Danny went stiff. 

Okay, maybe Batman wasn't a big dummy. Danny broke eye contact to look at his knees. His new jeans didn't have the usual tears over his knees. He stared at the weave, picking out an individual line of thread. Everything was so weird now. He was weird now. He’d made sense before but now he was the thing that was wrong and out of place. If he was more normal he could admit that he needed help. He could say what it was, if it wasn’t so freakish and he wasn’t struck silent by the knot in his gut.

“Whatever you need,” Bruce quietly promised. He lowered himself more to Danny's level. “I know a family who all need sunlamps to survive the winter. I have a friend who travels with his own fish tank of fresh ocean water whenever he’s on land.”

That didn’t sound very human. 

Danny sniffed. Ugh, his nose was leaking. He wiped at it with the back of a hand. “Like that tentacle horror guy from the pirate movie?’ 

Bruce's lips twitched. “Exactly like that,” he lied gravely.

He took a shaky breath in. He licked his lips. He glanced up and caught sight of Damian. Sweet, prickly Damian. The preteen was glowering as if that would hide how concerned he was. 

‘He’s a kid. That's a whole ass child. I’m not telling him I'm an existential horror that is tempted to commit cannibalism. Especially not when I’d have to admit that his big brother smells like a whole graveyard buffet.’

Damian sure talked a lot of shit, but he loved his family. A lot. He would have feelings that were way too big for his body about his ‘nephew’ needing to eat something like his big brother Jason. 

Not that Jason was a something. He was a person. Jason was definitely a someone. Danny winced away from that train of thought.

“Danny?” Bruce was barely audible. Danny blinked back to awareness to see that the man was tightly leashed in place by his self control. It was obvious that Bruce very badly wanted to take three steps closer and touch Danny. Danny drew his legs up onto the counter and hid his face between his knees. He didn’t want to look at anyone, he didn’t want to feel pressured to say anything. 

The new posture was convenient because it hid that he was starting to cry. He trembled with the effort to stay silent and mop his tears directly onto the new jeans that smelled like someone else’s laundry detergent..

He was being stupid. That was classic Danny. He hid things that didn’t need to be and he accidentally told people what should be secrets. Was he ever going to get it right? He should just tell them. Tell them! He tried to berate himself into working up the nerve but his jaw might as well have been wired shut in a morgue.

The bathroom went silent. Danny waited and waited for someone to say something. He frowned after a while even as he began to relax. Then he deliberately listened. 

It sounded like he was alone. 

It didn’t seem right, though. It took him a few moments to ping onto what he knew that disproved that. There was a warm, quiet presence about a foot to his left waiting patiently. It wasn’t quite ghostly, even though it was totally silent.

Danny sniffled on his next inhalation.

Cass didn’t say anything.

He lifted his head to see for certain that Bruce and Damian had left the room. They probably hadn’t gone far.

‘She must have asked them to get out when she came back.’

The room spun around him, blurred through his eyelashes. It might as well have been a dream. There was no harm in a dream.

“I need ectoplasm,” Danny admitted. Cass didn’t say anything or touch him. There was no pressure. He could float away if he wanted to. It was safe to admit it now. “That’s what I’m missing. And I can’t get it here. That’s why I came to Gotham. It’s not really easy to get on the living side of things. But Gotham is kinda liminal, so there’s some hotspots.” He paused. He wasn’t sure why. The air felt fragile.

Suddenly, he knew he didn’t want her to say anything yet. Danny swallowed and rushed on. “It’s, uh. What ghosts are made of.” His voice was so raspy that it didn’t even sound like him. “Jason has a lot, actually. But I don’t anymore. So. I need some.”

Cass leaned over very deliberately to put her arm over his shoulder. It was warm and real. The weight of it would keep him from floating away. He could feel the slight flex of her bicep muscles.

He swallowed. He leaned into her.

“We’ll get you what you need,” Cass promised. Simple as that.

[astraeus-tree]

Can you write something with Damian X Reader where R is an extremely intelligent girl, to the point of having discovered the secret identities of the entire Batfam only two months after moving to Gotham, and who is constantly in the Bats' action scenes (Like she shows up anywhere they're fighting criminals just to recite one by one the reasons why she's sure they're the Waynes, even with all of them denying it and pretending she's a complete crazy person. A bonus if Damian "hates" her (it's actually just misunderstood love because she's just awesome and he can't handle himself)). By the way: your Batfam fanfic is great!

Sometimes Things Aren't As Plain As They Seem

Pairing: Damian X F!Reader

Warnings: Self harm, blood, mention of torture near the end

Reader and Damian's age aren't specified and I'm really sorry but you can tell I gave up at the end I've also never written for Damian so he's probably ooc

You've held a secret for the past few months now.

No one else knew this secret of yours. Well, except the people involved in this classified information. Namely, the Wayne family and those close to them. In fact, this secret wasn't even yours to share.

What this secret was? The identity of the vigilantes that patrolled the streets of Gotham. Yes, the birds, the bat and those that worked with them in Gotham.

Your first hint was almost instantaneous after moving here. After all, who would have enough money for all those gadgets that Batman uses? Almost every citizen has come to realise that he doesn’t have any powers— with the exception of a few—so the only other reason would be man-made technology. But those costed money, and most people in Gotham could never afford those, so that left the rich or those with connection to them.

After this realisation, you made it your mission to find out their identities. It was a personal goal of yours, another thing to add to your list of achievements. And you did it. Just two months in to living in Gotham at that.

However, you needed confirmation. You were almost certain you were right, but you needed one final confirmation. You had doubts. The main being that it was hard to believe that someone from the high society of Gotham would even think to help the poor without a hidden motive. Bruce Wayne—Batman—had proven himself multiple times, yet the doubt would linger at the back of your mind.

So what better proof than word from the mouths of the heroes themselves?

Lately, Damian’s been dreading the patrols around Gotham. The reason being was this girl, around the same age as him, you.

In almost every patrol, you had interrupted them. You had somehow found out their routes for their patrols, even when they tried everything to make it impossible to track them. When questioned, you would say that there is a pattern in everything, that’s what made people human. Human, not a hero, not a killer, just human.

You would constantly put yourself in danger, just trying to get an answer from him and his father. You would always list reasons why Gotham’s vigilantes were the Waynes. It was almost endearing annoying.

In fact, you were a danger yourself. You were a risk. You could easily spill their identities.

So tonight, he would warn you. Save you. Unfortunately for you, his job was to analyse anything and everything about someone suspicious, and in his family’s books, you were one. Fortunately for him, you were easy to find, because just as you said, there is pattern in everything.

It was another night of you trying to get your final, solid evidence. You snuck around the streets of Gotham, heading to the area where you next expected Batman and Robin to start their patrol.

As you made you way, you felt eyes boring holes into you. You reached your hand into your pocket, clutching the pocket knife inside. As you heard a thud of a pair of feet landing on the ground, you turned around, shoving the knife at the person’s throat.

Your eyes widened when you saw a familiar domino mask staring back at you. Robin—Damian Wayne. What the hell? You’re usually the one to look for them, not the other way around. What’s with this turn of events?

“(Last Name).” His voice is sharp, not even bothered by the knife pointed at his neck.

“Robin? Why are you here? You’re not supposed to be on patrol yet.”

“Of course you would know that.” He mutters under his breath. “You’re putting yourself in danger. You need to stop or we will make you.”

“I- what?” You stumbled back, confused at his words.

“Stop following us. For your safety and our own.”

“Well maybe if you finally gave me answers, I’d finally leave you guys alone.” You cross your arm and roll your eyes. You knew you were being stubborn to a fault, but you really wanted this confirmation.

“And what will you do with this information?” He returns the action and raises his eyebrow.

“Nothing. Swear on my life.”

“And how should I trust you?” He asks, skeptically. There was an awkward silence between you two for a moment. You stared into each other’s eyes, before you put the knife to your palm and let the blood dripple down on the ground.

“May Lady Gotham herself place a curse on me should I lie.” You see his face twist, trying to make sense of what you just did. This was probably a stupid idea, but you needed answers. After all, the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back.

“Why did you do that? Do you know what you’ve just done?” Robin was dumbfounded. Who in the world would someone in their right mind make an oath like that just for some answers? Apparently you. He was almost amazed.

“Of course I do. Just tell me what I want to hear already.”

“Fine. You’re right. Will you stop putting yourself in danger already?” He sighs defeatedly. A smirk forms on your face, another goal achieved.

“I was right.”

“You were right.”

“Well, that’s all I needed! See you around wonderboy!” You turn on your foot, not waiting for his reaction to your nickname for him, and start walking back to your house. You’ll definitely be recording this down in your journal when you arrive.

“Hey wait! You hand’s still bleeding!” You stop in your tracks and look at your hand and back at Robin, now confirmed Damian Wayne.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt that much. I’ll just bandage it up at home.” Actually, it did hurt, but you wanted to look cool in front of him. I mean who wouldn’t want to in front of the guy they like?

Another silence falls between you two. You could see the conflicted look on his face, even with the domino mask covering half of it. You mentally laughed at his expression. After a few seconds, he seemed to finally come to a decision. He reached for your wounded hand, and you hesitantly let him hold it.

“At least let me help. I have some gauze in my utility belt to cover it.” This boy really was full of surprises, first coming to you to threaten you and now he’s helping you fix a self-inflicted wound. You truly chose the right guy to have a puppy crush on.

“Alright.” He held your hand gently, like you were fragile glass that would break in one wrong move. He pulled out a roll of gauze and wrapped it around your hand. You can hear him muttering stuff under his breath before finally speaking up.

“You’re actually crazy. why would you make an oath like that?”

“Aww is little birdie concerned about me?” You teased him.

“(Last Name).” He remained serious, but you reply with a chuckle.

“I don’t plan to break it, so it won’t affect me at all.” He looks up at you, a disapproving frown on his face. You return with a smile and his face flushes before he goes back to fixing your hand.

He finishes up quickly and lets you go home.

As you finally walked back home you could feel somehow following you, but you didn’t feel threatened. You knew it was Robin.

The next few nights, you left a few art supplies on your window sill, and by the time you would wake up, they would be gone

This eventually evolved into letters that you would write to him. At first, you were met with silence, but you pursued. Eventually, you would finally see a reply and from then on, you two became friends.

Unspoken words lingered between you two.

They remained unspoken until a rumour goes around the rogues of Gotham that you knew the identities of the vigilantes.

You, not having any connections with them, lived in blissful peace. That is, until you’re kidnapped and tortured for your knowledge.

You spend hours in pain, never spilling a word. Not only because of the oath, but also to not put Damian in danger.

After a few hours, you were finally saved. High in emotions, Damian accidentally takes his anger out on you, before realising his grave mistake.

He isn’t greeted with your smirk, no, instead he sees your tears. That’s when he’s forced to confront his feelings.

During your recovery, he visited almost every day, apologising profusely.

The tension doesn’t go away even after your fully recovered, but you slowly but surely warm up to him again.

It takes a while to get your friendship to normal, but when it does, you get closer and closer.

In fact, you would say you two were closer than before. So it would come to no one’s surprise when you two eventually ended up in a relationship.

Some explanation -

The oath is basically self-explanatory. Should you break it, Lady Gotham would place a curse on you. It honestly just came to my mind while I was writing this and I liked it so I decided to add it

I also wanted to play around with the sentient Lady Gotham so yeah

Anyways, I'm so sorry this is kinda bad 😭I might rewrite this one day since I'm really not satisfied with it

I had to dance around the topic of reader being smart because I honestly didn't know how to write that

Tysm for the request tho! As much as I struggled with it, I absolutely loved the idea <3

I wanted to go into more detail but I got writers block in between and didn't want to make it multi-part so I had to do that last part like that 🥲

You guys know the drill, any mistakes are free to be pointed out and I will fix them as soon as possible

Don't know if anyone actually reads my long ahh A/N's, but if you do, asks are encouraged as I do love to interact with people and they give me motivation

[igotanidea]

Home : bat!family x bat!sister

Summary: no one gets to offend my siblings and father. No one but me. I'll make sure of it.

***

Maybe it was a bad idea to apply for that Erasmus program and leave her brothers and adoptive father alone for whole three months. Sure, studying abroad, expanding knowledge, learning language and customs was an amazing experience, but it came with the cost. The price of being in fear that her family would get themselves in trouble, pain, fight they could not recover from.

The first two weeks of her adventure was the worst, since she was waking up at most random night hours, ready to jump into fight, those vigilantes instincts and habits kicking in.

Those were the nights when she was turning and tossing in her bed unable to close an eye and in result sneaking out her dorm room and walk around the campus like the ghost. The quietness and peacefulness of her surroundings at the academy were so different from those she knew in Gotham, it was almost disturbing.

There was no denying that Y/N was the smartest in the family, even Tim admitted it once (obviously not while talking to her, but she overheard his conversation with Bernard) but at times like this she was second-guessing her choices.

Due to her specific upbringing and family background she also never managed to form any deep connection with her fellow students, preferring to stay by herself, focus on the task and putting a lot of work into expanding her knowledge and skills in technology. She never complained, but from other people’s perspective she was an eremite. Kind, polite with perfect manners when someone asked her for something or while working in group, but still highly reserved. Just like her adoptive father, whose relation to she was trying to keep a secret. And it worked up to the day when one of the lecturers accidentally called her  “Miss  Wayne” in front of the whole class. The second he did it the air in the auditorium froze. She might have been in different country, but for God’s sake she was studying technology, of course everyone heard about the Wayne Enterprises and the  Bruce Wayne.

“You’re his daughter?” one of the boys in the lower row turned around and eyed her suspiciously

“Yes. Adoptive one.”

“Of course. He’s well known for taking kids in, right? Seems like some sort of complex or maybe even a disease” he smirked and it made the girl clench her fist. Her relationship with Bruce might have been rocky, but no one except her and her brothers were allowed to judge and offend him.”

“Care to elaborate on that?” she hissed, eyeing the guy with ice cold gaze

“Miss Y/L/N! Mister Olsen! Please calm down and sit down!” the teacher tried to make up for his mistake but it was far too late for that.

“You misspelled my name once, might as well keep calling me Wayne now.”  the tone of her voice matched the gaze. She was not going to let the guy easily, but getting in trouble with the dean was not a part of her plan. “Now, can we continue with the lecture? I don’t know about anyone else in her, but speaking for myself I would love to actually learn something useful.”

***

Y/N was the middle child. Younger than Dick and Jason, older than Tim and Damian which placed her literally halfway  in the family. Because of that she was a mix of responsibility and carelessness, doing her own thing, not always the right way, but still capable of getting away with a lot more than the others. Not as family oriented as Dick, feeling a bit overshadowed by Jason, highly competitive with Tim and more independent and individualistic than Damian. Still, even despite her “boss bitch” attitude, she was sandwiched between her brothers which made her the best negotiator and mediator in the family. Y/N also had a strong sense of fairness and morality and would always try her best to do the right things. Objectively, not subjectively. And making fun of her family was not one the things she could forget. However, before taking any action she had to gather intel, figure out what the guy knew and then come right at him.

***

Waiting till the end of the class was probably the greatest torture she ever had to endure, every minute stretching into infinity and when it was over the sense of relief almost made her drop the plan. Almost.

“I’m not done with you, Olsen.” she was faster to the door, stopping her potential victim from getting away.

“You want more, Wayne?”

“Please. Hit me with your best shot. What is your problem with my family, exactly?”

“Let me think” he tapped his chin. “There are so many. Like for instance, your oldest brother. What was his name again? Oh, right! Dick. Suits him quite well, doesn’t it. A prick, if you ask me. Definitely a show-off with no skills.” He scoffed “Shall I continue?”

“ Please. You got like three more people to gossip about.”

“The second in line, Jason, right? Oh, the unhinged  one. Violent, mocking, thinking he is better than anyone else around, when in reality he’s just a lost, scared child. Probably a dumbass too.”

“Pretty sure he would agree with that. Now what about Tim and Damian?”

At this point Olsen was getting a bit surprised that the girl in front of him was still unfazed. Her calmness, a sign of silent inside fury making him slightly uncomfortable.   Not enough to stop however.

“Drake…..” the name rolled of his tongue while the boy was wondering what words to choose “oh, he’s the gay one, right? Such a shame that the renowned Wayne family has someone like that as a member. Bet your father would never take him in, if he knew. A fairy becoming the next CEO of his renowned company. How ironic!”

“Hm.” Oh, Y/N was so much like Bruce at times and it showed in the least expected moments.

Damn that girl! How could it not make her angry?

“And …… Damian, the only biological child. Absolutely maladjusted and unaware of social norms and boundaries. Tell me, how was it like to have your youngest brother violate your boundaries and personal space?”

“It was. ….educatory. Just like it was with everything you just said. You presented yourself as someone with some serious psychological issues and possibly an unhealthy interest in my family’s life. So thank you, it truly was illuminating.”

***

“What the hell did you do Y/N?” a very alerted Dick appeared  on the other side of the screen

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” The girl sighted and fell onto the cushions bringing the computer onto her lap to see her brother better

“Don’t lie to me now, sis.”

“I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

“Bruce has been on the phone for the last fifteen minutes and from what I figured it’s about something that happened on the campus.”

“The only thing happening on the campus are students who skip classes.” She mumbled “maybe except that one time when one of the boys lost some stupid bet and blew up the fountain as some sort of punishment. That was funny.”

A little grunt was heard on Dick’s side and for a second he disappeared from the screen.

“Dick?”

“Sorry, I had a little interruption.” He rubbed his forehead “Now, back onto what you did…..”

“Did you say that someone blew the fountain?” third face appeared on the screen in the corner, taking over the conversation.

“Hello, Jason.”

“Hi sis. Maybe I should have joined you in your academic career. Seems like you have a lot of fun there. Besides, I never really finished school, since you know…. I died.”

“We know.” Y/N and Dick said in unison

“Always a good opportunity to remind you, right?” he grinned “Now, sis, tell me, how was it going full rogue on fellow student? I gotta admit I’m proud of you here.”

“So that’s what this is about?” Dick’s eyes grew wider than ever “I;m gonna ask you once again, Y/N. what did you do?”

“Nothing permanent.”

“What…..?”

“Cut her some slack, Grayson.”

“Look who decided to join us.” Y/N smirked “improved your computer skills much, Damian?”

“I got tired of being left out.”

“Since when do you care about the group?”

“Leverage, sis. Knowledge is power, I thought you knew that.”

“Ok, that is enough!” Dick finally lost his patience “I’m trying to have a conversation with my little sis here. Both of you, get out of the line!”

“Mhm, keep dreamin’ Dickhead.”

“For once I agree with Todd.”

“You have no right to…..”

“Guys…..” Y/N tried to mitigate them, but deep inside she enjoyed their bantering. It was a while since she experienced it and only now realized how familiar it was.

“I was here first!” Dick yelled “And I’m the oldest”

“No one cares Grayson! You are a Bludhaven resident now.  Just because you visit the manor does not mean you can keep Y/N busy using the wayne’s devices!”

“Don’t you have someone to kill in the crime alley, Jay?”

“Unlike you, I succeeded in all my latest missions.”

“Is that what you call coming back to your safe house bloodied and injured. You were on the verge of death!” Damian smirked “you were absolutely inept, that’s not a success.”

“You were what, now?!” Y/N shrieked. Her second oldest brother was sometimes too careless.

“It was not that bad, Y/N, I swear. And how the fuck do you know about it, demon?”

“I have my ways.”

“I would suspect Drake of spying on me, but you?”

“Speaking of the devil, I’m surprised Tim hasn’t already join us.” Dick muttered

“Oh, he did.” Y/N pointed out

“WHAT?” her brothers cried. Now there was another one fighting for her attention and it was not a secret that Tim was her favorite making the situation harder.

“I did.” Tim chuckled  “Well, to tell the truth Y/N let me in the channel. We have our ways with technology. Something none of you could ever fully understand. “

“Of course not….”

“Cheer up, Dami. You can’t monopolize all the areas.”

“I would beg to differ.”

“Ok, everyone hold up here. I think we lost the point of the conversation. The thing was that Bruce was on the phone, probably taking to the dean about….”

“Y/N played a little prank on her classmate, is that right?” of course Tim was the one who everything best.

 “He deserved it.”

“Y/n…..”

“Stop using the big brother voice on me! It’s not going to work!”

“How about we use Damian’s youngest one?” Dick teased

“I refuse to be used in this….”

“SHUT UP DAMIAN!” Dick and Jason shouted together and shared a murderous look between one another. Now they were both desperate to find out what happened since Tim would rather die than spill the bean. It was infuriating. They were the older brothers! This had to mean something.

“Ok, that’s it.” Damian stood up and the view of the empty chair in the place where his face should be was highly disturbing.

“That is not good.” Y/N said out loud something that all of them already knew. Her presumptions turned out to be right a second later when the shouting and yelling reverberated through the speakers and a blur of black and green rushed into Dick’s room.

“hey, I want to join the fight too!” Jason started up and with a speed, Wally West could be jealous of involved in the mix of limbs and screams.

“Wait! I though Dick was in Bludhaven! Tim?”

“Not today. We’re all in the manor.”

“And you idiots were talking to me through four different computers?”

“Are you actually surprised?”

“On second thought, not at all.” She sighed. It’s a good thing you are the reasonable one here…..”

“There you are, Timmy” now the situation has turned as it was Dick who appeared in the door of Tim’s bedroom “you are not  getting out of this. If you want Y/n to yourself you have to fight me.”

“And me!” Jason tackled Dick to the ground with a loud thump

“Losers!” Damian jumped over their bodies and came right at Tim

Because of their actions, Y/N was the only one who noticed two men stepping from the shadows and exchanging some words. Apparently Bruce wasn’t capable of putting the boys in their places and asked Alfred to try this instead. And a single grunt from the butler did a miracle as all of them stood up and started explaining and apologizing. Funny as it was, Y/N knew that with Bruce’s arrival she was heading straight towards preaching from her father.

“Y/N.”

“Hello Bruce.”

“Did you break his arm?”

“You broke his arm?” Dick was halfway out but turned back immediately

“No.” Y/n shook her head “I broke his arm and hurt his legs.”

“Don’t forget that you also demolished his dorm room.”

“That wasn’t me. That was….”

“Did you go at him as a vigilante? Wow! Way to go, sis. Now I truly am proud of you.”

“Ok, both of you, out!” Bruce lost the rest of his patience pushing Dick and Jay away. “Now that we are alone…….” he sighed deeply closing the door tight  

“I;m not sorry.”

“Oh, I know. And I’m not mad, because I’m sure you had a reason to do it. So tell me, why?”

“you…. you want to know ?”

“Of course. Look Y/n, I’m aware I won’t get  a father of the year cup from you, but I care all right? Did that boy hurt you and you took retaliation? Just tell me….”

“He was talking shit about our family.”

“And you felt the urge to protect the Wayne’s honor?” Bruce smirked “this is so not like you.”

“Honor, my ass. We’ve lost that ages ago, Bruce. The only thing I was protecting was my sole privilege of mocking you. No one else is allowed to do it.”

“I’ll be sure not to tell your brothers that you miss them. “

“That would be most welcome.”

“And you have to know that we don’t miss you either, y/n.” father and daughter’s gazes met and they both nodded in silent agreement, right corners of their mouths lifting almost unnoticeable. “You coming to visit next week?”

***

Something was wrong.

Something was terribly wrong and that tingling sensation became unbearable the second she climbed the manor’s stairs and reach for the doorknob with a heartrate so fast it would send anyone else straight into cardiac arrest. Y/N however kept her cold blood, focusing on what may happened inside and considering her options and strategies for a potential fight.

She could not expect  that the moment she opened the door four figures would jump out from the shadows making the noise that would bring the dead from behind the grave. It startled her and as a result she stumbled back, hitting the wardrobe and making it shake. She could not expect that on said wardrobe there would be packets and packets of paint and that those would fall down straight on her making her look like some abstractionism painting.

“I hate you all.” She muttered while her brothers run away in four different directions.

“Welcome home, miss Y/N” Alfred approached her with a tissue so she could at least wipe the paint from her eyes.

“Home.” She whispered “Yes, it definitely feels like it.”

It was good to be back.

But she was still going after them. .....

Later. When they would least expect it.

[k0nanharv3y]

Alfred who came down after hearing so much noise: What's going on here, Mr. Bruce, Mr. Tim?

And Tim's face turned to Alfred like a rubber band. Bruce's face took a little longer, but he also looked at the old man in pain, seeking comfort or advice from his father

Alfred looked between Tim's heartbroken face and Bruce's wounded face: I don't know what's going on here, but I would advise you both to change and take your conversation upstairs

And Tim only saw red

Tim: This is- I'm so done!, I'm so fucking done, with you!

He pointed aggressively at Bruce

Tim: You!

Damian, who had stood on the sidelines and now seemed personally offended

Tim: And you! And everyone else in this fucking family!

Finally he pointed at Alfred even more aggressively

Alfred, shocked by the open display of hatred towards him, he felt his heart heavy: Mr. Tim- I-

For the first time in perhaps ever, Alfred hesitated

Damian: Hey! You have nothing to yell at Pennyworth for!

He defended

Tim: Shut up Damian, this isn't about you!

He silenced him and turned to both adults now

Tim: It's about you, and what you did to me

Both adults looked at each other and remained silent

Tim: You, you were an abuser and I didn't deserve that, any of this, I've always tried to please you, to live up to what you wanted! And you?! You left him, Alfred, and I wish I didn't hate you like Dick and Jason do, but all I see when I come into this house is an abuser and the person who let him! Don't play dumb, Alfred, you- You're just as bad as Bruce! And even if Bruce was the problem, you never made me feel welcome! Never-! I had to walk home a hundred times with bruised ribs, ribs that you bandaged up and then pretended didn't exist!

His throat was now raw and his voice had become cracked and squeaky. And both adults, when they saw Tim, didn't see the 17-year-old running a multi-million dollar company, they just saw the 12-year-old excited to be Robin and looking for any kind of validation they could give him

And this was what they gave him, a house where he didn't feel safe or welcome, a family he avoided like fire avoids water, thousands of reasons not to return and they robbed him of any kind of childhood he could've had

And the two adults remained silent, unable to deny or say anything, because they had nothing to say. Tim had said enough for them

Tim: You say you loved all the children in this mansion, but guess what, Alfred, I was once a child myself, and the only thing I ever got from here, never came from you. When I came here to become Robin, I thought... I thought I might get something like Jason and Dick got, too, but it seems the only thing I'll get from you is an inscription on my grave. What will you put this time, Alfred? "A good soldier," "A good son"?

Silence was his response

Tim: Fuck you all

He pulled off his cape and threw it on the ground

Tim: Fuck you all. I'm tired of this, tired of-! Of everyone wanting something from me! I quit

He ripped off his tool belt and threw it at Bruce

Tim: I quit your stupid last name, I quit your stupid company, I quit being Red Robin, I quit everything

When he had nothing left to tear off, he kicked things off the floor

Tim: I'm done! And if you ever- And if you ever care even a little, don't look for me! I don't want anything to do with this family, all of you-!

He looked at the people in the cave and seemed about to cry

Tim: I hope you-! Fuck you all, I never deserved this! Fuck you, I hope you all fuck off and-!

His voice broke and his crying intensified

Tim: I hope you die

His voice trailed off as he tried to wipe away the tears that kept running down his cheeks

Tim: I hope you suffer at least a fraction of what you did to me and...! And... And why can't I hate you...? Why can't I hate you...?

His voice sounded so tired

Tim: All I ever wanted was to be... to be enough, for you to love me... and I want to hate you but- but you're my father, and they're my brothers and... and I'm so tired, I want to go home, I want to feel safe and I want to hate you! Why can't hate you?!

He collapsed on the ground, like all his other things, like a pathetic spectacle of a pathetic child. He felt miserable in the eyes of the people who hurt him, he felt vulnerable and naked and... and he didn't care anymore, the weight he had been carrying for so long finally lifted from his shoulders and he felt satisfaction at the heartbroken look on Bruce's face and the pain on Alfred's face, and Tim simply didn't care about being on the ground anymore

He didn't care about anything anymore, just like he didn't matter

///

Part 1 Jumpscare!!!

That awkward conversation I had!!

///

And no one gets any comfort because god knows I don't know how to write about comfort, Tim deserved that breakdown and Bruce and Alfred deserved to have someone point out to their faces that they were, in fact, abusive and ruined a child's life

I would do this with Dick, Jason, Damian and Barb too, but I haven't read many comics about them, fanfics? sure, but I don't know how much of it is canon and what their real personalities are

Bruce ruined his children's futures, but canonically he also saved them. Dick was saved from becoming GraySon, Jason was rescued from the streets, Damian was saved from the League of Assassins, and Barb... Barb made choices

But Dick was also condemned to the superhero life and all the harm that entails, Jason was condemned to die, Damian went from an abusive mother to a neglectful father, and Barb... well, she's now permanently in a wheelchair

There's just too much to unpack there!!!! And my psychology books are begging to be opened again, but Tim is my favorite and that means everything I think of will be about or referring to him

[iphoenixrising]

Something God/Messanger of the Gods/WhattheFuckEvenIsThis, HowIsThisMyLife au

I refuse to lie about it. This? Totally got the idea from a yaoi. 

**

From the Heavens, the Father of the Gods looks into the seeing waters at the realm of mortals. The young man with a soft smile, raven black hair, and shockingly violet eyes draws Bruce’s sighs, his son long denied him.

A promise to the boy’s mother while she carried their halfling child, that he would allow their son twenty-one years on Earth to live among other mortals. Once he came of age in their world, then he could be told about the Gods and brought into his power.

The more his three other sons clashed nowadays, it’s become obvious the boy is sorely needed.

Alfred, his second-in-command of their heavenly armies, stands by his right hand, watches the boy smile at a customer and hand over warm beverages humans seem to enjoy.

“He is certainly your blood, Sire,” Alfred comments idly, wondering how the mortals could be so dense as to not see the blatant appeal of the boy behind the counter. His face, while handsome with his father’s strong jawline, is pale with otherworldly beauty. His eyes shine with peace at every person that steps up to speak with him.

“Indeed. It is finally time for him to come home and take part in his birthright, old friend.”

Alfred turns away from the half-God they’re observing, “it has been a long time coming, hasn’t it, Sire?”

For a moment, the Father of the Gods, the former Titan, Bruce, looks sadly at the boy, hands fisting on the edge of the seeing water’s cradle. Even stone here in the Heavens would crumble under his fists.

“It is beyond time, my old friend. It is time he comes home.”

**

He is back to sitting on the throne when his three sons answer his call.

Dick, his firstborn, the God of Rebirth and Renewal.

Jason, his second born, the God of the Underworld.

Damian, his youngest, the God of War.

When the three appear before the massive door to his throne room, their voices echoing, the surge of pride in them fills his chest to near overflowing. His sons all grown into Gods of valor and might.

“Damn, Goldie,” Jason teases, a salacious grin at his brother’s normal tight body suit perfectly outlining every salacious inch. He pinches the material between two fingers, a contrast to his sharp, black, three-piece suit and the Demon’s intricate armor. “Betcha get all hot n’ bothered when it’s time ta hunt, ya feel me?”

Dick just snorts at his younger brother, knocking his hand away to sweep the taller God up in both arms and hold him off the ground.

“I know that just means you missed me, Jay. We haven’t seen each other since that last fight in the Underworld, when those underlings tried to overthrow you. We made a great pair, remember?”

Damian removes his helm, rolling his eyes at the antics of his older siblings, tries to remember he is the bright one of the family. (Even though he would obviously say Barbara is the smartest and Cassandra the most fearsome.)

“Yeah, yeah. Good ta see ya, too. Now pum’me down.”

“Aw, you’re no fun anymore. Where’s the snarky little hellion I used to give noogies?”

“See, that’s what policin’ damned souls does ta ya, yeah?”

Grinning behind his hand at their bickering, the Father of the Gods stands from his throne, strides down the white and gold steps, waves a hand to open the massive gold doors to his throne room to take in each of his sons into his arms, warm to his core at how well each still fits into his embrace even all grown up.

“Not to worry,” Bruce interrupts their banter. “Your sisters will see to everything while you are gone.”

He has their attention, and sighs, palming the side of Dick’s face, ruffling the white streak in Jason’s hair, and finally rests a hand on the back of Damian’s neck.

“Gone?” Damian’s immediate reaction is suspicion because Father gives the utterly worst tasks. 

“Barbara can handle being the Goddess of the Elements. Cassandra will make a formidable Goddess of War, and Helena will… enjoy taking on Goddess of the Underworld.”

“Not likin’ th’ sound’a this,” Jay straightens, slides his fingers over the lapels of his suit, smoothes out the lines. 

“If this is anything like the last few adventures, Bruce, you can just send someone else–“ Because, yeah, Dick has other things to do than run all over the place on another crazy God hunt. 

No thanks.

But rather than use the usual methods to gain their agreement, their great Father instead… sighs.

“The truth, my sons, is that I have called you all here because this undertaking is of the utmost importance. I can trust only you three, no others.  But, more to the point, I don’t think any but all of you together can accomplish it in time.” And it’s jarring to see the Father of the Gods look sad, tired, worn in the way of mortals. “In many ways, I am…torn that you will learn the truth in this manner, but come! Let me show you instead.” He leads them to the viewing pool where Alfred stands idly watching. 

The younger Gods crowd around the delicate bowl seemingly grown from the floor, full of the prophetic waters, a gift from Barbara.

For Father to need them like this, a task only his first sons could accomplish, they’re all a bit breathless wondering what this could possibly be. 

“A mortal?” Dami sounds less insulted than surprised, staring into the image in the waters. “A mere mortal, Father? It takes thousands to wage a decent battle.”

A second glance when Jason’s eyes narrow, when Richard leans further over the waters, licking his lips, and Damian pauses, tilts his head to be certain he is not imagining it.

A blink, a glance at his enraptured brothers, and the gentle glow about the mortal man, the curve of his pink mouth in a welcoming smile, the vibrant blue-violet of his eyes, the curve of biceps and shoulders, the way he merely moves is –

Mesmerizing.

“He ain’t a mortal. Can’t be. N’ I’d know if he was one a’ mine masquaradin’ on Earth,” Jay leans his forearms down on the water’s vessel.  “I can letta demon be beautiful, don’t geddit wrong. But that sweet lil’ innocent is something else entirely, ya feel me?”

“But he’s in the mortal world,” Dick reasons, looking back at what he assumes is their next prey. “He functions like he belongs there,” he gestures to the man taking money from customers, talking with a soft grace, a kindness they can feel through the waters without hearing a word.

“He should not be,” Damian’s hands tighten on the vessel, delicate gold and white creaking with the strength of it. “Mortals cannot see what he is as we can. They could–“ cause him harm, take him, own him, almost leaves the God of War’s lips. He balks at that line of reasoning, but still, his mouth waters in anticipation, his eyes cannot look away.

The Father of the Gods nods sagely, a worn sigh raising his chest, “unfortunately, he has borne many burdens from living in the mortal world. Some that would have broken a lesser creature. But, as you can see, my sons, he remains steadfast.”

Dick hums, still watching as the mortal is now apparently taking a large stack of cups from a plastic sleeve and putting them back down on some kind of holder. Seemingly ordinary as they come, but if this is the subject of their father’s attention, there must be more than meets the eye. As the eldest, he’s very well aware of their Father’s tendencies for a good, dramatic quest.  

“As much as I enjoy watching him,” and that is no false statement, not with how beautiful and soft and sweet this mortal absolutely is, “what does he have to do with us?”

Their Father breathes in sharply, “the matter is…complicated. What I want you to do is bring him here before me. I wish to finally see him with my own eyes.”

All three of his sons straighten, yell out denials of such a thing.

“It would kill him!” Damian raises a fist.

“Ya know a mortal can’t take alla this,” Jay waves a hand in B’s general direction.

“It would be kinder to end him with one shot,” Dick’s tone is flat, but he unconsciously positions his body between the viewing vessel and his great, powerful Father.

And Bruce, under the angry eyes of his sons, looks away. “It’s true he is mortal, but… he is only half.“

And now the boy’s ethereal beauty, softly glowing aura, the very subtle allure is answered when his sons look back, and their want for him doubles.

(A halfling. A mixture of man and God that could be a spectrum of delectable creatures. Most were brought to the Amazons for safe keeping, as the eventual maturation into their power as a divine event would surely give them away to mortals and other less ethical Gods. In a word, a truly earth-shattering awakening.) 

“This is why I can only entrust what must be done to the three of you.” Bruce looks between them at his long-missing son, long separated from him, and back to his beautiful Godlings. He pulls at the strings he knows are connected, “Only another God can bring him into his power so he is strong enough to stand before me. But, he is…unique. A single God cannot do it alone, but the three of you together. You, my sons, may be strong enough to awaken him. As it is, I fear another could come upon him first…and possibly takes him for themselves.”

As he predicted, Jason’s eyes narrow, a deceptively casual flip of his fine suit coat. Damian’s mouth raises in an over my bleeding corpse sneer, hand hovering over his sheathed weapon. And Dick arches a brow at their Father, arms crossed over his bare chest. While he absolutely sees through his Father’s ploy, he can’t help the throb in his veins to hunt, catch, keep when he thinks about any of his fellow Gods or Goddesses coming upon this apparent halfling before they do.  

“All right, all right,” Jay flips a half-assed salute, “we getcha, B. Ain’t gotta be a manipulative asshole ‘bout it.”

Dick snickers because well, it isn’t a lie.

Their great Father shrugs a shoulder, “I’m giving you the evidence you need to understand how important this is, Jason. This halfling is…special. Even I do not know what power he may bring forth once it is his time to awaken. The water itself will show no further future for him,” and an arm gestures to the view of the mortal. 

All three of his sons noticeably perk. Nothing like a good mystery to reel them in.

**

It’s a totally normal, sane day. 

And you know what? That’s nice once and a while.

With the tips he got yesterday, he’s going to be able to make his rent on time and being, you know, not homeless really is a thing worth celebrating.

Steph hands him the next order, and the two of them move around one another behind the counter in that comfortable way when you work so well with someone, it’s like the two of you share a brain. 

When it gets busy in the evening close to closing time, they get a nice little rush of people to close out the night.

They’ve got ten minutes, but most the machines at καφές (or ka-feys) are already cleaned and ready for tomorrow morning’s shift. Steph is whistling behind the counter while she counts out the tip jar, smoothing out wrinkled bills and cashing out the change for more dollars.

“It never fails,” she bemoans while he wipes down the back counters, “we make bank any time you are front and center, Timmers.”

His face gets pink where she can’t see and he scoffs for appearances, “people like seeing you more than they like seeing me, you know.”

“The bouncy, energetic vibe doesn’t always do the trick. Apparently the boy-next-door Hallmark type really does.”

He turns, clearly offended here because he works out when he can, was a gymnast in high school and everything!

He’s not a Hallmark throwback, fuck you very much.

“This is why I hate you.”

“Lies. You love me,” she makes kissy noises while he rings out the bleach rag and carries the bucket back to empty in the kitchen sink. 

Toss of the day rag in the dirty bin, wash up a few remaining dishes while he hums to himself, stoked about having enough in tips to splurge for a pizza with some left to go into savings for the someday when he can go back and finish college.

He thinks about his lonely little apartment buried in a tenement building a few blocks away in the infamous big city. Just one more sad story in a building of sad stories trying to make the next day count. 

If anyone had asked him five years ago where he’d be on his twenty-first birthday, this probably wouldn’t have been the answer.

The bell chimes with incoming, and he groans to himself as he’s on way through the swinging door, wondering which machine he’s going to have to dirty up to make whatever this asshole–

(The three men at his counter immediately zoom in on him, three sets of incredible eyes make him pause a moment, and luckily not melt into a proverbial puddle on the floor because this trio of man sandwich? Are the most breathtaking men he’s ever seen outside of a magazine, movie, or tasteful porn. He finds his heart picking up, beating harder in his chest, his face getting warm, his mouth watering when a quick mental flash of clothes on his bedroom floor is just the birthday gift he’s been waiting for.)

-wants.

Tim puts on his best how can I help you smile with his pulse thudding dully in the back of his mouth.

“Welcome to καφές,” and Steph totally appears magically by his side, like her inner wingwoman instincts called, staring at the buffet in front of them. “What can we make for you?”

**

Jason, Damian, and Dick.

This feels like a joke somehow.

It’s a joke because all three of these god-tier hotties seem to be…flirty? Kind of super obviously?

Steph sighs as she makes the Americano, watches Tim over her shoulder as he rings up the customers, and the one with the smooth accent literally puts a $100 bill in the tip jar.

In the tip jar

Without looking away from Tim.

The younger one has attitude for days, but he’s putting on the charm when he asks for Tim’s name (c’mon, we have name tags) in a low purr, and what would Timothy suggest for someone who likes light and sweet, hands on the counter close to Tim’s in a perfectly casual way.

The leaner one, who has an ass that could be considered out-of-this-world-hot, literally puts a hand on Tim’s, nodding with attentive eyes while Tim gives them the specials of the day (for the third time), and Steph comes very close to burning the shit out of herself while making his latte.

(They are so obvious. Tim what are you even doing right now? Why, whyyy isn’t her best friend telepathy working RIGHT. NOW?!)

They’re from out-of-town, on some business, and know nothing of the sights. Would he happen to be from Gotham? Could he suggest a nice hotel where they might get accommodations?

It’s right then. Right. Then.

She has to do something.

Because they? Are best friends. And she is invested as hell getting him laid. 

(After that awful break-up with Conner last year, he hasn’t gotten back on the proverbial horse. And this? Is his opportunity of a literal lifetime.)

“Tim! Could you help me just a minute–“ is sweet and soft, her smile warm and welcoming. “If you guys wouldn’t mind having a seat over there, Tim can bring your drinks in a jiffy!”

The looks are absolutely sinful and even her sweet best should be picking up on the UST less than a foot away from him.  She bites the inside of her cheek at how pink his face is when their customers finally take a few steps away from the counter.

She pulls him back around the set-up to the sinks by one wrist, almost hopping up and down with excitement.

“Wh-what did you need help with? Did the espresso machine go down again?”

“Are you fricking kidding me right now?” She whispers furiously, “Tim. Timmy. Honey. Sweet Summer Child. You are going to listen up and do exactly as I say.”

Now he’s rolling his eyes because something is definitely coming that he isn’t going to like.

“You are going to take out their drinks, and tell them you know a perfectly nice hotel not far from here. If they seem interested, you’re going to tell them you’d be happy to give them directions or maybe show them where. Le Grande is only a few blocks away, and you might have a chance to be the jelly in that sandwich.”

“Are you serious?” He deadpans. “They’re just…being nice. It’s late, they want coffee,” he shrugs awkwardly, ��you know. Just really friendly people?”

“This is Gotham,” she deadpans back, “there are no friendly people. But they? Are so into you. Take their drinks, tell them you know where they can stay the night, a place with a nice bar and good reputation. If they invite you to have some birthday drinks with them, then, for the love of God, Tim, say yes. Maybe if you get a few in you, they’ll invite you to their room for a game of hide the salami. If they do, you’d better come back with stories for days.”

“I love you, but you make me crazy,” and he walks around to finish up the drinks, shaking his head with a grin. “C’mon, like I would even show up on their radar? I’m betting CEOs or Hollywood kept husbands.”

And now the game has begun. Steph goes around behind him to clean-up the mess. “Tallest is an underwear model. I’ll accept nothing less, not with an ass like that.”

“Unless they’re in porn,” he comes back with a lowered voice, chancing a glance over his shoulder to find the three beautiful men looking back at him from the only table still with chairs on the ground. 

“I can see it,” she returns with a laugh, “I mean. They are off the charts.” But she gives him the side-eye, bites down when he is completely gone.

And Tim doesn’t answer, can’t for the way his breath is literally taken away. His crazily eidetic memory spits out Damian when their eyes meet from across the mostly closed shop, Jason and Dick are talking low, glancing at him with flirty, interested smiles, but Damian hasn’t looked away, those green eyes incredibly intense. 

Like picturing someone with their clothes off, tied to his bed, third orgasm ruined, and the next one carefully planned out for the execution, kind of intense.

Damian licks his lips, making it obvious, while those eyes take a slow sweep down his body, and Tim can’t help the abrupt strike of heat that shivers up his spine. 

**

“He is more beautiful in person,” Dick says low in the old language. “Father was right to send us.”

Jason glances at their older brother, sitting back in the rickety chair with deceptive ease, the very picture of beg me to fuck you. For the last ten minutes, he’s been picturing that cute little barista panting under him, eyes dazed and desperate in the same breath. 

“Kinda begs the question howz he been able ta live with mortals like this. Someone oughta found ‘im out by now.”

Without looking away, catching the curve of cheek go pink with his attention, Damian smirks behind his hands. “Father said twenty-one years. Perhaps he was be-spelled as an infant. That would explain why he was forced to stay here with mortals rather than live among other halflings sired by Gods.” 

And in their world, curses are more common than one would think.

“If the spell had an anchor date, no one would notice him until the duration.”

“’S already hard ta take m’ eye off’n him,” Jay admits low, rumbling deeply in his chest, “gonna be soon if he ain’t already there, ya feel me, boys?”

Dick hums an affirmative, eyes narrow on their prey.

“Should we discuss an actual plan to bring him into his power?” Because Damian is already salivating for the man moving behind the counter.

Initially, Damian had been against father’s wishes. He was in no way prepared for the first glance in the waters, only slightly less enthralled now that he’s been in the mortal’s presence. His soothing nature, his song-like voice, the pink of his lips, the deep darkness of his eyes, the radiance and calm Damian felt immediately soothes something desperately angry that has always animated him as the God of War. 

In that moment, not having this man is unacceptable. He has every intention of joining Richard and Jason in bed with this Tim, aiding them in pleasuring this man over and over and over. The need is compounded after facing Tim’s easy smile and soft laughter. Damian finds himself hungry, arousal burning him from within, replacing the fire of his rage with something more primal. He immediately imagines that softly smiling face to be twisted with unbearable pleasure, bare and beautiful with his thighs over Damian’s shoulders, voice hoarse from moaning, crying, begging. 

All that in his mind’s eye while watching Tim’s moving mouth, imaging how he would taste. 

Dick’s mouth quirks when he catches the very intense vibe his youngest brother is setting off, sees their important assignment get adorably flustered. The other mortal behind the counter is talking with flailing hands and easy to read lips, his senses reach out with the wind to catch as much of their conversation as possible, gathering information on their prey. 

He smirks when the female mortal seems to be on their side. The hunt won’t be as difficult as he’d first imagined when he had answered their Father’s call. 

Jay laughs at their younger brother, “thought that one was obvious from how hard yer cock is in yer pants, Demon.”

The God of War doesn’t bother to look away from their eventual conquest, “tt. Crude as usual. Unlike you, I do not usually have a taste for mortals. He is the first I’ve come across to elicit this…reaction.”

Dick smirks when the female rightfully compliments his ass, tuning back into the conversation while he subtly watches their assignment come back around the bar and work the machines. He’s already formulating a plan, not counting on their individual power to simply overtake Tim with eye contact. Commands might not work either, but they would need to test it on him to know for sure. Jason’s usual seduction didn’t make Tim speechless with desire, Damian’s intimidating aura didn’t terrorize him or incite him to violence, and Dick’s mostly-feral predator vibe didn’t trigger Tim’s fight or flight. Come to think of it, their usual effect on mortals didn’t seem to happen to Tim at all. 

“Ta be honest…halflings like him,” Jay hitches a thumb in the direction of their prey, “are at least prepared fer what’s ta come, see, ‘cause most halflings are on Paradise Island with the Amazons. Gods n’ Goddesses can find ‘em there, n’ the Amazons keep ‘im all safe. ain’t like that until after a full God brings ‘im ta power. This?” and Jay gives a sweep of one hand to encompass everything, them, the mortal world, the coffee shop. “Well, this ain’t ‘xactly the precedent.”

“Surely, since he is still technically mortal, he is...fragile. How can we take him without killing him before his power manifests?”

Dick’s eyes narrow, “simple. He already has an aura of a godling. It’s only getting stronger, and will be more so as long as we are close. By the time he’s ready, he’ll be strong enough to take us.”

“I feel that,” Jason smirks a lil, crossing his ankle over his knee, chair facing toward the pretty thing just waiting fer ‘em. “He’s further along than any I ever felt not pantin’ under a God.”

Dami shifts slightly, rolls his shoulders back. “You say this as though he is ...different, Jason.”

“Come offa it, Dames. Why else would the big man hisself call alla us fer one halfling, eh? Like that ain’t so far under his usual, yeah? I’m thinkin’ this pretty boy might be Daddy’s dirty lil secret.”

Damian straightens, finally taking his eyes off their conquest to glare at his half-brother, “you believe our Father has lain with a mortal and born another child? This man?”

Jay shrugs a careless shoulder, “Only explanation as ta why he asked alla us ta be in on the deal. Way it’s s’pposed ta go, ya only need one God ‘er Goddess ta bring a halfling. So, why’s B called in the big guns unless he’s somethin’ more? C’mon, Demon. Unique my ass.” His forefinger makes a circle around their table, putting the bigger question out there.

“If he is half blood of our Father,” Dami’s voice goes low and thick, thoughts churning dark behind his eyes, “then taking him to bed–“

Jason laughs out loud again, eyes glittering in the overhead lights, flecks of jade in a sea of blue. “–is gonna be the fuck of yer immortal life, Baby. Anyone with ‘im is gonna ride ‘im like an animal ‘till he screamin’ an’ all that power is gonna fill ‘im right on up like a cup runnin’ over.”

It’s very obvious when Damian’s eyes dilate, slide back to their pending conquest.

Dick looks over at his middle brother with a frown, “don’t count your chickens, Little Wing. The hunt isn’t over.” He turns back to their prey, “we have him in our sites, but we have to actually catch him.”

Jason clicks his tongue, “I got it on good authority we can convince ‘im. I mean, ya lookit us lately? Mortals are all over me on any standard day.”

And, it’s not a lie. Of the three of them, Jason directly interacts with mortals the most. Whether in the Underworld overseeing punishment, or in his high-end nightclub in Los Angeles, Jason lives among mortals with Father’s blessing (as long as the Underworld is kept closed and the guilty submit to justice). 

“Well, we gave him a backstory, so the next step is having a den to secure him. Jay, that female mentioned Le Grande. Sound familiar?“

“Oh yeah, it does. No worries, Big Wing, I’m onnit,” and a salacious grin the working barista happens to catch. 

While Jason Todd now lives in the City of Angels, Gotham was always his first stomping ground. Whenever he wants a vacation from his nightclub or the hell loop management he’s got going on down below, he comes back to Gotham to live a little in the old style. He pulls a phone from his inner jacket pocket, makes a quick call, his voice low and hypnotic, watching as the female puts all their drinks on a small tray for the halfling to carry to them. 

He hangs up when the Penthouse is on the way to being prepared, any time Mr. Todd, and a slow smirk slides over his face while he imagines that pretty boy ready ta be debauched in all right ways, laid out against blood-red sheet in a very impressive bed, that pink mouth open and panting their names like a prayer.

(Fuck, he’s getting more powerful. We ain’t gonna have much time. He and Dickie share a side eye while their Dames gets caught further under this boy’s spell. Fer a first mortal, their lil murder muffin picked one hell of a time ta get a taste.)

“No worries, boys. Nest is gonna be swanky as fuck ‘cause I got standards n’ all.”

“I’m more concerned about whether it’s safe, Jay. I don’t want anyone else finding him for a while, at least not until he is able to go before Father.” Dick subtly watches their prey, keeping tabs on the beauty coming so close to his time. The faint power humming like an aura is a drug to any full God in the area.

“We can make him agreeable enough to keep others from finding him.” Damian waves off, unconcerned. “Once he is fully awakened, his stamina will increase exponentially. Then it is a matter of keeping him in bed long enough to acclimate accordingly.”

“Not if he’s immune to our sway over mortals, Little D.” Dick’s eyes narrow, his gaze turns shrewd, “So we are going to keep him agreeable by being on our best behavior and seduce him the right way, slow and gentle until he gives us some indication he can take…more. Everyone understand?”

The scoff from their God of War includes a roll of the eyes because this man is their spoils. Things like slow and gentle aren’t necessary when you are claiming what you’ve rightfully taken. 

Jason, however, smiles wide and white, “ya said the secret word, Dickie.”

(No one has to verify it is indeed seduce.)

“Just keep in mind. We’re here to help him, not hurt him. The sex is going to be fantastic considering how innocent he looks, but we’re also keeping him safe.” 

“The only true concern is Chaos. If any of them get a hint of him, we will indeed have a battle on our hands,” Damian idly observes, just the thought of what his Chaos Grandfather would do to this beautiful being makes his fists clench, makes fury find root in his heart where the the urge to claim what is his, theirs, grows stronger. 

Dick immediately straightens, has a second to shutter at the image of Ra’s appearing before this (their) mortal and seducing him out of his innocence, Ra’s keeping him chained to a bed with jeweled restraints, Ra’s taking advantage of his power, his body, his very essence.

Dick seethes just thinking about it.

“We’ve already found him,” Dick tries to keep his voice steady, eyes all for the boy laughing at the female’s antics, moving around the machinery with knowledgeable hands, “the plan is we keep him secure until he’s stable enough with his power to enter Father’s presence, then they won’t be cause for concern. Chaos cannot enter the Heavens. There, he will be the most safe.”

Jason and Damian both give him their attention.

“C’mon, Dickie,” is smooth in the way Jason can be, their bringer of punishments. “Ya ain’t tellin’ me alls yer thinkin’ ‘bout is keepin’ that lil piece safe? Wid’ an ass like that? Getting all pink just talkin’ the talk?”

Damian hums softly, “he will be exquisite.”

“Like I already said,” Dick smiles widely when Tim finally picks up the tray with a last few words to his co-worker who is cleaning the machines they just used. “The sex is going to be fantastic.”

 **

The three hottest men on the planet have unfairly low standards, or he’s being fed a line. Tim can’t really decide which.

Steph was just telling him to take them to a hotel in hopes they wanted him to come up for a drink. 

And that is literally happening here.

Right in his face.

After handing out their drinks, Jason’s low drawl (and God what that is doing to Tim’s brainpan should be considered a crime here) casually name drops the most expensive hotel in Gotham, just like so Timmy, we jus’ godda nice room there. It ain’t far, but ya could take us th’ easy way. Maybe come up fer a drink after yer shift?

“We would absolutely love to have a drink with you, Tim. A thank-you for staying open long enough to give us a place to orient ourselves in a new city.”

“I agree with Richard. We owe you quite a debt, don’t we? It is only polite we…compensate you for the inconvenience, yes?”

He knows his face is pink with what is absolutely nothing less than an invitation to a foursome with three gorgeous men he has a hard time looking away from. 

Their eyes feel like hands moving down his body, under his clothes, and in a crazy kind of way, he’s not having paranoid thoughts of kidnapping and human trafficking that could possibly explain why these men wanted ordinary, every-day, boy-next-door him.

His hand unconsciously tightens around the tray he’s holding by his side, “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think this-“ he makes a circular motion with his free hand, “is going to happen. You guys are, ah, a little above my level, and not in a bad way. The flirting is…nice. It’s been a while okay, and I’m weak, but whatever. Anyway, Le Grande isn’t far, so not hard to find, and I’m sure anyone would be happy with some of that um…compensation.  So, please enjoy your drinks and have a good night,” he gives him his professional, glad to help you smile, turns on his heel, and walks away without a backward glance.

(Even if he’s mentally facepalming himself to Mars the whole way.)

**

Steph is beyond disappointed. She’s literally radiating some kind of what the fuck are you thinking energy while they finish up with the machines, doors now securely locked, main lights out, and the night is finally over.

Their last customers took their drinks with a disappointed air and left not long after his little speech, casting glances at the counter where he was stocking things up while Steph watched them mournfully go.

She had about five minutes of incredulous ire, but he literally lays it out for her.

“What do you think men like that want with someone like me?” 

Knowing her, she’d be picturing him naked with a collar around his neck in some rich guy’s mansion somewhere, and she relents a little because yeah, he has a pretty valid point.

The streetlights glow softly in the night as Tim waits while Steph locks the door, and they walk the usual five blocks to her building. Talking about the end of the night is taboo by now, especially when they pass the street leading to Le Grande and just keep walking.  They talk about their plans for their next two days off–

(“I have a hot date.”

“Mmhm, Dungeon and Dragons, Tim?”

“What? Hello, D&D was so last year…. It’s Warhammer, actually.”)

– and Steph bemoans his fortune one last time.

(“But like, what if-“

“I don’t think I want to speculate. If I do, then I might realize that was a bonehead move.”

“Aw, Timmy. The next time hot guys flirt, give them the benefit of the doubt. You could have at least said yes to the drink.”

“Well, I am twenty-one today.”)

He waves, waits until she’s in the building before moving deeper into the Gotham night. He’s careful about staying in the shadows with his head down to avoid notice. It’s not great here in the Narrows, but he loves his place above the old theatre even if the rent is just this side of ridiculous, especially for this part of town.

Still, it’s always a 50/50 walking home. 

The several creepy alleyways between the shop and his penthouse could house just about anything, from a robbery to a shooting to kidnapping most nights, and he hunches further in his hoodie, keeps his head low. Against his better judgment, he’s thinking about them instead of the pitiful cupcake waiting in his fridge with a candle on top and ordering a fresh pizza.

He thinks about the humor in Dick’s eyes, and the interest in Jason’s. Not to mention how…intense Damian had been. He’s helpless to wonder if those gazes would be the same if they were all in bed together…

His face is suddenly a little hot, and he firmly decides he’s totally allowed to speculate about what-if he’d legit said something like, “a drink? That would be really nice actually.”

Yeah, that would have led them to a very nice hotel room with a minibar, and maybe some making out to start.

(He might be sitting on Dick’s lap once he’s had a few drinks in him, getting hotter with each new purposeful brush of hands against him.

Pressed up behind him, Jason would tip his head back for dirty, deep kisses, pulling off his mouth with an audible sound.

“Yer birthday, izzit? Well, me n’ my boys def’nitely gotch the perfect present f’ ya.”

Damian would lean in to talk against his ear, make him shudder in their arms, “It’s easy to unwrap, Timothy. I can promise you would enjoy it.”

And if he whines when Dick bites down on his throat, then only the three hottest men he’s ever seen would be able to say for sure.)

He’s completely into the what-if and is probably why his resident-of-Gotham-fight-or-flight instinct doesn’t kick in.

Before the man with the gun ever turns around to face him, Tim can tell he’s dangerous because he’s scared. Desperate and scared are such a bad combination.

But even if the man with the gun is desperate, the small family huddled in terror have so more to lose. 

Tim's eyes go wide because his night just changed forever, and his automatic reaction is to take a half step forward, to reach out a hand, to a "don't do this, please don’t do this," rolling right out of his mouth. 

He’s helplessly looking from the gunmen to the family pinned down in this dirty alleyway leading to his place and the theatre, heart throbbing in fear for the little boy in a nice suit clutching his mother and father with tight fists.

And something in Tim firms, cements, in the immediate, abrupt belief that this is going to end in his favor. Something inherent in him knows he has control of the situation. 

The gunman’s barrel is aimed dead center. 

(A killing blow.)

"You aren’t going to do this," something in him pushes and pulls, something that makes him so sure, so fucking sure, no one in this alley is going to die tonight. (But, his knees still knock with fear and adrenaline while his brain pan works in overdrive.) 

A shudder goes through the hand holding the gun, eyes he can't really see in the dark, narrow from below the brim of a dirty hat.

"Get lost, kid.” But the guy plainly swallows, sweat beading off the side of his face, muscles tight with strain. “This isn’t any of your business." 

Tim grits his teeth, doesn’t move forward in case he sets something off. "All of us can identify you, and you aren't going to get enough shots off to kill everyone, not without being noticed, even in this neighborhood." His eyes slide back to the family when the motion of the father pulls the small, blue-eyed boy behind them, shielding him. 

You are going to go home tonight, alive and together, Tim promises the little boy with his eyes. Everything is going to be fine.

(And if he could stop it from happening to that little kid with a trembly lower lip and three-piece suit because he got to go with his parents for a night at the movies, then he damn sure isn't going to run.)

"So you?" His own voice goes deep, dark, and from somewhere past all his own fucked-up pain and trauma (his past scars buried in grief and mourning and moving forward because for fuck's sake, there was nothing to go back to) . "Aren't going to hurt anyone." 

“You seem pretty fucking cocky, you little shit.”

“Only because you know I’m right. GCPD always has patrols here, so you won’t get far.” 

The gunman sneers, his arm starting to get tired holding up the shiny automatic. 

The mother over the gunman’s shoulder has a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and wet, but the small family is subtly shuffling slowly backwards. Tim gets it. He needs to keep the attention on himself, give them time to get out of the line of fire. "The way I see it, you've got two options here." 

He slides his wallet out of his back pocket, holds it up over his shoulder between two fingers. "Take this as a door prize and run. Or, try to shoot us, potentially miss because that .38 special is a piece of crap, and have a pretty nice cell at Blackgate for the trouble. Robbery is one thing, but murder? Definitely a whole different type of crime."

The father keeps slowly hedging his family back, trying not to make sudden moves while Tim keeps his wallet waving back and forth, keeps the motion so the gunman stays trained on him. 

The tension is palpable while he waits for the gunman’s decision, the next move, the next flinch, the resounding blam as the gun goes off, his pulse thudding in the back of his mouth even while he knows everything is going to work out in their favor. 

Take the wallet and run, he keeps thinking over and over and over. Don’t look back at them. Take the wallet and run.

A huff in the night between them, and the gun barrel disappears inside a ratty coat, the gunman darting up to snatch the wallet out of Tim’s hand and hightail it the fuck out of the alley.

Once he’s gone and the echoing footsteps fade, the relief is palpable.  The father lets out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank-you,” he tells Tim gravely from across the alley. He turns to scoop up the little boy, weave an arm around his wife’s waist, and steer them back toward the theatre and into the light. 

Tim, heart thudding in his chest, turns to put his back against the rough brick and mortar. His knees feel weak with relief and adrenaline now that the obvious surge in bravery (reads as stupidity, tempting a guy with a gun and all) has left him panting and shaky.  “Sure, it’s fine. Being shot in Gotham isn’t really a big deal.”

He’s pretty sure he muttered it to himself because the small family fleeing their almost-demise doesn’t turn. But the voices from the mouth of the alley gasp in outrage.

“What almost happened?!”

Tim jerks because he didn’t think anyone else was behind him when the gunman took off. Imagine his surprise when his customers are standing there staring at him with wide eyes.

“Shot?” Jay is already striding forward, hands all over the barista to look for injuries because dammit, were they too late and someone already got at him? 

Dick has a hand on Damian’s shoulder, pushes the youngest toward the running gunman in an obvious message before joining Jay at their halfling’s side. 

He notices how big those blue eyes are with Jay’s long fingered hands pulling and tugging and touching. He catches the pink in Tim’s face when Jay’s hands finally wrap around his hips, thumbs in the niches. Their prey is in their trap now, theirs to reel even closer. All they have to do is keep him cornered and wait for the right moment to strike.

“N-no, nothing, I’m fine, really!” Tim sputters, stepping back out of grabby hands, face hot with how strong Jason’s hands are. “I mean, that’s-that’s pretty standard for Gotham, actually.”

Dick has no qualms palming the side of Tim’s face, tilting his eyes up, using just a bit of influence in his tone when he asks, “still, did he hurt you, Tim?” 

“No! No, I’m okay. Situation defused. I just had to give him incentive to leave without firing the gun.”

Dick hums, thumb moving over the cut of Tim’s jaw. “He was dangerous. Standing up to him was very brave, Tim, but you could have been seriously hurt. I’m a little worried about letting you out of my sight with guys like him running around.”

Jay’s eyebrow arches because wow, Dickie. ‘At was nice. But even if he knows the oldest is trying to push, trying to make Tim fall under his spell, become more..open...to suggestion as Gods have sway over mortals. It takes Jason a second to realize their little mortal ain’t looking all dreamy-eyed n’ dazed with Dickie’s influence. 

Means, they’ve godda play this the way Dick said from the beginning. Tricks ain’t gonna make it easy fer any of ‘em.

Not that he’s got a problem chasing when they play hard-ta-get. 

“I mean, I made it this far in life,” Tim jokes weakly, breath shuddering when Dick’s thumb feathers over his lower lip. “I don’t – why were the three of you passing over this way? I know I gave you foolproof directions earlier.”

Instead of answering, Jay wants to give it a go, lets himself pours on the voice, “Ya look shakin’ up a lil’ there, Baby. Lookit this,” wrapping his long fingers around one of Tim’s hands, thumb rubbing over the softly beating pulse in his wrist. “Yer hand’s tremblin’. Might wanna come back ta th’ hotel n’ get a drink after all, feel me? Getcha nice n’ calmed down. Ledd’us drop ya off once yer better. Make sure ya don’t run inta no more trouble. ‘Course we want ya ta be safe n’ sound, don’t we?”

With the darkness in Jay’s eyes, the possessive hold Dick has on him, Tim can barely swallow, can barely catch a breath.

Luckily, his mouth catches up before his brain has time to process the logistics of where the hell did you come from again?

“I can’t, sorry. I kind of gave up my wallet when–”

“After what you went through, it’s our treat,” Dick soothes, his other hand itching to touch skin, “consider it a birthday drink.”

The two of them give a more overt push.

Tim sucks in a breath to decline, but when Dick takes his hand, the what-if in his brain pan flares to life again, and everything feels so much like fate or destiny. Like he was meant to say yes the first time and here he is getting some kind of divine do-over.

(Does he even believe in all that shit? Probably not, just his brain trying to help him get laid is more likely the case.)

Either way, how can he say no a second time?

**

The answer. 

He doesn’t.

In less than ten minutes, he’s packed between Dick and Jason in a booth at Le Grande’s very posh digs, a place he’d probably never see in his life considering only the Gotham elite had a place in the VIP lounge.

He’s nervously wiping the condensation off his drink, trying not to think of Jason’s massive thigh pressed up against his or Dick’s hand casually on his knee on the other side. Jay has some ridiculously tall beer, and Dick is sipping on a blue drink from a martini glass. Tim has a water with lemon since, you know, his wallet was taken and he literally has no identification to prove he’s of age.

Out of the dim, Damian stalks toward them like a sleek panther stalking prey, those jade eyes zeroing in on their table. With a smirk, he slides into the other side of the booth and holds Tim’s wallet between thumb and forefinger. He places it in front of their...night’s acquisition, already eyeing the barista’s soft t-shirt and jeans, calculating how fast they can strip him of the clothes.

Tim’s mouth drops open when he opens his wallet to find money and identification still there, “h-how did you…?”

“I am very persuasive,” Damian purrs over the music, “it is a gift.” He has a moment of satisfaction, recalling the thief’s absolute terror when Damian took on his godly form, full height with spiked armor and flaming sword, glowing green eyes behind his helm, ready to strike the criminal down with one mighty blow.

“Return the wallet and never seek to harm another soul as long as you remain on this mortal coil.” Was like ground glass, the flaming blade scant inches from the criminal’s nose.

He didn’t kill the mortal, hadn’t seen the point really.

Tim’s soft smile and awed, “thank-you, Damian.” made dealing with another pesky mortal worth the trouble. “Did you call the police? Turn him in?”

“Unfortunately, he threw your wallet at me and ran. I chose not to follow.” A small lie but Damian will take Timothy’s appreciation nonetheless. “However, I believe he will refrain from petty theft from here on out. You must have made…an impression.”

He gives Jason a side-eye to make sure his brother understood.

Before Tim could ask more questions, Dick winds an arm around his shoulders and cheers. “Great job Baby Bat! You saved Timmy’s wallet!”

“Of course, it was my pleasure to assist our beloved barista.”

Tim’s face goes warmer, even without a drink.

“All right,” Jay grins down at their little halfling, “now’s ya can have a drink wid’ us, yeah? Gonna celebrate turning the big two one in style, feel me?”

“Don’t worry,” Dick soothes, “we have a place upstairs if we celebrate too hard. Have to warn you, I’m a cuddler and I sleep naked.”

Tim doesn’t know if his face can get any more red.

While their little halfling looks about ready ta bust, Jay takes advantage of the distraction, motions to the cocktail waitress making rounds. She scurries right on up to their table, squints at Tim’s ID for a few minutes and then back at him. 

Dick orders a round for the table in a tone that is mesmerizing and she assures them she’ll hurry back with their drinks.

Tim only downs three drinks that night, but the soft buzz is nice enough to take the edge off.

He learns Jason manages a nightclub, Damian is a weapons enthusiast, and Dick apparently does some kind of contract work for environmental agencies. All of it is pretty vague and none of them go into detail as to why they’re in Gotham in the first place, or where they’re originally from. Instead, they ask him numerous questions about his life and his job. His parents and family (all of them long gone. He’s got Steph and Ives now). Why he stays in one of the most dangerous cities on the planet. You know, understandable questions if not a little intense.

While he’s pleasantly sinking into the soft feeling, the three men around him don’t seem to be affected by the alcohol in the slightest but are intently listening to him talk about his life.

(College was a pipe dream. Right now, he’s just keeping afloat, squirreling away every dollar he can for the inevitable move out of Crime Alley. One day his shitty laptop will be a state of the art system. One day, he’s going to get into social work or something to help other kids like him, so another doesn’t slip through the cracks to live a partial life. He’s rambling like fuck when he tells them this, keeps going past it without noticing the look passing between the three.)

Their attention is...odd. Nice but odd.

He hasn’t felt important to anyone since Conner broke it off, breaking his heart without trying to hurt him. Theirs was just another tragedy that is his life.

Jay disappears for a moment and brings him water when he declines another drink, not wanting to walk home with stumbles, not after that situation with the gunmen could have ended horribly–

The night changes when he admits he’s never seen a room in Le Grande, never been through the doors before tonight no matter how long he’s lived in Gotham, and accepts the invite up to see the penthouse. All of it happening so easily is terribly close to what he’d imagined in his secret fantasy, that his tongue doesn’t know how to say anything other than yes.

[misty-groves]

Rewind (here we go again) Prologue

Rating : T

Summary: When Ivy Wayne wakes up in her past, she is given the chance to change things for the better. She takes it because she wants to do better this time.

Warnings: Time travel, multiple timelines, cursing,

Other: Ivy Wayne is an oc, Danny Fenton is Damian's twin

Series masterpost

When given another chance, Ivy Wayne takes it with both hands and runs. She's not unhappy with her life, but she could do better if given a re-do, as most people could. Unlike most people, she seems to get a re-do.

-------

Ivy knew this morning she was going to have a weird day. She woke up with one of those premonition headaches that mean trouble.

Then she went and got into a fight all alone, got gassed, and watched the world turn black.

She wakes up at fourteen in her room, both of her baby brothers in her bed. She's smaller than she remembers, less pain than there should be.

Odd.

Danyl is in the middle, Damian on his right. The twins are asleep in her bed, clinging to eachother and her.

They are safe.

And also apparently four.

This is weird. But she can adjust.

She needs a plan. If she can get a message to her family she can get the all out. Maybe she can speak to mother.

At this point, she can't say. But she knows her mother loves them as much as she can.

She knows that the night she faked her brother's death- her mom asked very few questions.

She needs to send them to their own rooms soon. She supposedly "babies" them far more than she's supposed to. But really, children need affection and love.

She takes another minute or so though. She basks in having both of them here again. She enjoys how warm and real they are.

She misses them at this age- after she faked Danyal's death they never saw him again. She's not even sure he got away. But he escaped their grandfather.

She looks to Damian, who has his little fist bunched up in his twins shirt. He has Bruce's nose- from before the many breaks of their father's nose.

Danyal clings to her, his long lashes rest against his cheek. He has freckles that are faint, but they are there all the same. He has a sharper nose than his twin.

She rouses them gently, whispering words of love before she sends them off. She kisses their heads and smiles softly as they sneak out.

Her boys.

Her baby brothers.

She takes a slow breath as she tries to remember what lead up to this.

There had been the morning headache she's learned is really premonition...

And then...

Ivy had been fighting a new villain before she passed out from a new gas, and then she woke up here. She'd watched the world go black- had someone yelled?

She had been alone though.

Things aren't connecting right- but she's unable to deny the warmth and swell in her heart when she sees her baby brothers so young.

She stands, stretching her arms above her head. She's sore- and her back pulls against long, thick scabs.

She wouldn't say she missed this. The whip always leaves such ugly scars.

So far, her working theory is time travel of some sort or perhaps dimension hopping. But so far it looks like she is familiar enough to not be terrifying for her.

She dresses, strapping weapons to herself as easily as she always has. Growing up with the Bat as her father and the being in the leauge has left her fond of many weapons at all times.

She has siblings to protect.

There is a knock at her door, "Ivy?"

Ivy opens the door, finding her mom. She just tilts her head, "Mother."

"Your training has been pushed forward today, join me in the training room in ten minutes."

"Yes, mother."

Talia dosen’t smile, she doesn't frown either. She just turns on her heel, satisfied with the conversation.

Ivy grabs her own katana, and sweeps down the hallway.

She goes to the kitchens to grab a small hunk of cheese and bread, eating quickly. She's always hated fighting hungry.

She makes it to the training room in time, a whole minute to spare even.

It's laughable, how easy she falls into old habits. She's careful to control her movements, maintaining the hesitancy she remembers from before. She had always been so scared to truly hurt those she loves.

She loses, of course she does, but she dosen’t fail. She lasts a goof twenty minutes before she's beaten. And she could probably win with her honest skill but she's not supposed to have that yet.

"You did better than last time." Talia says as she stares down at her daughter, a bright air around her.

"I have been training."

"It shows." Talia almost smiles, lips twitching as she removes her foot from her daughter's chest, sword falling to the side.

Ivy stands, brushing herself off easily. "I am glad it's noticeable."

Talia just stares at her. Something unreadable passes her face, a funny pinch in her elegant brows.

"You improved so much the span of three days, you doubled your standard time."

Ivy tries her best to stifle the urge to preen at that. She instead tries to figure out a better response than 'whoops'.

She stares at her mother, searching the calm face for help. She takes a slow breath, "I have been training hard?"

It was supposed to be a statement, unfortunately it comes out as a question.

"Try again. The truth this time."

Ivy sighs slowly. The truth? She couldn't say for sure what that is, but her best guess is timetravel. Though how she explains that she doesn't know.

Talia just waits.

"I don't know what caused it... but I would bet money I was sent back into time."

"That makes very little sense."

"I don't know what happened, but yesterday I was twenty and in Gotham. Today I'm fourteen and here."

Talia stares at her, looking as though she wonders if her daughter is loosing her mind. Which would be a fair sentiment.

"You're serious."

"Let's go again, I won't hold back."

"You held back?" Talia snorts.

Ivy just raises a brow. She was holding back, even if she's a little weaker now than she remembers she has far better training and instincts drilled into her mind.

Talia lunges and Ivy dodges. This time, it's quicker paced, each moving with grace and speed deadly to others.

Ivy, ducks, weaves, hits, and uses her powers. She sends bolts of her sheild energy with precision. She beats her mother, seven minutes in.

Foot on her mother's chest, sword to the woman's throat, Ivy smiles. "Do you believe me now, mother?

Talia blinks up at her, looking literally and figuratively floored. "That- is new."

Ivy backs up.

"You said you were in Gotham, was the leauge-"

"I left the leauge when you had to stop grandfather."

"Oh?"

"We need to talk later. I need your help, and our intrests align nicely." Ivy says simply, putting her katana away and folding her arms.

"They do?"

"It protects the boys."

"I see." Talia brushes her self off.

Ivy just watches. She has half of several plans. With a little more time, she'll have solid plans. With a little more time, she'll get them all out.

"Perhaps in a few days we can have tea to discuss." Talia offers.

"If you have time, I would love that."

-------

A week passes before Ivy and Talia are able to truly get away far enough to talk. Really talk.

They settle in a secluded part of Talia's wing, tea steaming on the table.

"You're from the future. "

"A version of it. I need your help to straighten things out."

"How?"

"Grandfather will go too far, he gets to the point he wants Danyal dead and you too. He wants to take all weakness from Damian."

"Oh. Is that so?"

"You lost Danyal in my time. I think you know where I'm going with this."

"Would it work?"

"Of course it would. Dad is protective- and I think we both know I will stop at nothing to protect my brothers."

"I'm not sure-"

"You are no coward, mother. You are not weak or stupid. If you do as I suggest you can avoid the danger to your son's, and gain power."

"Are you so sure you would risk staging a coup? You are far improved, but you are still young."

"I will help plan, but any mutiny is your prerogative. But your children will be safer with you in power and them in Gotham."

"I don’t like that idea of you three so far."

"I don't like the idea of being backed into attending Danyal's funeral. Again."

"Azizi." Talia says, "Tell me, does Bruce raise my boys well?"

"Bruce loves his sons. They're better off living with dad full time, but if you take power and initiative he will be happy to co parent."

"And are you okay to go back?"

"Mother, Gotham is my home."

Talia sighs slowly, "Let me think."

"I will."

"You're very brave, my little moon."

Ivy smiles softly, unrestrained as she does. Her voice is soft, "Thank you, mother."

"You know I could inform father about this, your goading and your knowledge. You should know that conspiracy has a heavy price."

"I do."

"And you took the risk."

"It's for my family, I'll take any risk."

"I'll do it. But it will take time."

"Thank you." Ivy says.

She means it too. She'd expected a harder sell.

Talia just watches her, the woman's green eyes, much too like Damian's. She seems to be searching for something- but Ivy dosen’t know what.

-------

Bruce is surprised to get another letter so soon, usually he only gets letters from his daughter every four months. He just got one last week, so the letter is strange.

Dear dad,

I have a lot to explain, first of all you have two sons mother has kept hidden. They are twins, Danyal and Damian.

Second, mother is working on taking control of the leauge. Which is long over due if I do say so myself, and I do.

Thirdly, my brothers and I will be coming home at a date mother provides later. She needs to focus on the takeover and we will be safer at the manor.

Lastly, I miss you and please tell the others I love and miss them. It has been hard to he far away from you. I have had to make changes to survive in the leauge, and sometimes wonder if you could still accept me.

Anyway, I don’t know when I'll be home but I will be. Mom will tell you more. I'm sorry to dump this all on you, but I wanted to prepare you.

The twins are five, and highly trained for their age. They have been trained by the leaige to be heirs for the last three years and are used to a high station.

I have been their gaurd since I got here, and I think you'll love them. They aren't super well socializedbut they are kind.

Damian has green eyes and loves animals. He's a literal genius who picks things very quickly and is very protective of those he loves. He dosen’t trust easily, and he seems to enjoy art when he can do it.

His favorite colors are green and black, he loves swords, and he would love to have a diagram of any animals. If you're setting up his room, he wants his bed to allow him to see all entrances.

Danyal loves the stars, so much that I've taken time to teach him constellations and their stories. He's a little more trusting and a little softer. He has asked to learn more about space, but I think the books at home will help.

His favorite colors are blue and grey, he loves mythology, and would love to have glow in the dark stars. If you're setting up his room, he likes to have a nest of sorts in the closet to feel safe.

They have been raised only in violence, and taught that killing is not only okay but expected. They have killed, but they don't know better. I have done my best but you know as well as I do that nothing I do will stop what they've been taught. So I've taught them not to be cruel with it. Which is not necessarily enough but better than nothing.

I know this is a lot of information and I'm sorry, I also wish I had more. I'll see you as soon as I can, I love you.

Lots of love,

Ivy

Bruce just stares for a moment or two. The words swim in his mind, knowledge almost choking him with the weight of it.

His baby girl is coming home.

He has twin boys he's never heard of, raised in the leauge. The young children have killed.

His daughter has been in the leauge for two years now, and has possibly killed. She's a gaudd to the heir(s?) Of Ra's.

He can't feel disappointment in the children, circumstances allowed little choice and she has taught them not to be cruel. Which is better than anyone else has done.

He can teach the boys, and he can let his daughter relearn kindness.

He can't believe Talia, hiding all of this. Raising children to kill. Likely forcing his sweet girl to kill, so she survives.

He will not begrudge his daughter, he knows how ruthless the leauge is. It's what she chooses when she's home that will determine things.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred asks.

"I have twin boys. And their coming home with Ivy eventually." Bruce turns with wide eyes.

"Oh, dear. I suppose I have rooms to prepare."

"Ivy left information for that." Bruce says, holding out the letter with trembling hands.

"Very good, thank you." Alfred says as he takes it gently in his gloved fiingers.

Bruce let's go with a frown. "Alfred... she's coming home."

"I know."

"Talia hid children from me."

"She did." Alfred says softly. "But you're going to meet them."

--------

Next

[influenzalake]

yandere Damian Wayne going through puberty headcanons (suggestive themes)

touch starved dami centric

y/n reader , they/them pronouns

MINORS DNI

- - -

Both of Damian's parents were very emotionally unavailable and did not show him a lot of physical affection. Most people at all stages of his life would never gamble enough to try to get close enough to Damian much less try and hug him or something. When Damian hits puberty it starts catching up to him. He gets these feelings, these desires. It hits him like a truck. 

- He thinks back into his early life and is bitter than he was never given the love he feels he deserves. He can't help but think of his parents. They are the closest thing to an intimate relationship around him. 

- He becomes unhealthily interested in bodies. How they look and why they look like that. How different they can all be.  

- He thinks of his father. His father's great stature. His muscled body. How his blood flows through his own veins. His father has always been his idol, but as he steps through the landmine of puberty he praises his mother's evilness for a minute. He will someday look like Bruce. He thinks of himself at his prime and what he may finally be able to enjoy. Love. Intimacy. Happiness. 

- He thinks of his mother and... and her body. He is horrified by these thoughts. Damian tries to tackle this logically. He is thinking of his mother because of his hormones and this is the closest female person he has,   or had. 

- Damian's mother was beautiful. Sensual and knew how to use it. He always remembers her... her bosom, being open in some way. Tactically it is a great strategy for when she crossed paths with men who could be weak to such visuals. 

- WEAK. This is how Damian views himself. But his new needs are never met and it is eating him from the inside out. 

- He 100% turns into a breast man whether he likes it, (or chooses to acknowledge it), or not. 

- When he meets Y/n these feelings finally have something to attach to. He projects all of his desires and fantasies immediately. 

- He wants to adorn them in the finest clothes. He wants to sketch and draw them and only them. He is obsessed with this fine creature. 

- His body is changing too, and he assumes Y/n will have similar weaknesses to him.

- This boy is constantly finding excuses to wear clothes tighter than usual. He is never caught in an unflattering outfit, that is when he wears clothing at all. Sometimes going shirtless is the best bet.  He's here to play hardball. 

- As time passes he is starting to be more accepting and understanding of this process. It is also much easier when he has Y/n to be his focus. He also starts to fall more into a yandere view of things. Y/n is going through the same thing right? They should be experiencing the same torment,,, right   ?

- Damian is more curious than ever. He wants to know what Y/n is feeling, thinking, dreaming of. After all, it is only natural. Damian would be doing a favor by granting Y/n his patience and being there for them when they... need him. 

- He knows what the human body looks like, of course he does!    But, he has never been able to - enjoy one. He wants to take his time. He wants to touch. To feel. He wants to explore. He wants to do this all with Y/n. He wants to share this once in a lifetime experience with them. 

- Damian's family has started to notice he is acting different. Alfred was the first to figure it out, no surprise there. Bruce has his sneaking suspicions, but is avoiding the awkward topic. Dick noticed, asked Alfred, and it overjoyed about his lil bat's new crush. Tim and Jason could really care less, though this is another opportunity to tease Damian. 

- Damian will deny and deny until his second death. No way in red hell he would be caught in this mess. With some internal struggle, Damian sees how this can be used to his advantage. He has a family full of older and experienced males that have all gone through this before. 

- Forgoing his pride, he asks for advice. 

- This changes his views even more. He will not admit this, but he now has a new outlook on what his future could really be. He understands his feelings more and finds he also has new ones. 

- Damian finds himself craving the same intimacy, but in other forms. The mundane and domestic become exciting, something he looks forward to. 

- To share a kiss every hello and goodbye, sharing secrets and enduring through time together, to have Y/n's full attention and trust

- He feels he has passed a threshold. He feels he can respect himself and these feelings more.  He still has his confusing moments sure, but Damian feels like he just has more life in him.

- This young man has blossomed into a hopeless and sickened romantic.  

[lfthinkerwrites]

Flash Forward: A Moot Point

The second of the flash forwards: Stephanie gets into an argument with Bruce over a promise she made, and some deep resentments start to emerge. Unfortunately, Jason already rendered the argument moot, but they don't know that.

"I want to train her."

There was silence in the Batcave. Damian was the first to break it. "Let me see if I understand this right: Arkham City is due to open within weeks. Strange is, as we speak, consolidating power in Gotham with his TYGER guards. Nigma and Young are off the board and we still have no idea what Nigma did with the evidence from Arkham. Machin has declared open war on the City. And you want to waste valuable time and resources babysitting an amateur?"

Stephanie nodded. "Yes."

Bruce's reaction was instant. "Absolutely not. End of discussion."

Stephanie however, would not be denied. "I think we do need to discuss this, actually. Bruce, she's already put on a costume twice-"

"And the second time, she almost got you killed!" Tim shouted. "You took a bullet for her and she ditched you to go running off with Jason!"

"Jason took her, Tim!" Stephanie shouted back.

"That's not the point!" Tim sighed. "Look, Steph, I get that you care about this kid, but this is a really, really bad idea. Nigma asked you to protect her, not to make her one of us!"

"This is the best way to protect her, though!" she insisted. "I'm not saying we should bring her out on patrol, but what else can I do? We can't watch her 24/7! She needs to be able to protect herself!" A shadow passed over her face. "Her father can't look after her now. We can't turn our backs on her."

"Touching," Damian drawled. "There's just one problem with that though: say you do train her. What's she going to do with that training?" Stephanie swallowed. "You said yourself, Brown, that she's already put on a costume twice. What will she do if she actually knows how to fight? Is she going to behave herself and stay home, or is she going to go out and get revenge on the people who tried to kill her father?"

"If she's capable of doing that, Damian, then she's going to do it whether I train her or not! Maybe if I'm with her, I can help through her feelings, like how Tim and Cass helped me-"

"Ellen is not in the same situation you were in Stephanie," Bruce interrupted. "It's a much more dangerous world than when you started. You can't bring your feelings about your past into this-"

"No," Stephanie cut him off with a hiss. "I'm not going to take that from you. You are the last person who should talk to me about projection!"

Her words hung heavy in the air before Bruce spoke again. "I realize that," he said. "But that's why I'm saying this to you now. I don't want you to make the same mistake I made."

"Which mistake?" she questioned. "The one you made with me or the one you made with Edward?"

[can-of-pringles]

Delphine Burnett (Castlevania OC)

BASIC INFORMATION

Name: Delphine [DEHL-FEEN] Burnett [BUR-NET]

Nicknames/Alias: Delphi

Gender: She would call herself genderfluid by today's standards. She feels like a woman fairly often however likes to explore outside the binary through her werewolf side. As in her words would probably be something like "I can't deny how appearing as a woman yet also being a beast go hand in hand for me." or something like that

Pronouns: she/he

Gender Role: Fairly androgynous but doesn't mind appearing more feminine from time to time.

Sexual Orientation: Panromantic grey-ace.

Age: 21 (At the start of Castlevania S1)

Birthday: 1455.

Birth Place: Wallachia.

Nationality: Wallachian(?)

Relationship Status: Married.

Language Spoken and Native Language: English, Romanian.

Skills/Talents: Excellent hunter, can fight both in wolf form and with a dagger. Good at tracking. Sewing. Is an alright cook.

Hobbies: Reading.

Read more at her Toyhouse

Backstory below + bonus ref sheet

Backstory: Delphine Burnett was born in 1455, and around the age of four or five, her parents, Crina and Damian, found out she was a werewolf because one night she ran out of the house to see the stars one last time before bed. There she was standing in front of a full bright moon. Her skin starts to feel itchy deep down and before she knows it she's transformed.

Thankfully, handling a werewolf pup is much easier than a full-grown one. After a while, she turned back and her parents internally panicked. They don't hate her, but to them, the werewolf trait in the family is something shameful, as well as they fear people hurting her for it. So that's why they try to get her to hide it. When that doesn't work, they go to leave her with her maternal grandmother.

Crina begs Casandra (Delphine's grandmother) to take Delphine, saying that she and Damian aren't prepared to raise a werewolf. Casandra has a little experience from being in contact at times with some werewolf ancestors. So while Casandra is angry and ashamed of her daughter and son-in-law, she takes Delphine in since she thinks she'll be better off with her. That was the last time Delphine saw her parents. Delphine's parents probably tried to send some money in the beginning to help, but eventually, it stopped.

As Delphine grew up, it was just her and her grandmother. Casandra figured out more accessible clothing was what Delphine needed in order to stop ruining clothes from transforming, hence why she often wears a chiton and sandals. She could roam and explore because the grandmother had to work a lot to provide for them. Exploring lets her get a good idea of the land. She even knew about where scary Dracula's castle was.

Normally she avoided it, but then she saw a kid around her age outside playing occasionally with who appeared to be his mother. After observing from afar, she snuck into some bushes and got his attention. At first, he tried to get his mother's attention, but Delphine begged him not to and to keep her a secret. He agreed and they talked. He explained that his name was Adrian, that Dracula was his father, that his mother was a human who was a doctor taught by Dracula, and that they lived here in this forest in the castle.

Delphine started coming back to talk in secret and began to tell him more about herself. Her grandmother warned her about which people she told about her werewolf side, but after a while, she felt safe enough to tell Adrian one night and show him. Luckily, her judgment is correct and he's accepted her, even showing their similarities with his shape-shifting abilities.

They became childhood best friends. This is why later on when they're both adults, he seeks her out once he gets injured badly by Dracula. She helps him get to his hideout in the catacombs to heal. And she promises to wait for him.

After the demons become more widespread, Delphine tries to stay low, even opting to hide as a werewolf to look less inconspicuous to the demons, especially since their target is humans. 

Once Adrian is awakened by Trevor and Sypha, he joins them in stopping Dracula, but not before he tells them they need to find Delphine and ask for help.  Eventually, they find her and she agrees to join and help and that's where S1 ends and S2 begins.

-

Child Delphine reference sheet

The regular outfit is a chiton and easily removable for werewolf transformations, same for her sandals. Her alt outfit is for when she knows she won't transform and her grandmother wants her to wear something nicer.

[wesavegotham]

I wonder if this is where most of the "Dick is Damian's dad!" opinions stem from. Damian can't see his actual father as his dad, it has to be someone he's not related to by blood.

Dick and Damian have a special bond, but at no point during their time as Batman and Robin did Dick act really fatherly towards Damian. And Damian didn't want Dick to be his father, Damian was proud to be Bruce's son and he felt insecure because he hadn't really gotten to know Bruce before his "death" and was unsure if Bruce would let him stay on as Robin once they knew he was still alive.

Yes, he insulted Bruce and praised Dick when he was working together with his father, but he also insulted Dick and praised Bruce when working with Dick. That's just what Damian does. It doesn't mean he rejected being Bruce's son and wanted Dick to be his dad instead.

Damian is Bruce's son and he wants his father's love. I see nothing wrong with that. Of course he went about it completely wrong at first, but he was acting under the rules he knew. Yes, they were morally wrong, but that wasn't his fault, he was taught that securing your place by taking out your competition was not only right but worthy of praise. And Tim being all "if he wants to be a part of the family he'll have to earn it like the rest of us" was an understandable reaction considering that Damian tried to kill him, but it was also wrong. It shouldn't be treated as valid.

Did Tim have to earn his right to be his bio parents son? No. He was simply treated as such because he was and even his stepmother treated him with love.

And the other batkids do care about their biological parents too, no matter what fandom says. Dick holds his biological parents in high regard and still misses them, he just doesn't let himself be consumed by his grief like Bruce does. Originally Jason's dad was actually a decent father who turned to crime only to support his family and Jason died trying to protect his biological mother even after she betrayed him. For most of his Robin career Tim had a father and step-mother he cared about and that cared about him in return even if there were sometimes tensions between them. Stephanie might resent her father, but she doesn't see Bruce as her dad. Cass was raised to be an assassin by her father, but despite that she clearly cared for him in her own way and he for her.

In the end a child shouldn't need to earn their place in a family. Especially if they have trauma. Dick did the right thing by taking Damian under his wing and integretating Damian into the family even if it hurt Tim at first. What was Dick supposed to do? If Bruce had been in his place what was he supposed to do?

"Sorry Damian, can't stay here with me, I'm sending you back to the league of assassins or a foster family and I will deny you to get to know me because it hurts Tim's feelings, bye!"

Like...what do some people think would have been a better course of actions in that situation? Tim was 17 when Damian joined the household. I don't think it should be a controversial opinion that taking care of the 10 year child gets priority. And it's not like they didn't try to be there for Tim either, he just rejected it.

In fact making Damian "earn his place in the family" would just deepen Damian's belief that love and acceptance by his family needs to be earned through work and sacrifice and I hate every story that does that. It's such a terrible message. Damian is a child. A victim. Even if he's not a "perfect victim". He still deserves care, respect and help.

It's not his fault he wasn't born into a stable normal american family like Tim was and it shouldn't be held against him that he wants the love of his biological parents who are both still alive.

Thinking of the damian "blood son" rhetoric in fandom and I think people don't like to admit they yeah he does think he's better than other people but many times it is bc his training or his feats, he constantly makes allusions to his training, bc then they can't just say "oh he's a spoiled kid who just got everything handed to him for being bruces/ras son/grandson " but like... he clearly worked hard for what he has (including a place in the batfam)

[redflagshipwriter]

Batmom Cass preview post for Colin!!

This is 600 words as a thank-you for starting my fund to replace my laptop! I am so so appreciative. There's actually... no Cass in this particular section, but I thought it was probably best to share the next scene. Chapter 8: post reveal (about ten minutes after heaving his guts on very expensive carpet)

Danny would prefer to strike that unfortunate incident from the record and his memory. As soon as he figured out how to cause selective brain damage, it was all over for the mortifying ordeal of being perceived in weakness. He swung his legs miserably over the bathroom counter’s edge and pretended very hard that he was alone in Amity Park where no one noticed or cared if he threw up. 

He was still in the room where Cass had hustled him to clean off his face and see if there would be an encore. He’d had to make a tactical retreat away from the toilet to higher ground when big fussy bats flapped in after him. Presumably they’d learnt that he threw up when Cass went to get whatever supplies one needed to clean partially digested yogurt off antique carpet. Ancestral carpet. Probably made of some nutty rich person material like, uh, hair from the manes of prize-winning horses.

Somehow, Danny cringed even harder. He needed brain damage immediately, please.

“And you’re certain that you don’t need to visit a medical facility?” 

Batman brooded in the literal way that a chicken brooded. Danny tightened his grip on the counter just that little bit more so that no one could drag him into a nest and sit on him. “Wouldn’t do any good,” he said shortly. It came out a little too mean. He tried to correct his voice to be nicer. “Thanks. Tho.” Danny cleared his throat.

“Tt.” Damian expelled air against his front teeth and glowered at his father. “He looks terrible. You cannot believe this.”

Wait, what? Danny blinked down at Uncle Damian, betrayed. “I look terrible?” he echoed. What the hell? Criticism, from Dames?

Bruce got a pinched look. “Danny, honey, you have been looking a little…” He trailed off. “Unwell.”

‘That would be the lack of ectoplasm,’ Danny thought snidely. He kept his mouth firmly shut and turned away. Unfortunately, he caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror and winced at it. He did look pretty wan and thin. It was hard to put a finger on what was off about his appearance, but it was sort of… deathly.

He was putting on weight again thanks to Alfred and Damian’s monitoring of his diet, but it was just a fact that he wasn’t really suited to this environment. Too human to survive in the big Green yonder, too undead to get by on bread and roast beef alone.

‘...How does Jason do it? An aura like that is not sustained by creme anglaise and goulash. He has to have access to ecto somewhere.’ 

Danny really should have wondered that before. Jason had to be like, the most liminal human being around who wasn’t a halfa. He definitely needed ecto. Where was he getting it? Danny hadn’t really consciously thought about it, but… He felt himself tinge a little green again.

‘Was I feeding off of his ambient ectoplasm when he was here yesterday?’

His mouth filled his saliva that still tasted both sour and like toothpaste. Danny swallowed it with effort. He did not think of how good ecto tasted after you’d been denied and drained. He did not think about the sense memory of how living ecto would indent and then give with a juicy pop around his teeth, splash the inside of his mouth-

Danny buried his face in his hands and tried not to look like he was going to throw up again. Because he was not going to do that. He was not going to eat Jason and he was not going to throw up.

[bluetooththereptile]

Someone asked: Could you do a headcanon of a Yandere Batfamily with platonic s/o who’s Bruce’s biological son and Damian’s younger brother and the s/o wants nothing to do with them?

Alright so the new son comes into the family and all of the attention is on him…

At first, everyone was happy that a new member was added to the family, a new sibling for Damian and a new person for the family’s obsession to be directed at. At least Bruce’s S/O is kind of relieved that he’s not going to spend most of his time with them because he was getting suffocating! And it did work, the child had distracted everyone, and the S/O could breathe for a few months.

But after a few months, when the boy was completely settled in the family Bruce was back to pull on the strings of his S/O, more passionate and more…expecting than before. Bruce now had two biological sons and S/O other had to have a good relationship with them since Bruce wanted a happy family. He had noticed how his S/O would shy away or just leave to tend to their things, not wanting to spend time with the boy.

The family was always there for the boy, Damian who previously would attach himself to his father’s S/O other now never left his younger brother, Dick and Barbara would spend their time at the manor with the boy and others…well, let’s say that the boy had the good time of his life since he could have anything he wanted. But Bruce felt something was off…his S/O.

For weeks he had spent his nights with the boy in his bedroom, with his S/O’s permission of course, but he didn’t see them walk in to even say good night or something like that. They didn’t talk much in general after that, they were sad? Bruce would think and brush it off with a chuckle at the back of his mind but the detective couldn’t deny the truth, he, who once would shower his love with unconditional affection, now had left them on their own. It would be for a while, Bruce would think to himself, he would go back to them again!

But when he came back he didn’t see what he expected to see, his S/O was not as excited as he or his family was…Bruce’s image of a perfect family now was in danger. So he tried to make you both interact, some alone quality time? But the S/O couldn’t bring themselves to treat the boy like others, and it broke Bruce’s heart to hear his son call his S/O “Dad’s toy”. The boy didn’t mean anything bad, he just heard Damian call the women in the galas their father’s toys, the boy had automatically thought the S/O was one of them.

And that was enough to turn the neutral relationship into a dark one. S/O didn’t want to even meet the boy “You are his parent as well!” Bruce yelled after he had found out that his S/O didn’t want to attend the boy’s birthday party “I’m one of your toys Bruce…what do you expect me to do?” The S/O said bitterly, it was obvious that his love and his child wouldn’t get along.

Months would pass and the S/O other would still resist, no matter how many times Bruce tried to fix it…words didn’t work…he had to have the boy do something about it.

“Mommy?” The S/O was helping Alfred with his chores when they heard the boy call them but they didn’t look at him. Bruce had set a devilish plan, he had manipulated the boy into loving his S/O, and the child was obsessed with his other parent “Mommy?” The boy sniffled as he tugged gently on the S/O’s clothes, Bruce had told the boy that he has upset his other parent, that he had broken their heart and now they didn’t want to talk with him, and the boy who was brainwashed to think that the S/O was behind all of those happy memories of his after he had come to the manor was in a panic. If the S/O gave in, Bruce had killed two birds with one stone, the boy would always accept his father’s words since he thought it was from his other parent and also Bruce, the image of worried parents always worked, and also the S/O would be closer to the boy and Bruce’s family would be completed…but IF the S/O gave in. “I’m busy” they would say, the only words the boy have heard from them for months “I’m sorry! I didn’t want to upset you!” They won’t respond, but when the boy as hugs them they don’t push him away either. The process is slow, the boy would be dependent on his family and other parent, and the S/O would be tangled in more webs of their family’s obsession.

[lily-drake]

The Demon’s Queen

Chapter One:

First

Damian was a boy when Ra’s had been killed.  He remembered when the ambush was over.  He and his mother were safe in one of her personal safe houses when she bent down and looked him in the eyes.

“Damian, this will be your true test for whether or not you will be ready to take the title of the Demon’s Head.”

Damian stood tall, never breaking eye contact with his mother.  Grandfather was gone, which meant for now Talia was in charge of The League of Assassins until he was rightfully crowned. 

“Your mission is to help me take down the traitors Deathstroke and any of his followers.  I will help you, but it must be you who destroys Deathstroke.  Then and only then can you truly take over the title of my father, your grandfather, and then you can fully take the title of Son of the Bat.  Do you understand?”

Talia asked, her voice firm and void of anything that could show her true feelings on any of this.  Damian gave a curt nod,

“Yes, Mother.”

“Good.  Honor your name Damian.  Show them that al Ghuls’ show no mercy.”

And with that she vanished, leaving Damian to plan everything on his own. 

It took only a month, Deathstroke never stood a chance.  Talia only sent a few messages to Damian, giving him information from a few of her informants that Damian had little knowledge of, adding to the growing information he received from his own informats.  It was amazing how much people would tell you when you found the correct ways to make them talk.  

The fight against Deathstroke was tiring, and for many new scars to litter his body, but he wore them with pride.  They were his trophies, as they helped him to take out the filthy creature that plagued the League.  No mercy was shown, no mercy was ever allowed, especially for filth like Deathstroke.  He remembered what it was like to sink his sword through Wilson’s heart, and the smooth precision as he pulled it out.  He remembered turning to his mother, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she bowed to him and whispered,

“You are ready, My Demon.”

Instead of the “my prince” she had always used before.  He watched as all of the shadows bowed at his feet, welcoming him as their Head, their Leader, their Ruler.  

__________

Damian was only ten when that had happened, now he was 18, and in need of a partner.  Mother had helped and guided him through his first few years as the new ruler.  Helping him delegate tasks, showing him how he should deal with failures, she even took over some of his duties for him as he still needed to continue some parts of his education and training.  But as he aged, he became more confident in his role asThe Demon’s Head.  He took on more tasks, met with grandfather's old friends, formed new alliances with them that benefited both parties, carried out threats, and most importantly; he kept order in The League.

“There is a magical war in Paris.”

The head shadow from Paris, France reported.  Most of the time Damian grew bored during these meetings and would let his mind wander while still retaining all of the information given to him, but this caught his attention.

“The Miraculous have been reactivated, though it appears that one of them is being used for unknown selfish purposes.  Two others have been activated to try and stop the first.”

Damian remembered when Grandfather talked of these jewels, it was when he told him of the history of The Lazarus Pit when he was 4.  He had been able to steal both the earrings of life and the ring of destruction to make a wish of eternal life.  But they had been missing for over 100 years when the Temple of the Miraculous Guardians was mysteriously destroyed.  But they were back now.

“When were they reactivated?”

“Over three year ago.  I would have reported of it far sooner, but every time I tried to return or send a message I was halted in my attempts by an invisible force.  I discovered it was a magical force that denied people the ability to spread this information to others for reasons I have not been able to discover.  Thankfully I was able to find a strong magic user who was able to help me escape.  I assure you, they have no idea of who I was or what I was trying to accomplish.”

Damian leaned back in his throne, processing the information he was given.  Grandfather told him that as he had been exposed to Miraculous magic for so many years, he would be able to access any form of Miraculous magic he was exposed to in one way or another.  He should study this for himself, figure out his next plan of attack or if it would be even worth it in the end.  If there was a war he may need to intervene, or maybe he wouldn’t have to.  HE could let things play out and strike once they let their guard down with thoughts of victory.  First things first, he needed to go to Paris, France.

With that decided, he stood up and signaled for his informant to do the same.  Grandfather would have killed them where they stood, but Damian was not his Grandfather.  

“You did good work.  Tell anyone about this and I will know.  I need you to accompany me to Paris, I want to see for myself what is happening.”

“Yes, My Demon Head.”

__________

Damian was a shadow, he may be a king, but he was first and foremost a shadow just like the rest of his soldiers.  He blended in with the darkness, knew it by heart, the dark felt almost like a second home.  His goal here was simply a recon mission, he just needed to gather information.  But as a loud alarm sounded through the streets and the atmosphere changed, Damian had a feeling that this might be worse than anything he had planned for.

He watched, cloaked in the roof’s shade, as the entire city was frozen over.  People trapped in glaciers of ice, others fried from shocks of lightning that shot randomly from the sky, buildings destroyed by rain made of acid specific sectors.  It wasn’t a blood bath, but it certainly felt like one.  

If this was the normal level of attacks, then how was this city still standing?

Damian moved, not wanting to get stuck or caught up in the chaos.  That’s when he came across them.  A hero in a spotted leotard and a boy in a leather catsuit.  

Damian scoffed, there was no way that these were the supposed heroes.  It was clear that they were not trained, that the fact they had even made it this far was pure luck as the cat constantly paused to flirt with the girl in red and black, dodging attacks by the skin of teeth.  He watched the spectacle with calculated eyes, studying their stances, what their weaknesses were, the best way to restrain them.  The boy was easy to see.  He obviously meant well, but he was young and from the look of it, he held himself in a way that showed he was used to power.  He was probably from a wealthier family, one that gave him nearly everything.  But no one did something like this without something to prove.  But then there was the girl.  

She held confidence, yes, but there was more to it.  He couldn’t really see from the distance, but it was something in her eyes.  Some sort of determination.  Not one meant for or beaches of another person, but a form of determination in oneself.  He didn’t see a lot of that in many of the warriors that were in The League, it was fascinating.  

His focus shifted from the boy almost solely to the girl.  She was not trained, she could not even fall correctly!  But she was smart, agile, a born tactician with every move and decision she made.  He heard the whispers of her voice call something out as the villain sent a strong gust of wind their way; and watched as an extraordinarily small object fell into her palm.  He observed her as she looked around, eyes widening as she seemed to piece parts of a plan together in her mind in mere seconds.  She called out orders to the boy where he quickly followed everything she said to a T.  After she was done it only took them three minutes to stop the super-powered villain.  What made him even more confused was when she threw up whatever she had summoned, causing millions of ladybugs to surround the city and fix everything, even bringing the dead back to life, fear that not even the Lazarus Pits could accomplish.  He quickly turned back to the small group and watched as the girl began to swing away. If nothing else, Damian knew that he needed to follow her.  He needed to understand what went on in her head and why.  He needed to make her part of The League.  She would be an invaluable asset, someone that would take it to even higher peaks.  Of course, before he made such a thing official, he would need to do a lot more studying on her.  He would need to study her in her average life as well as her hero side.  He couldn’t have anyone weak or unwilling to do what is necessary enter the League.  He would not bring dishonor to his family’s name with a rushed, careless decision.  And so, he watched her, studied her, the people around her, and how he could take her.

Next

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