#Metahuman!AU

[one-hit-boy-wonder]

babs is secretly a bit miffed when duke gets his powers because oracle's been her branding since the kid was in middle school why does he get the inhuman father who passed on the ability to see the future? only special type of sight her dad gave her was nearsightedness

[arianna-creates]

Early days (pre-robin) version of a suit that makes batman seem like a metahuman

Read a really good fic about this concept that had a lot of good batdad moments, identity issues, and requited unrequited love for Superbat :)) <3

It's called Loading and Aspect Ratio and it's available on AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34977802

[g4rg0y1e]

i’m thinking about this fic i read where damian wayne was like a metahuman and he got his powers from the lazarus pits or whatever and he could take peoples “gift” (life force basically) and give it back at will

but i’m also thinking of another fic i read where damian had like control over plants and things like that

and i am also thinking of that one au where the fentons were in the LoA and wanted to raise jazz and danny outside of the league 

so i was also thinking of arranged marriage au with danny and damian 

so basically the fentons had been in the league for most of their adult lives and they had been raising jazz and danny in the league till danny was like 5 or 6 and they wanted to raise the kids in a relatively normal environment. so they made a deal with ra’s and talia that damian and danny were to get married when they turned sixteen and it was a magical contract so the fentons traded their freedom for danny and damian getting married or anyone involved in the contract would be punished with something or other. So they decided damian could visit like every other week for him to get to know danny more and they could see how the pit affects (am i using the right one?) his development and things like that.

[soulless-bex]

ignoring that the canon answer to jason’s resurrection is “superboy punched a wall”, i propose immortal!Jason Todd

as in, jason is actually a meta-human who can’t die. the only reason he stayed dead as long as he did in the first place is because of how fucked his body was after everything the joker put him through and he needed to “heal.” even then he was still recovering after literally digging himself out of his grave

however, since he most definitely can’t remember shit until after his dip in the lazarus pit, he doesn’t know. talia kept her mouth shut because knowledge is power, jason never asked because he was Angry and there were no other witnesses

so immortal meta-human jason but nobody figures it out until he dies again

[meowharhar]

tim drake au: healing metahuman

tim drake au where tim has a rapunzel-esque metahuman ability, inherited from his mother. when he sings to someone, they will heal.

batman hates metahumans, though, doesn’t he? it’s a mantra tim grew up with, the last words his mother left him with as a child. tim resolves to keep this tidbit of information to himself, fearful of the bat’s wrath.

still, when someone he loves is bruised and battered, passed out and pained, alone in the medbay, tim will sing quietly to them. there’s no one there to spy on tim, no one to call him out on his lies, and he loves his family and won’t let them hurt when he can help.

it’s all fine and dandy until tim is the one that’s hurt, and there is no one to sing sweet comforts for little tim.

it starts when tim is young, small even for a toddler, and he trips down the spiral stairs of a white tiled mansion. thumps echo through empty halls as tim tumbles. tim’s clothes are wrinkled from the impact and he’s bawling, wailing a storm as he clutches his little ankle. he knows intuitively that his mother will not appreciate this, but instinct beckons him to cry for attention. a tall, slim form, clad in white to match the emotionless walls, enters tim’s view and his mother’s face looks heckled. but swiftly, it bleeds into a tender worry and janet scoops her son into her arms and whispers to him meaningless words: a sad attempt at comfort. but when she holds tim’s ankle gently and her voice embraces tim’s being in a warm, tender hold, tim can’t help but feel at peace. a lullaby lulls the child into slumber and he wakes up in his room, ankle healed and clothes fixed.

[jart-ist]

Make them HATE... the name... JARTIST

[worldofmetahumans]

It's time for Metahuman Battle! A very exciting game, played by two teams of WoMH users. Will you participate on https://worldofmetahumans.com/ ??

[puppetmaster13u]

Howdy yall, I need some help with ideas.

If the batfam had abilities (Ie if they were metas) what abilities would you give each of them?

[oculusxcaro]

It was getting harder and harder to cover up the eyes. More uncomfortable too with how dry winter could be and while Gotham was no stranger to rain, lately it had started snowing which brought little relief to her skin except when walking to and from work after her shifts.

Khare sighed as she unravelled the sticky bandages covering her left forearm, wraps which now went all the way from her wrist up to her bicep. More bandages needed to be wrapped around her torso too but thankfully her uniform hid those, at least for now. The eyes... Khare no longer felt disgust as they rolled in their sore pockets, tiny orbs frantically darting to every source of movement within their limited range of sight. They'd been a part of her for well over a year at this point and while gouging them out slowed down their growth, they would inevitably regrow, each time in greater numbers than before. The relief of cold water splashing her eyes couldn't be described with words, Khare only sighing again as she soaked her arm in the sink with strong intentions of staying in the bath all day until it was time to go to work again. Her eyes - her actual ones glanced up at the mirror and Khare's expression remained impassive as she stared back at the stranger in the mirror. Her face had gotten paler in recent weeks, hollow even. Her eyes, once a pale blue with sickly gold rings lining her pupils were now cloudy looking, faded almost. That wasn't what interested her though, rather the inside of her mouth which she hadn't dared look at in weeks... Hooking a finger into the corner of her lip, Khare pulled back to reveal a grinning smile. Outwardly things looked... fine, if she didn't smile too much or open her mouth too wide but inside next to her old teeth, there was a line of new denticle growths in between the gums and inside of her cheeks. Those had sprouted some months back, small and budding and sore. At first Khare had frantically tried removing those too but they were in too deep and besides, she had no such tools avaliable to pluck them out even if she could do so single-handedly. Now, there were three new teeth completing the set along with a tiny eye that rolled at the sudden appearance of light, dingy as this run-down bathroom was. It was slightly better than her old apartment where she'd gotten thrown out. If it hadn't been for Senja, Khare would have had nowhere to go. The barista had let her stay a little while over at her place until someplace else was accepting new tenants, and since then Khare had mostly kept to herself despite feeling like a shitty friend about it. Best not to get too involved with anyone any more. You don't know how long you've got left. Khare swallowed dryly, tongue lolling as she let go. Her lip rolled back into place slowly with nary a trace of drool clinging to her fingers, eyes inside her mouth still begging for water like the ones on her arm currently soaking in the sink. Outside the darkening window, Khare perked up slightly at the sound of voices as fireworks rang across the evening skies instead of the gunfire she'd grown accustomed to here in Gotham. New Year's Eve already? She had sunk herself into work but she hadn't realized she'd forgotten Christmas had come and gone, let alone the whole of fucking December... "New year, new me." Khare sighed as she slapped a handful of cold water into her face, letting some of the droplets flow into her mouth. it was hard to believe she'd lasted so long at this point without... something happening to her, but it did seem that the appearance of new growths had slowed down, at least for now. The waitress turned away from the mirror, dry tongue licking at equally dry lips. Since when had she always been so thirsty?

[practically-an-x-man]

For reasons unknown, an immortal beast has been dropping off random trinkets at your ancestral home for generations. They're all kept in storage; nobody dares throw them away. Today instead of a trinket, the beast leaves a note with instructions on it.

Tweak this one as you see fit. Maybe Octavia? Dunno. Do what sparks your imagination!

Taken from here if the link works...

Ooooh I've actually got a neat idea for this one....

Thank you!!

____ Years Ahead

Word Count: 2.7k Content Warnings: none? mentions major character death but not in a violent way

____

The boy peered at the doorstep. He didn't spot the trinket for a long time. He was looking for something bright, something shiny, like so many of the other trinkets were shiny, and this... wasn't.

Finally he spotted it, a folded piece of old paper half-tucked under one of the flowerpots on the front stoop. Carefully, he tilted the pot enough to snag the paper underneath, and gingerly unfolded it.

It was a photo: in color, glossy, but faded with time. It looked like the photos the boy had seen on the walls of his grandmother's house - they still stuck to paper, instead of the screens and projections he had in his own house.

The photo showed a cluster of figures, dirty and bloodied but grinning at the camera. Some of the figures were... odd, not quite human, and it made the boy wonder where this picture had come from.

He folded it back up and took it inside. His mother had warned him, repeatedly, not to get too involved with the trinkets. Nobody in his family knew who sent them, only that they'd been arriving on the doorstep almost daily for close to a century. There was a heavy oak trunk in the attic, big enough that the boy and his father could both curl up inside and take a nap, full to the brim of these little trinkets.

The boy tossed the photo onto the pile with the rest, looking at the odd assortment of trinkets in the box. It didn't make sense: Roman coins next to animal-bone jewelry, rolls of camera film stacked on top of shark teeth and bullet casings. It was like their mystery gift-giver had raided a museum. Half the items looked like trash to him, useless, but his mother forbade him from throwing anything out.

"Did you check the stoop?" his mother called out, from somewhere below him.

"Yeah!" the boy shouted back, "It was a photo! I put it with the rest!"

He thundered back down the stairs and raced to catch the bus, and that was the end of that.

____

The next day, there was a shiny silver medal on the stoop. The boy picked it up and carried it upstairs, like all the rest, but something made him curious. He snagged the previous day's photo and turned over, poring over the figures in the shot.

There. The tall man in the center of the picture- he had the same medal clipped to his chest. And a gun slung over his shoulder. Military. The boy didn't know what it meant, but it felt like some sort of clue.

He spent the rest of the day rooting through the chest of trinkets, separating any items that caught his eye. He didn't find any more clues there, though he nearly cut himself on a small, slender blade at the bottom of the trunk. He nearly gave up there. It was a fluke, these two items in a row, or their mystery gift-giver just happened to steal from this military man and give out what they found there. The boy had wondered repeatedly if they were a thief. It was the only way to explain how they got all the trinkets.

His mother called him down to supper. He was nearly to the stairs when he remembered the stack of photos.

"Just a minute!" he shouted back down to his mother, rifling through the photos as quickly as he could.

Sure enough, the same man popped up in almost all of them. A few of the others did too, here and there, but none with as much frequency.

Well, almost none.

The man had his arm around them in almost every single one of the photos. Smaller, shorter, sharp-eyed but smiling, and always with a weapon in their hand. And as the boy flipped through the pictures, one right after another, he noticed something else.

They didn't age.

The man next to them did, little by little. His hair, already on the pale side, went thin and gray. Lines appeared on his forehead and cheeks, crinkled around his eyes when he smiled. The boy had no idea the scope of the photos, how many years were represented, but he could see that quite a lot of time must have passed between them.

And the person standing next to him did not change. If the boy looked closely, he could see a few new scars on their skin, or shifts in their expression over time, but they didn't age like the man next to them.

Immortal. Or close to it.

He knew who was leaving the trinkets.

The boy ran downstairs and tried to explain this all to his family, but they didn't believe him. No, not quite - they might have believed him, but they insisted he not push this any further. He didn't need to know who was leaving the trinkets, they said, and trying to investigate might just make them angry. If this really was some sort of god, the last thing they wanted was to displease it.

He said he understood. He said he wouldn't search for any more clues. He said he would let the immortal leave their gifts, and he would put them in the trunk upstairs, and that would be it.

He lied.

____

That night, once his parents had gone to bed, he snuck out of his room and crept down to the front stoop. He intended to stay there all night, armed with a two-liter of caffeinated soda he'd stolen from the kitchen and his fluffiest blanket wrapped around himself to ward off the nighttime chill. He was determined to stay awake, and catch this mystery gift-giver in the act. He held the photo and medal clutched tight in his hands.

Hours stretched on, and even the soda couldn't help him hold off his tiredness. It just made him have to pee. He was glad his mother didn't catch him doing it in the bushes. She'd be furious.

There was no sign of the gift-giver, nor anyone else. The night was dark and silent around him.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he noticed was sunlight spearing into his eyes. His head hurt, probably from all the soda and lack of good sleep. And he hadn't even caught a glimpse of the person he was looking for.

But his blanket had been tucked around him a little more soundly, and in his hands, alongside the medal and photo, was a note.

Stop looking for me.

There was no signature. The words were written in dark ink, simple and blocky handwriting. He was half-convinced his parents had written it for him, the same way they'd masqueraded as Santa Clause and the Tooth Fairy for so much of his life.

The boy had to hustle back inside before his parents could realize he'd spent the night on the stoop. He got dressed, brushed his teeth, ran off to catch the school bus like it was any other morning. The note burned a hole in his pocket the whole way.

He didn't show the note to his parents. When they asked about the morning's trinket, he grabbed a random object from the trunk upstairs and presented it to them. They couldn't tell the difference.

That night, he tucked a few of the photos - all showing the military man in the center of the shot - under the flowerpot, alongside a note of his own.

Who is he?

The boy didn't expect a response. But the next morning, he found another old medal from the US Army on the front stoop, alongside a small scrap of paper.

You remind me of him. Stubborn. Stop looking for me.

That was the only explanation he got. It confirmed something in his mind, though - the immortal from the picture, the one the soldier always held close to his side, was the same one who'd been leaving his family these little trinkets for decades.

He left them another note.

Why do you leave my family these things?

That one was accompanied by a handful of items from the trunk upstairs. He picked them at random. In the morning, they were gone.

Would you rather I take them back? Stop asking questions.

He thought about that one for a long time. On the one hand, he didn't want them to take back what they'd given - mostly because it sounded like a threat, and he didn't want his family or their home to get hurt because of it. Maybe he was getting too curious for his own good.

But on the other hand, they'd responded to every note he left. They could have been silent, kept leaving wordless trinkets or no trinkets at all, let him think they didn't understand English or didn't care or weren't human at all. But they responded. So maybe they did care. Just a little.

That night, he decided to voice his thoughts.

Why would I stop asking questions when you keep answering them?

Answering was more than a little generous. He still didn't know anything new. If anything, he had more questions than he started with. But why would they respond at all if they didn't want him to ask more questions? He had the strangest feeling that, whoever this person was, they liked the back-and-forth of it.

But maybe he'd pushed things a little too far with that last note. They were silent for a whole week after that. No more notes, no more trinkets. Even his parents started to get suspicious.

Just as he was ready to give up, when he debating not checking the stoop at all after so much silence, there was another note under the flowerpot.

You built a fort in the woods when you were ten. Meet me there. Next Sunday at midnight.

He'd definitely pushed things too far. This was how kids got abducted. He was a smart boy, but even a stupid boy would know not to walk into the forest at midnight and meet somebody they'd never met. He didn't even know this person's name, or if they were who they said they were. The only proof that they were the immortal in the pictures was that they'd been leaving trinkets for a hundred years, and no normal human would be able to do that.

But he wanted his questions answered. He wanted to see who it was.

He thought about telling his parents. This was starting to get scary. But if he told them now, they'd shut this whole thing down. And if this was the immortal person in the pictures, if they did know who that military man was, this might be his only chance to find out.

He didn't tell them just yet. He just left another note.

How do I know I can trust you?

The response was on the front stoop the morning after, alongside a carved statuette the size of his thumb. It looked like a lion, carved of some rough off-white material that might have been bone.

You don't. I'm a very dangerous person. Your family has always known this. There's nothing I can say that would reassure you otherwise.

But if you want to see me face to face, that is where I'll be.

He debated it for days. Logic told him not to go. Instinct told him he would be fine. He wasn't sure which one he trusted more.

____

The next Sunday, the boy found himself walking through the woods. He still remembered the path to his fort, though the darkness made every tree look alike. Once or twice, he thought he saw the gleam of animal eyes reflected in the light of his flashlight. Every so often, a stick cracked from somewhere off to his left. He felt like he was being followed.

He wasn't unarmed. He had a knife clutched in his hand, the same small blade he'd found in the trunk weeks before. In his pockets were a collection of firecrackers he'd found in the garage - hopefully they would prove some distraction if this really did turn out to be dangerous. He'd clipped the medals to the front of his shirt, just because. They made him feel a little braver.

He approached the fort, silhouetted in the darkness. His eyes strained for light, looking for any figure or flash of movement. So far, he saw nobody.

"You have my knife."

The voice came from his left, and he chucked the blade as hard as he could in the direction of the voice.

It struck their shoulder, hard enough to make them stagger back a step. Calmly, as if they were in no pain at all, they pulled the blade from their shoulder and turned it over in their hands. The wound sealed over in moments, leaving behind only a rip in their shirt and a wash of blood down their arm.

"Not bad, kid."

"You're the one from the picture." he blurted, the first thing that popped into his head. Because they were - the same sharp eyes, the same freckled-spotted skin, the same dark curly hair. Now they had no weapon, and most of their scars were covered by their long-sleeved shirt, but their face was familiar. He'd been looking at it for weeks.

The boy rustled in his pockets, pulling out the picture they'd left before - the group photo, where they all looked young and healthy, with the soldier and the immortal and the human shark and all the rest. Now it was obvious they were the same. They hadn't changed at all, though he wondered what had happened to the others in the photo.

"This one." he said, holding it out to them. The person took a step forward, and the boy unconsciously matched it with a shuffle back. He didn't want them close enough to grab him. He still had that much sense. The other person stopped where they stood, tilting their head at him.

"Yes." they said, "That one."

"You're... you're a god?" he guessed, his other hand fiddling with the firecrackers in his pocket. He had a feeling they would do very little, if this person wanted a fight. Maybe it was a bad idea to come here. Maybe he shouldn't have investigated.

"Not exactly." they responded, "I've just lived a very long time. You've heard of my kind before. Metahumans. Amazons."

"Like Wonder Woman."

That made them grimace, just a little. If he hadn't been watching them so intently, looking for any flicker of motion, he would have missed it.

"Yes." they decided, "Like Wonder Woman."

"Why do you keep leaving things on the doorstep? My grandpa says you've been doing it since before he was born." the boy asked. Little by little, he could feel his fear starting to trickle away. He still was wary, he still didn't let himself relax, but he was becoming convinced that this person wasn't here to hurt him. They still hadn't moved from their spot, and their hands hung loose at their sides. One still held that little knife, but it was a casual grip, like they'd forgotten it was there.

They were silent for a long time. The boy shifted on his feet.

"I made a promise, a very long time ago," they finally answered, dark eyes still frozen on the photo in his hand. They looked sad. They looked like they'd been sad for a long time. "I promised that I would protect your family for as long as I could. I promised that I would keep you safe. The trinkets are a sign that I'm still here to watch over you."

"Did he make you promise?" he asked, pointing to the man in the center of the photo. Another low wash of grief passed over the person's face.

"Yes," they said, voice choked, "Yes, he did."

"Who are you?" the boy couldn't help but continue, glancing between them and the photo in his hand, "Who is he?"

"My name is Eris." the person responded, looking at the picture with dark, sad eyes, "The man you see is your great-great-grandfather. He was... he was the only man I ever loved."

[apatheticsunday]

Dead Tired Stalker AU

AKA "Tim Drake is a little obsessive, possessive, and really, really likes his new boyfriend (Danny)" prompt idea!! No non-con, violence, or dead doves. Brief reference to human experimentation.

Inspired by this one post where Tim kept a methodical journal of Danny's resting pulse, body temperature, weaknesses, tracked him literally all the time, and Danny was like *heart-eyes*

I like the idea of Tim's idea of love being completely a bit skewed. He was neglected as a kid and craved attention, affection, being wanted; so, understandably, he assumes that's what other people want, too. He'd only had one boyfriend before. Kon was sarcastic, funny, and sweet, but even he couldn't handle Tim's... staring. The unblinking intensity in those eyes, the hundreds of pictures of himself on Tim's phone, somehow Tim knowing about Kon's conversations and experiences without having been there.

Needless to say, Tim and Kon's relationship ended with a harsh reiteration that most people need boundaries.

So, when Tim meets this very cute messy-haired boy at Gotham-U, he shoves down the instinctive urge to know everything. Mentally captures moments, memorizes them, instead of taking pictures. Shoves earbuds in to avoid listening in on Danny's conversations (oh, his name's Danny, which he overheard when the boy was speaking with the TA).

It's so hard not to obsess, though. Danny is... well, he's haunting. His crystalline eyes make Tim's heart stutter in his chest, chills rising along his arms; he swears there's this aura around Danny that's just utterly compelling. (Stop it, Tim, you'll scare him off.) But Tim can actually be a person sometimes, so he just asks, "Do you want to go out for coffee with me sometime?" And he's psyched when Danny says yes!! (He tries really, really hard not to memorize the fact that Danny likes hot oatmilk chai lattes, uses his left hand to hold his drink, and prefers not to use a coffee sleeve. Does Danny always hold his cups by the lid? Does he prefer- Tim stops himself.)

And Tim is a great boyfriend!! They go on dates (he doesn't avidly stare at the way Danny's eyes sparkle while at Gotham-U's planetarium). Tim learns Danny's favorite music the normal way (he doesn't hack into Danny's Spotify... although he's suddenly found himself listening to an artist named Ember). And Tim has a totally normal album of pictures of his boyfriend on his phone (his burner phone is a different matter entirely, but not even Batman himself could get it unlocked. Tim's got that phone sealed up tighter than the Fortress of Solitude).

Except Tim notices Danny becoming more withdrawn. More tired, dark bags under his eyes and stealing Tim's double espresso (he never does that, it's too bitter for him, why isn't he drinking his oatmilk latte?). Leaning his head on Tim's shoulder during lectures to take naps. And Tim's becoming more frantic the more lethargic Danny becomes.

Maybe he's more like Bruce "Contingency Plan" Wayne than he's willing to admit. Tim sets a hard boundary for himself: I'm just going to Google his symptoms. That's it.

He spends the next 42 hours obsessively researching Danny: hacks into his phone, downloads all his previous location history, texts, calls, background checks everybody Danny's been in contact with. Re-traces his steps down to the minute, finds all his Google searches, activates Danny's laptop webcam. He's determined to find out what's wrong with his boyfriend.

And because Tim is Red Robin, who literally became part of the Batfam because of his stalking tendencies and is one of the greatest detectives since Batman, he finds out. He finds out that Danny Fenton is one Phantom, a vigilante from Amity; finds obscure clips of newspapers mentioning a young boy's tragic death, discovers the GIW, uncovers classified information containing metahuman experimentation (let's say he doesn't quite know about Ghosts, but Metas are close enough).

Somehow, he makes a connection between ectoplasm and the Lazarus Pit (maybe not necessarily the right connection, but something-adjacent). After all, Jason was resurrected via "Evil Baja Blast" and Ra's al Ghul used it to make himself immortal. It would make sense that the GIW could sample Lazarus Pit water and use it to experiment on metahumans. So... Does Danny just need more Lazarus Pit water?

Cue Tim making use of the Drake and Wayne family wealth to literally overnight mason jars full of Lazarus water. Ra's al Ghul has no idea how it happened. He tests the reaction of Danny's DNA and the Lazarus water only to realize he was right. (Lazarus Pit waters are just excessively concentrated ambient ectoplasm, I guess?)

Tim does what any good boyfriend would do and spikes Danny's oatmilk lattes with Lazarus Pit water. And it helps. Danny is suddenly so much more energetic, there's that glittering shine to his eyes, and he looks so much healthier. Happier. Tim can't stop staring at him. If anything, he stares more, tries to memorize every angle of his boyfriend's face; he collects more candid pictures than before, always catching the gentle curl of Danny's lips when he's distracted; doesn't disengage the tracking apps or phone mirroring software.

He's just happy that his boyfriend is feeling better, more like himself. It's just a perk that Danny doesn't know about Tim's minor stalking tendencies.

(Danny absolutely knows.)

[witherby]

Witherby's DC Masterlist

Here's where you can keep track of everything I've made for the DC fandom!

Visual key:

Headcanons || Drabble || Long Post || Closed Series (no continuations)

One-Off Posts

--

The Batfamily members in Squid Game

The Batfamily enjoys a Snow Day

Lonely in a Crowded Room - Neglected!Batsis!Reader

Close Call - Bruce Wayne x Batman

Mother Hen, A/B/O Edition - Hal takes care of the batfamily

Here's a Batlantern Selkie AU

Blood and Teeth - you don't make it home before sunset.

Here's some Brucie Wayne admitting a Sexy Secret on a late-night talk show

What if Dick fell in love with one of his rogues?

Hal gets called a homewrecker by the Gotham Gazette.

Batlantern Valentine's headcanons

Catwoman x Fem!Sidekick!Reader - it's exactly that.

The Realization - Selina is in love with her sidekick.

Chubby!Reader - how do the bats feel about it?

Series

--

Mer!Reader x Human!Damian

Damian, one of the newest employees at Gotham Aquarium, forms a fast bond with its only mer inhabitant.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9

Gotham Aquarium's Twitter: you respond to the people on social media

Family Photo - fan art of Damian, his Mer, and their child

Kryptonian Soulmate AU

What if Clark Kent had a human Soulmate?

What if that soulmate hated Superman?

What if you were both from Smallville?

The Littlest Wayne - Adopted!Reader au

Or, the one where Bruce brings home a baby, and your adorable little face wins the heart of your new, big brothers.

The Littlest Wayne - Bruce brings you home.

There's more where that came from! LW's Masterlist is Here!

Punchline: Daughter of the Joker

Bruce and Damian find you during what was supposed to be a routine patrol, and now the family has to take on the monumental task of breaking your programming from your father.

Punchline - The Batfamily finds out about the Joker's Daughter.

There's more where that came from! Punchline's Masterlist is Here!

Flight of Fancy: Damian Wayne x Winged!Reader

Damian rescues a metahuman. The safest place to keep you in Gotham is the Batcave.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4,

What does Angel look like?

Another depiction of Angel!

[[ If a fic is missing please remind me to update the list! Please do not repost my stories anywhere without my permission! ]]

[ririblogsss]

Oh

(This idea has been done before butttt I still wanna explore it)

What if instead of the JL believing that phantom is a ghost they just believe he is a very much overpowered meta with stereotypical ghost powers.

like in this AU, Phantom would have successfully gotten in contact the JL and got the GIW shot down, the JL thinking that the GIW were making false claims about a different species so they could experiment on metahumans with unique abilities. The Fentons works are under extreme watch and everything they do / want to research is heavily reviewed. Phantom ended up joining the Young Justice league.

So because JL assumed that Dannys 'ghost form' was just to keep his ID from being reveled, as no one would look for his real ideantity and if they did they would look at people who have died. Batman thought it was a genius strategy.

But then one of his teammates (im thinking either RR of Superboy) mentions that in all this time phantom hasn't aged a single bit

(I'm thinking that his ghost look never aged since he died, basically forever 14 in that form)

And Dannys brutally honest like "Of course I don't age im dead" while rolling his eyes.

And everyone stops and takes a full look at him really analyzing him.

And his teammate just has the loading screen on their heads and they just say: oh I thought that you that-

And they can't even complete a sentence cause their baffled.

And Dannys shrugs like it isn't a big deal: Yeah I've said this before, lab accident I died but came back. Anyways I have paperwork to do royal duties u know.

And he just leaves everyone to have a mental crisis over someone they knew died at such a young age and that they came back only to protect people.

Meanwhile Batman's over in the corner inputting 100s of questions into google

'Is it legal to adopt the ghost of a child'

'Can someone call cps on a families ghost'

'how to take care of ghosts 101'

'what do ghosts like'

'ghost customs'

[bet-on-me-13]

Ghostly Host AU

So! Ghosts need a physical Anchor in the living world, or they are liable to fall apart and fade away if they stay for too long.

In Amity Park, this usually isn't too much of a problem. Sure most Ghosts can't stay for a week without a Host, but the ambient Ecto-Levels in Amity Park are enough that they can stay for a few days or so at a time with little worry.

This changes however, during Reign Storm.

When Pariah Dark awakens, Tens of Thousands of Ghosts use the Fenton Portal to escape the Rule of Pariah Dark, running away into the Human Realm.

If Amity Park had stayed where it was, this would have been fine. They could have stayed in the Living Realm for a few days, and maybe the Weaker ones would need to find a temporary Host, but that was fine since Amity was filled with thousands of Liminals.

Unfortunately, Pariah Darks first move was to suck Amity Park into the Ghost Zone, alongside all of the Ecto-Energy that had accumulated there.

Now left trapped in the Living Realm with no way back to the Zone, thousands of Ghosts suddenly needed Hosts or they would start dying off by the Hundreds. In a Panic, they spread out across the Planet in search of viable Hosts.

Any normal Person wouldn't do, they needed a Living Being that could actually handle their Power, or someone who matched their Soul. Preferably both. Liminals were the best since they had a durable Body and a Malleable Soul, so any Ghost could use any of them as a Host.

But outside of Amity Liminals were very rare, and finding someone who matched their Soul was time-consuming and hard. Thankfully, in recent years the population of Aliens, Metahumans, Enhanced Soldiers, and even extra durable baseline Humans had spiked across the world.

All across the planet, People suddenly found themselves stuck with a new Passenger in their Bodies.

Those new passengers thankfully weren't malicious, for the most part, but it was still annoying. The only good thing was that they now had new Powers, which neat.

They could summon the Ghosts in their Body outwardly, and then command the Ghost to use their Powers in whatever way they wanted. Only other Hosts could see another person's Ghost, which meant they looked very awkward to normal people when they fought. Generally, Hosts seemed to act more strangely after getting a Ghost, as if they lost a few of their Inhibitions.

Why did they feel the sudden need to strike a flamboyant Pose? Or over dramatically scream?

[the-fyre-flie]

Eldritch Gotham + Bat Family Cursed to be Metahuman Au where Bruce Waynes meta power is being imperceptible, silly alien invasion shenanigans!

Bruce just straight up won't show up on sensors or scans unless he *wants* to be found. He can meld with the shadows at will because he's just willing himself to not be noticed. It's not invisibility, it's more like he creates his own personal blindspot in the universe. He doesn't notice any of this at first because he's spent years training himself to be stealthy anyways, but it starts to freak out people like J'onn and Clark, who should be able to sense him anyways and just can't. This is also how, despite dozens of people knowing Batman is Bruce Wayne, his secret never really gets out.

A bunch of aliens from way far away come to invade earth, and they spend a few days orbiting to try and scope out the heros and protectors. The aliens conclude that no earthly hero can outmatch them, and they easily begin to take over earth. The JL get captured, every single member imprisoned in ways that exploit their weakness except for Batman, who's been missing since the aliens showed up. Already, the JL is working on a way to bust out, but not before Batman shows up kicking alien ass.

The aliens start freaking out cuz "wtf who are you why didn't you show up on any scans we literally spent days researching". Turns out as soon as Batman noticed the aliens he willed himself to just stop existing to the normal world, which created a massive blindspot for not only Batman but all history related to Batman. Like pages torn out of books, information on him was just unreadable and unobtainable.

Batman proceeds to jailbreak his buddies and the JL collectively send the alien invaders packing. Insert epic fight scene I don't feel like writing...

[pastelspite]

AU where Danny's parents are both metahuman vigilantes who met through fighting crime. Supervillain Vlad Masters, had fallen deeply in love with his arch nemesis, but his heart is broken when she marries fellow crime fighter Jack Fenton. To keep their future family safe from Vlad's jealousy, they decide to move to the quiet town of Amity Park, hanging up their capes for good. They hide their past, and their metahuman status, from their children.

When Danny discovers his powers in his teens, he thinks he's the only one in the family who has "The Gift." He's afraid of how his parents will react, since they put so much emphasis on being "average." he hones his abilities in secret with the help of his friends. Amity Park has always been boring, it's not like he'll be fighting a lot of crime any time soon...

...Until Vlad Masters comes out of hiding for the first time in 14 years.