#So Damian ordered him to say something crazy

[dcxdpdabbles]

For Angel Brat, could we have some more focus on Bruce and Danny? Maybe Dick and Danny as well?

Bruce looks over to where Danny and Dick are each filling up their frozen yogurt cups. Dick's, is a vanilla and chocolate mix topped with various candies.

It seemed he had taken the open bar toppings as a personal challenge to drop a scoop of everything laid out into his container. Honestly, Bruce sometimes wondered if all of Dick's spontaneous flips were just a means to stay in shape, so he could keep eating the way he did.

Danny, on the other hand, had chocolate topped with only peanuts. His blue eyes- the only difference between him and Damian physically wise- kept wandering over longingly to offered sweeties but he was on a strict diet for his health.

Bruce can't believe that for all they have been searching for ways to keep Danny; they had neglected developing research for his illnesses. It felt a bitter taste in his mouth that they still could not find a cure for his boy.

Bruce Wayne was able to travel through time but make sure his son could run long periods without his heart or his lungs breaking down? Turns out he truly is just a mortal, and that was one of the worst things to realize when his son confidently bragged about being able to do two entire laps of their yard without nearly passing out.

He mentally did some calculations before stepping closer and touching Danny's shoulder. "I think you can have some chocolate chips."

His boy's face brightened in joy before he rushed to the counter, scooping the chocolate goods into his yogurt. It's another thing he noticed about Danny.

Unlike Damian, his youngest didn't bother hiding his emotions. He wore them like a badge of honor, letting them bleed across his face as quickly as he allowed sunlight to rest on them.

Bruce isn't sure if this is due to their different personalities- like the night and day of those two- or if it was because Danny had gotten out of the League when he did. Damian had broken him out to prevent him from being killed for his execution, but Bruce could not figure out where Danny had grown up.

His son's phrases and slight accent indicated midwestern. Bruce had no idea where, and every time he tried searching for him, the only thing that popped up was the already small rumors. Was this an effect of the timeline resetting? But why were there some posts and data on him left behind if it was?

It gave Bruce a headache; even Wally had no idea what was causing it. Wally, having been trapped in the Speed Force for so long, was the expert on it. Bruce shuddered to think of the alternatives if he couldn't figure out what was happening.

Bart had assured everyone that Danny was officially an anchor to their timeline, but if Wally's grim warnings that time was slowly erasing him- thus the lack of proof of childhood- then nothing they could do would save their son.

The worst part was not knowing if he would even be able to properly mourn him. Would Daniel Wayne vanish one day if no one remembered he was supposed to be there?

"Dick, I'm taking a pottery class. I'm going to make you something for your desk." Danny says, snapping Bruce out of his dark thoughts. Then he realizes he was moving on auto-polite, and the cashier was handing back his change.

He takes it with an empty smile turning to his children as Dick beams down at the youngest. "I can't wait to see it, Danny! I bet it will be the best one in class."

"I'll be the only one in the class," Danny tells him sheepishly, but a hint of sadness leaks into his voice. "I'm too sick to go to the center. Dad hired me a private teacher to come to the manor instead."

Bruce's heart squeezes painfully, and one quick glance at Dick's face lets him know his son feels the same way. Of course, nothing sows on his eldest face, but Bruce has known Dick for so long he can tell by the slight tightening around his eyes and the way the pain is tucked in his eyes.

Before he can think better of it, Bruce hears himself say, "I've always been interested in pottery. I'll see if the instructor wouldn't mind a second student."

"Really?" Danny's eyes are practically shining , which prompts Bruce to smile and shrug a shoulder.

"Yes, in fact I'm sure all of your siblings would love to take a class or two. Why don't you send a message in the group chat to see if they like to sign up?" He makes a motion that has Dick pulling out his phone to send in a different group titled "Keep our Angel."

His phone dings just a few seconds before Danny's, which the more petite boy takes as his own message coming through. Bruce never the less checks it anyway, swiping over to Dick's to read what he wrote

Dick: You are all taking a pottery class this Saturday. No excuse. Danny wants us there. I will hurt you if you miss.

His lack of emojis is bone-chilling. Bruce highly doubts any of his children will miss the event. And just as he predicted, Danny's smile grows wider when more dings can be heard coming from his phone.

"Everyone can make it!" He cheers, scrolling through the messages, looking like the world had just been promised to him. "This is going to be so much fun! Do you think the teacher won't mind?"

"I'm sure she will be happy for the raise." And if she wasn't, Bruce would quickly find someone who would. Money, to him, was never an issue.

Danny grins so brightly that Bruce wonders if he should invest in some sunglasses, but his heart does soar. Even if Dick has to reach out to adjust Danny's heart pump wires after they get stuck on the chair.

Effortlessly, Dick moves the attention away from the machine with a simple question. "Besides my gift, what else are you hoping to make Danny?"

"I'm going to make a vase for Bernard. Damian will help me buy him flowers and ask him out." Danny's words are accompanied by a brilliant blush, but he seems almost proud of his newfound courage to ask a boy three years his senior.

Did Bruce just get shot? He feels like he's been shot.

Dick's little spoon crumbles in his hold as his very famous and dangerous rage bleeds into his blue eyes. "Wow. That's so brave of you. By the way, where does Bernard live again?"

Bruce will have to postpone his deep dive into finding out where Danny was raised because if he takes his attention off of Dick for even a second, his eldest will kill that boy.

[dollishmehrayan]

WEIRD THINGS BATBOYS DO WHEN THEY LIKE YOU ── .✦

a/n: this is a request + ask so tysm to whoever sent that but it’s (here) but anyways I’m so excited for my birthday on december 7th this year and it’s just so beautiful to see me grow up honestly and find myself. (Tags: batboys x crush!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Excessive Flexing (Literally): Dick will "accidentally" do pull-ups in front of you. He’s already shirtless and grinning, saying, “Oh, didn’t see you there. Wanna join?”

Compliment Overload: “Is that a new hairstyle? New shoes? You look incredible. Oh, wait, you always look incredible.” He will literally point out your eyelashes looking perfect “wow so nice, your lashes are so long and beautiful.”

The Over-Helper: He suddenly insists on helping you with everything—carrying bags, opening jars, lifting heavy stuff—and does it with the biggest, dorkiest smile. “It’s no big deal, bab- I mean—uh… friend.”

Trips Over Air: He’s graceful in battle, but near you? He’s knocking over coffee cups and walking into doorframes. "I swear, I’m usually coordinated, maybe I’m falling for you?😉”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Overly Cool Persona: He tries to play it cool, acting like he doesn’t care. But then he’ll text you at 3 a.m. with, “U up? I found a meme that reminded me of you.”

Teases You Constantly: Jason’s version of flirting is lightly roasting you. “Did you really think that outfit would work today?” But if anyone else says something, he’s ready to fight.

Surprise Gifts: He’ll give you something like your favorite snack but pretend it’s no big deal. “I just had extra,” he’ll mumble, even though he went to three stores to find it.

Blushes Like Crazy: He’s all tough-guy until you compliment him, and then it’s over. He gets red and stammers, “Shut up,” while smiling like an idiot.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Awkward Genius Mode: He’s smart with everything… except his crush. Suddenly, forming coherent sentences is a challenge. “I-I mean, uh… yeah, computers.”

Googles 'How to Flirt': You’ll catch him peeking at his phone mid-conversation because he’s literally reading “Flirting 101” or reading Reddit threads on flirting gone wrong.

Coffee Delivery: He’ll bring you coffee with your exact order memorized and pretend it’s casual. “Oh, you like this too? Weird coincidence.” It’s not. He asked around for hours.

Accidentally Compliments You: He’ll blurt out, “You smell nice.” Pause. “I mean, not that I’m sniffing you or anything!” Cue him turning bright red and hiding behind his laptop.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Pretends He Doesn’t Care: He’ll act indifferent but secretly monitors everything you do. “I don’t care what you do,” he says while glaring at someone standing too close to you.

Suddenly Overly Polite: Damian, the king of sass, becomes weirdly respectful. “Would you like me to carry that for you? No? Okay. Are you sure?”

Gives You Fancy Gifts: He gifts you rare, expensive things like hand-picked flowers from the Wayne estate garden. “It’s not a big deal. Just take it.”

Random Acts of Bravery: He’ll jump in front of a moving bicycle or push you out of the way of a puddle, then act like it was nothing. “It was instinct. Don’t be dramatic.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Becomes an Awkward flirt: He’s smooth in public but completely loses it around his crush. “Do you need anything? No? Water? A chair?” He’s offering things you don’t need.

Over-Explains Everything: Bruce will start talking about something mundane and give a full TED Talk. “Well, you see, the Batmobile’s engine is unique because…” You just wanted to know if it had cup holders.

Subtle Touches: He’ll brush your hand “accidentally” or adjust your coat collar, lingering just a second too long. But if you call him out, he’ll stammer, “I thought you were cold.”

Silent Protector: He’ll stand silently in the background, watching like a brooding guardian angel. If anyone flirts with you, his jaw clenches like it’s personal.

Bonus: Dumb Things They ALL Do ── .✦

Group Text Fiascos: They’ll text each other for advice, and it always goes wrong.

Jason: “Should I call her pretty or hot?”

Tim: “Say she’s breathtaking. It’s classier.”

Dick: “Just tell her you love her.”

Damian: “You’re all fools.”

Bruce (accidentally replying to all): “…Delete this.”

Staring Too Long: Every single one of them will stare at you for too long, only to awkwardly look away when you notice. They’ll try to play it off, but you know they were looking.

Clumsy Idiots: They’ll all try to do something impressive—lift something heavy, show off their fighting skills—and it’ll backfire hilariously. But the effort is adorable.

[igotanidea]

Smooth criminal: AK!Jason x reader

part 1 : Somebody's watching me

part 2: Run baby, run

Yeah... I know it's been a while. Sorry guys. But here we are :)

***

They say that history repeats itself. That’s its merely a one big circle in which people get lost endlessly, not learning from the past mistakes, instead doing them all over again.

Like an Uroboros, forevermore biting his tail.

And that was how Y/N felt at the moment, shaking over the cup of tea Dick so generously offered her alongside with his hoodie. And even more kindly – not asking any questions of why she showed up at his apartment (or rather under it) in the middle of the night looking crazy.

She was back at the beginning. Back over Jason’s grave, sobbing and shaking while the memories of the news of him being gone forever haunted her mind.

Felt like all her efforts to forget and move on have come to nothing.

“Y/N…”

“No. No please I don’t want to talk Dick-“

“I was just gonna say you can stay here for as long as you like. I don’t know what got you so freaked out, but the Y/N I know – knew­ – was not the one to get scared over a spider or a mouse. So it must have been serious. Stay.” He grabbed and squeezed her hands reassuringly. “I’m serious.”

“No, no it’s too much to ask for—”

“Good thing you did not ask then.” Dick grinned “Cause I believe I offered It myself.”

“You really didn’t change a bit, Grayson. Same golden, sunshine boy.”

“And you’re still the same, not holding back girl. Woman. How long has it been exactly?”

“Two years.” She sighed

“Two years.” Dick sighed too, his eyes becoming a little blurry from the memories. “I missed you, you know. And not only me. So did Tim and Alfred and Damian and I’m sure even Bruce became a little more grumpy without your presence to challenge him.”

“He’s got enough criminals to keep him entertained I believe?”

“Oh, Y/N, criminals he can handle easily, they are no fun. But having a woman with a sharp mind? That’s something Bruce still needs a lot of training in.”

***

 It was shockingly easy to reconnect with Dick.

Or maybe not, given the fact he was always awfully friendly, keeping in touch even with his exes and even having considerably good relations with some villains.

Long story short, in a months’ time she was regularly back in his life and he was back in hers. And much to her surprise, this time it was not a constant reminder of the person she lost, neither filling the void, but rather a soft recollection that she was not the only one who felt the repercussions of Jason being gone.

If anything, after that time apart, it felt like Y/N and Dick’s relationship could finally move past the tragic events and bloom. Not in a romantic sense, because he had Barbara and was making plans in that area, but like a true, deep friendship, cemented with similar feelings.

And she even got the guts to meet with the rest of the batfamily, ditching those girls who left her alone at the party. Slowly, but steadily, she was getting back to her old, familiar self, dropping the act of a girl who wanted to be anything but the version she was when Jason was alive and with her.  She was not running from the past anymore, but rather embracing and accepting it. And that was the real healing.

Only that Jason was not gone.

Observing her carefully from the shadows, watching almost every step, be it himself or using his militia. With explicit orders given to not let her know they were there. He had bigger plans coming, and making the same mistake as before, by coming as close as to touch her, could never happen again. Even if somewhere deep inside, the very subdued part of him screamed for that. For the warmth he remembered and knew would come with tenderness and not pain.

She never gave him anything less but love and devotion.

If anything Jason was only cursing himself that he let her step into the Batman world again. That is was his reckless behavior that drove her back into the arms of people, who were nothing but bad news. Who would eventually end up hurting her too.

And he was going to protect his little, innocent princess from that.

So yes, he was watching.

Sending his goons when he knew she was walking back home from work late, to ensure no one would lay a finger on her.

Causing a commotion in the area that happened to be dangerous only so she would choose another way.

Sending her colleagues threat letters so they would drop the chase for the same promotion at work as her.

Beating up a guy who was trying to flirt with her when she was buying coffee-to-go at her favorite place.

Doing it all smoothly, like a professional he was.

Building up a way to execute his master plan that would keep her safe from any danger, real or hypothetical. Forever.

***

“She got home, boss. Safe and sound, not one hair out of place.” One of his militia officers reported to him

“Good.” Jason only grunted in response. One whole month and he was so close to the finale. The end was right in front of him and he had to hold himself back to not make a single rookie mistake that would derail his efforts.

“If I may, sir, why exactly are we wasting resources on some woman? She’s no one important, just a regular—”

“What did you say?”

If the sinister voice wasn’t enough to make the man stop his sentence, the iron grip on his throat did.

“I- I-“

“No one important? Huh? Was that what you said?” Jason mocked tightening fingers on the man's jugular. “Answer me!”

“I- I-“ he was struggling for air.

“Pathetic!” Jason threw him on the ground, retrieving the gun from his holster, pointing it at the man’s head.

“Please, don’t—”

“I should put a bullet in your head for talking about her like that and second one for questioning my plans.” The gun outlet was now pressing into the man’s temple. “You are doing what I tell you, you hear me? No questions. No doubts. You are here to serve me, unless-“ Jason put a little bit of pressure on the trigger.

“No! No please!”

“You’re a piece of shit.” Arkham Knight muttered, taking the gun away. “But I am feeling merciful today. We can’t have blood on the floor when Y/N arrives. Now go! Get out of my face before I change my mind! And you make sure everything is perfect because if not—” he  caressed the arms with a cruel glint in his eyes, enjoying the way his officer rushed out of the room, throwing commands left and right, halfway out the door.

“Soon, baby… Soon we’ll be back together…” Jason muttered to himself once he was finally alone.

He was so close to having everything he needed.

@vaniasagitaa @gone-batty-fics @astrelz @not-herexo @deans-spinster-witch @calicocat45 @princessbl0ss0m @rosieandthethorns @beingaturtlespiritually @grierpilots @killerwendigo @teenytinytunes

[teaboot]

Batman? As in extended batman universe, specifically batman, or movies batman? I'm going to die from the hilarity of /accidentally/ following another batman fan. Generally it's on purpose lol

I was actually absorbed into the Fandom by osmosis before I even touched any of the Canon material

Even now I've only seen the Affleck movies and the Battinson one, plus a couple cartoons and like. Four comics out of order

With next to zero evidence tho I have decided that

Dick Grayson has Eldest Daughter syndrome that, speaking as an Eldest Daughter (tm) really should be addressed in the lore somewhere before he goes on a drunken bender, gets a tramp stamp, kills a man, and has a full-on mental breakdown when the Repression Dam breaks

Stephany Brown radiates "angry teen girl needs a hug" energy imo but I feel like she might break my arms? I don't know anything about her except her dad sucks but honestly same boat, would hang

Timothy Drake cannot be the helpless boohoo I see a lot of, but somehow the cool, collected, hypercompentant, übermensch-tweenybopper look is kinda sadder, like seeing a twelve year old buying groceries at the store by themselves. I want to send his ass to normal kid summer camp

I don't know pretty much anything about Duke Thomas except that he's a meta whose parents might be alive but crazy. I can only conclude that he suffers from Black Character White Fandom syndrome. I headcanon that he had an embarrassing weeb phase in middle school because he feels like the kind of kid Who'd have gone through a phase of saying "ohaio" with peace signs as a baby tween. I have no evidence to support this

Cassandra Cain might be my favourite. I think she deserves to go on an angry, irrational rampage or two, as a treat. Aggretsuko vibes that I cannot explain. I bet her favourite colour is purple

Jason Todd is my guilty comfort character and I refuse to believe he kicked the shit out of a fifteen year old while wearing a legless adult onesie. I refuse. Also yeah as a huge angry-kid-book-nerd there is no way that pride and prejudice was his number one fave, my money is on the Percy Jackson series but that could just be me projecting

Damian Wayne is Autistic, personal subscription. Because I am too and I said so. Reminds me of my baby brother, but crankier. Like a tiny old man who doesn't want to be at bingo with the other folks at the senior center.

I feel like Alfred should be allowed to be wrong about something sometimes but I still love him. Give that grandpa a gun

Bruce Wayne strikes me as a man who should have put a lot more thought and study and personal therapy consults into the idea of adopting multiple highly capable highly traumatized children he's never met before before but fuck pobody's nerfect am I right. Bisexual

[skittles-secrets]

May I please request Bruce Wayne proposing to his partner? Thank you so much, I really enjoy your writing!

bruce proposes to you

bruce has had a day to say the least. first, it was trying to get you off his back for a half hour while he went to the most expensive jewelry store in all of gotham. then, he had to figure out how he was supposed to do it in a way that the both of you would enjoy.

yeah... about that. you'd never talked about it. you didn't say how you wanted to get proposed to. but he understood, how would anyone bring that up in a day-to-day conversation. 'um, yeah, i wanna get proposed to at a park with the dolphins' (too flashy for bruce) 'um, yeah, i want my boyfriend to propose to me at dinner' (not good enough for bruce, and he knew you'd think the same.)

he even resorted to calling up all of his adopted and biological children for advice. damian.. was literally no help. it was so crazy to bruce that damian could be such a little jerk but had his boyfriend jon follow after him like a puppy dog by saying just one word to him. bruce didn't get it. damian definitely got his looks and charm from his mother.

jason and dick tried their best, but it was clear why neither of them were married. dick brought up crazy stuff, like getting a yacht and proposing to you on that. but that would be way too obvious and take too long, and that didn't work for him because he had to do it today.

so jason's option seemed the most sane and normal. asking to have a nice day with you tomorrow and proposing to you at the end of the night. that's exactly what he planned to do for you.

--

when the two of you woke up the next morning, you were greeted with the smell of a nice breakfast. you knew alfred didn't make it because he said that he'd be out of town for the morning to pick up specialty.. you don't even know.. for tim.

you groaned when your eyes slowly began opening. "bruce?" you mumbled hazily. he was sitting beside you, holding your plate. he smiled gently when he saw that you had awoken up.

"y/n, good morning. made you breakfast." you don't think you've ever heard those words come out of his mouth in the six years you've been together. it wasn't that he didn't do nice things for you, but more so that he usually lets you know when other people do things for you.

you nodded, acknowledging him, but shifted closer to meet the warmth in his taller body. he let out a nice chuckle at that, he obviously sounded good when he did it. you could feel the soft rumble from his chest into your ear. it was comforting.

after you got up and ate breakfast (it was good considering the man doesn't cook), he asked you if you wanted to go out for dinner later in the day. you agreed. you loved when he took you out for a simple thing like that, it made you feel special.

before that, he took you walking down the shopping district of gotham and buying you whatever you felt like you wanted even just a little bit.

your dinner was nice. he brought you to your favorite restaurant and ordered you your favorite food. he could tell how happy you were because you had smiled a lot that day. smiling was usually something he had to coax out of you with lots of hard work. today really was a good day to propose, he thought.

when dinner was over, the two of you were walking home. your bags hung from his fingertips effortlessly, a testament to his strength. he stopped you on a sidewalk. "let's stop for a minute. have to talk to you about something, yeah?"

you stopped walking at the words. great, now you were pooping your pants worrying about what he was going to say. did he find your search history? is it over? no, no, he wouldn't have done all these nice things to scold you for something.. "okay," you agreed with him.

"okay. i've been worrying about this for months now, trying to make sure it's perfect. perfect is what you deserve, you know that?" he started. he reached into his pocket but didn't take his hand out of it until one of his knees was touching the ground.

oh.. that's what this is. duh, what else would he be trying to say? your face's worried expression diminished into a soft, fond one. he'd never admitted to worrying about something like ever, and you were sure his kids would testify to that. this was so sweet.

"so, i want to ask you if you'll marry me?" he asked nervously, finally opening the box he fished out of his pocket. you nodded vigorously. "of course, bruce, 1,000 times." you put out your left hand, and he slid the expensive ring onto your finger.

bruce really knows how to make a good day better.

so yeah.

[therandomartmaker]

[Image ID: An artwork featuring Danny Phantom, full green excluding his hair and white accents, transparent, sitting on a pile of rubble head tilted slightly upwards with his eyes closed. His hair is wispy, he’s got pointed ears and he’s much more identifiable as a ghost. The rubble includes the F of the Fenton Works sign, a satellite dish of some kind, pipes and concrete. The rubble, and Danny, is surrounded by yellow-black striped caution tape. Above Danny’s head is a conversation, in white, “It’s been ten years,” has been written, and in green, “It’s only been 10 years,” is written. /End ID]

Day 31: “It had been a decade since anyone last lived at Fenton Works. Or so people thought.”

tbh this took like. Less than half an hour to make haha. I may have forgotten to do this yesterday lmaooo. To make up for it, here’s a continuation of this prompt by @cryinginthevoid that i filled, wherein Danny has been stuck haunting the rubble of a ruined Fenton Works after his permanent death, only to later be approached by a very much alive Damian, who is the first person to See Danny in over 10 years. So yep, bonus challenge post 2 under the read more :D

Damian had visited. He’d promised and he’d followed through on it, Danny sitting still and watching as Damian approached, day after day, even after Danny had no more words to say, no more information to give. To quote, he was “a tolerable friend despite your intolerance for proper respect.” Danny had no idea if that was a good or bad thing, if he were to be honest.

But still! It’d been 10 years since he’d to spoken to someone, something other than the air. Damian said his brothers wouldn’t follow him, despite saying he’d bring them to meet Danny during one their tentative hangouts, and Danny supposed that was a good thing. He didn’t want Damian to sound crazy or look crazy for talking to thin air, especially not by his family.

Though, what was interesting was the weird amount of black-haired blue-eyed outsiders hanging around town. The FentonWorks rubble had a pretty good view of most of town, despite it’s slow erosion into dust, so Danny was able to see the several strangers in town whenever he went looking.

Damian said his family was looking into ectoplasm due to it’s relation with the dead, and trying to find if anyone around town knew how to access their information databases. They needed to know if there was a way to relieve “Jason’s” burden of the “Lazarus Rage,” and prepare in the case someone else in the family acquires it. And that ‘Lazarus Pits’ are classified information, but who did Danny have to share it to, no one could talk to him except Damian, anyway.

And truthfully, those Lazarus Pits Damian mentioned sounded like pools of ectoplasm that Maddie and Jack would’ve killed for. Danny could only suggest looking into ‘ecto-acne’ treatments, as from one of the stories of Vlad Masters Danny’d heard, it sounded like the short-term effects of ectoplasm exposure.

—

Damian didn’t know why he was sharing so much confidential with Daniel, but he didn’t seem to mind, and didn’t seem to talk to anyone else. He figured it’d be fine. Daniel needed to know as much context as possible in order to help Damian.

Daniel was strange, he spoke in large amounts, but quieted as though he doesn’t expect someone would respond to him. He rarely moved, and there was something unnatural about him. Perhaps the lack of a rise and fall of his chest, or the way his eyes shined.

Damian couldn’t help but make comparisons to the dead he’d seen. Lightless glossy eyes, pale skin, sallow flesh. Daniel was built like a dying or dead person.

Damian… worried. He’d grown close to the other boy, Daniel’s snark to Damian’s sharp tongue and his acceptance of Damian’s veganism, multiple other factors about Damian never drove Daniel away from him. It was nice, being accepted by someone outside of his family. Daniel’s health was concerning, malnutritioned and Daniel’s reaction time was slow. Multiple things were off-kilter about him, and Damian wanted to know why. So he could help.

Because Danny was his friend.

—

Dick observed Damian. He’d taken to pacing the length of the hotel room, and he seemed worried about his new friend (!!! Dami has a friend!!!! And he’s worried about him!!!), muttering about bringing food to the next time he visited. Dick kinda felt bad about what he was about to tell Dami.

“Richard, why are you looking at me?” Dami asked, stopping his pacing to look up at Dick, a soft half-hearted glare on his face.

“Uh well, Tim…” (fuck! He wasn’t supposed to mention Tim!)

“What did Drake do?”

“Tim told me to tell you that we’d gotten enough information and that we were leaving in two days, just in case something new crops up!” Dick rushed, knowing that Dami would loathe the information, but despise Dick more for not telling him.

Dami needed to say goodbye to his new friend, after all, but from what Dick could tell, they couldn’t even have long-distance communication, because “Daniel Who Liked Being Called Danny” didn’t even have a phone!

Dami’s click of his tongue was expected, and his expression had worsened too. Dick had messed up, but he didn’t think there was anyway to break it gently that Damian would have to leave his newfound friend.

The boy stormed off, leaving the room with a door slam. Dick felt bad, man. Well… Dick did have a spare phone he was free to gibe to someone… Perhaps Danny would like it?

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Is it death who comes knocking? (is it a curse to always know?)

Day 1 of The Long Halloween - event masterlist here

pairing: damian wayne x reader (gender neutral)

length: 7.5k

genre: horror, fluff kinda, hurt/comfort

warnings: mothman damian, crime scenes, lots of vague / symbolic mentions of death, this is kinda a monsterfucker fic but it's sfw as always, reader gets a little stressy a little hysterical

a/n: daaaaaay one I hope we all like it <3 kiss kiss enjoy

"What are you staring at? Come on, move along -"

"What, am I not allowed to gawk?" you snap, making the young police officer in front of you freeze and blink owlishly. "God knows everyone else is." He glances around at your words, letting his eyes flick frantically over the growing crowds that surround the crime scene as the police lights bathe their stricken faces in red, then blue, and then red again.

The officer keeps speaking, trying his best to bark orders and demand that everyone move along and find something else to do other than stand and stare and poke around a crime scene. But you're not particularly listening anymore. Your head, instead, tips back so that you can look up at the night sky and the towering buildings of Gotham.

A shadow flickers somewhere overhead, as black as the darkened sky. You wonder, for just a moment, if it's him.

The Mothman.

"Go on, really," the officer's defeated sigh makes you snap your head back down to look at him. He arches a brow wearily and, after glancing around to confirm that most of the crowd is still gathered, you narrow your eyes at him. "Get lost."

"I'm just standing here," you press. "Just like everybody else."

"No," he crossed his arms. "I've seen you before. Anytime, anywhere some freak accident happens, anytime somebody dies, you're always here, nosing around." You take a step back at his words, pressing your lips together in annoyance. "Maybe," he says pointedly. "Maybe we should bring you in for questioning."

"For a freak accident?" you quip back. "Incredible use of police resources." You hope that he doesn't notice the way that you sweat at his comment, hope that he can't see the way that your heart hammers and lurches as you spin on your heel and march away, knocking shoulders with people in the crowd.

You hope that he can't see the flickering shadow overhead, and hear the faint sound of wings beating over the breeze.

The Mothman. 

If you ask anyone, he's a myth, a scary story that you tell when you're out in the dark with your friends and you want to give them a good fright.

He's the omen of death, it's believed, and if you see him, you're sure to die. When tragedy is about to strike, when death is about to reign down, the Mothman will appear on the scene, dark and wild and ready to see it through.

As you begin the long walk back to your apartment, you shove your hands into your pockets to ward off the oncoming chill of night, watching as your breath fogs out in front of your face. Flashes of the crime scene that you'd just left play over and over in your mind, the accident and the death and the Mothman, large and looming and deadly as he stares. 

You were so sure… you were so sure that this time, you'd get there quick enough, that this time you'd stop him from killing again. 

You go to step out onto a crosswalk, but an oncoming car honks and the sound makes you jerk back as you blink, stepping back onto the safety of the sidewalk as you shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut.

As if it will help.

As if anything will make you stop seeing the things that you see.

They're visions, you suppose - nightmares of the creature and his killings, vivid, painful flashes and glimpses of the myth and the havoc that he wreaks. 

But the nightmares keep coming true and there's nothing that you can do to stop them. There is never anything that you can do to stop them. You're always just a bit too late, just a minute too slow.

It's crazy, you tell yourself. It's a coincidence. But you keep your lips pressed firmly together, even now as you cautiously peer both ways before hastening across the busy Gotham streets, your feet surer and quicker than the rest of you has ever been. You keep your mouth shut, because the threat of being thrown somewhere like Arkham is too real and terrifying for you to do anything other than spend your days scrambling, running and running and running and falling just short of anything.

You keep your mouth shut, even at night when the visions creep up and you find yourself plagued with images of things that haven't happened yet - deaths that are soon to occur.

And in every one of these visions, it's the Mothman who appears to carry out the killing. You're sure of it. It's always him.

As you step back into your apartment, flicking on the dull, yellow-hued light and standing in the silent entryway with windswept hair and frozen fingers, you think that surely… surely next time you'll get there fast enough. Next time you'll save a life.

But when you wake the next morning, there have been no visions. No twisting and turning agony, no spiralling panic and gasping, sweating fear. There's just… nothing. 

And when you wake the next day, there's nothing. 

And the day after that, and after that, and after that. Just… nothing. You think, sort of hesitantly, like a prey animal spotting food in a trap, that perhaps you've found some sort of freedom. Perhaps you've found a way out.

But then you wake, one day, when the sun is just barely cresting over the horizon and beginning to spill golden light onto the twisted, frantic city below, and your heart hammers in your chest as your lungs burn. Images of the dreams that you'd had, of the twisted visions that haunted you come to the surface, flashing through your mind over and over and -

And you grip your blanket with one hand while the other flies over your mouth so that you can muffle your own panicked breathing, so that you can smother any sound that you make. 

Because this vision was different. This time… this time you saw him, with clawed hands and feathered wings, climbing through your open window and stepping onto your faded, wooden floors. This time, the Mothman is in your home, and he is going to come to kill you, you're sure.

It's a panicked sort of thing, the way that you rip the blankets off of your frame so that you can launch out of bed and stumble into your living room to reach for the open window. You think frantically back to the visions and remember only the window, wide open like a maw, and spilled water on the hardwood floor, as if something was knocked over on his way in.

This has to be the window, you think to yourself as you slam it shut, locking the latch roughly. This has to be it, you think as you glance at the vase of flowers on the window ledge, the water reflecting the early morning light and shining through the glass.

And then surely, you think as you step back, twisting your hands nervously in front of you, surely he can't get in. Surely death cannot come for me today.

But perhaps you should've learned, by now, that not even you can stop death.

The way that you creep back to your bedroom is careful, and you stop in every other room to close and latch the windows shut - just as a precaution, just as a final safeguard.

The tension that sits in your shoulders and keeps your body taut has begun to ease a bit, and you've begun to feel like you can breathe again for the first time all morning, when you step back into the doorway of your bedroom.

That's when you see it. Your bedroom window has been opened, and the glass of water on your nightstand, right next to the window, has been knocked over, spilling onto the hardwood floor.

So it's then that you realize… you'd gotten the window wrong. He slinks through the shadows, you know, only appearing right before the death. If you'd just stayed in your room… he never would've just climbed into your home right in front of you.

Your hands begin to tremble and your breath freezes in your lungs as you realize that you only thought that you were closing him out, while you were really just letting him in.

And then it really hits you. 

There's something in your home, and it's here to kill you. 

You stand, frozen, your breath stuttering in and out as you stare at the open window and the cool morning breeze that wafts in, blowing your curtains out into billowing waves. You stand and you wait and you consider all of the places he could be hiding, all of the ways that he could climb out of the shadows and drain the life from you.

But time ticks by… seconds into minutes and nothing… happens. There's no sight of him, no noise of him. It's like he's not even really there. You begin to think, in a rather hysterical sort of way, that perhaps you really have just gone crazy, perhaps there's never been anything here at all. 

When your doorbell rings and the sound echoes shrilly through your home, it's enough to make you jump, your heart clenching painfully as you spin around to peer down your hallway and eye your front door. It's not real, you think. He's not real. You go to step out of your bedroom, chanting the mantra over and over in your head, but it's not quite loud enough to distract from the noise that can be heard from somewhere behind you - a rustling, soft sort of thing. 

By the time you've spun around to face the window again, it's been… shut. The window's shut and your glass is placed carefully back in its rightful place on your nightstand. And you swear… you swear that you see a blur of bluish-black feathers zipping away out of the corner of your eye.

The days begin to crawl on after that, the city curling in on itself and crushing you in a way that it never has before. You start sleeping with your windows locked, of course, circling the interior of your home day after day to make sure that every latch is secure and every curtain is drawn. But try as you might, there is nowhere for you to run from the visions, and they morph into spiralling images of his large, clawed hands tapping and scraping at the glass of your windows, begging to be let in. 

"Look, you really can't be here," the officer's voice is dull in your mind, somewhere far off and vacant.

"Hm?" you acknowledge as you crane your neck to look past him, staring at the yellow tape circling the newest crime scene in a tangled maze-like pattern. 

"Just… go home. You shouldn't see this. No one should." That makes you pause, makes you look at the officer and blink and stare until he sighs and wanders off.

No one should have to see this, you think, his words ringing through your mind. But you do see it, nonetheless. 

Go home, he says, the weight of it all echoing through you. How could you? When the Mothman haunts your dreams and threatens to claw his way into your home at night? You see it still, every time that you close your eyes  - countless swirling images of him in your apartment. They confuse you, and it makes you groan and rub your temples with your fingers as the officer glances back at you where you stand on the sidewalk, ever the onlooker, ever the bystander.

This accident… you'd seen this one too, of course. And you'd seen him, the Mothman. It's the same every time. He appears in your visions, looming like a towering symbol, and then someone dies. Every time. Every time except…

You clear your throat, rubbing a hand over the back of your neck as you stare out through the city, the moon beginning to arch high in the night sky as stars blink in and out overhead. 

These visions of the two of you are different. He never kills you, he never hurts you. He comes into your home, time and time again, but it's… gentle. A vicious, clawed hand smoothing delicately over your cheek. Lips pressed against your forehead. His wings wrapping around you as he pulls you close. The two of you in your bed and he -

A car honks somewhere near you, another one of Gotham's near-constant scuffles as tires swerve down the darkened, busy street. It's enough to make you jump, though, ripping you from the daydream that you'd found yourself in.

"Are you alright?"

"What?" you snap, flinching as you find the young officer standing next to you again.

"You look flushed," he points out. "It's like - are you blushing?"

"No!" you all but shout. "I'm going home." He might have responded to you, then. He may have shouted after you, some comment about how that's what he's been trying to get you to do the whole time. But you're not listening, too busy stomping away as images of the hulking, feathered creature plague your mind.

It's that night, of course, that you get a new vision. It's just as confusing as they always are, a tangled mess of images and objects jumbling together in your mind. You catch glimpses of your window - and you're sure that it really is the living room now. You see his clawed, feathered hand slamming against the glass of a window pane. You see the broken shards and the opening that's left behind. You see… a trail of blood on some of the sharp edges and you know that it must be yours.

Fortunately, it's Gotham, so it's not really out of the ordinary to want to install metal bars on your window. When you stumble out of bed just as the sun is beginning to climb up beyond the impossible wall of fog, it's with the intent of sealing your apartment off, closing your home off from the outside world. 

The city outside has begun to crush you, and you realize it, in a far-off, unfazed kind of way, when you begin installing bars onto the windows in your home. It's a cursed, entangled sort of place, and you can feel it start to ensnare you, getting tighter and tighter and tighter. 

First, it's your bedroom that's sealed off, then your kitchen, then your bathroom. One by one, every opening that you have to something beyond yourself is closed off, shut out, put away, until it's nothing but you and the nightfall and the large, looming presence of your living room window.

Easy to buy, yes, but difficult to install, you realize, as you struggle to wield the hefty metal. It shouldn't be a surprise, really, that one of the bars slips from your grasp and topples into the window. You should've seen it coming, you think ruefully, as you lunge to catch it just a moment too late, watching as it shatters through the glass, instead. 

But there's a panic in you now, as the cold night air comes swirling into your home, the window now a gaping maw letting in the city outside and below. You scramble a bit, the alarm of it all making you hazy as you reach for the metal bar, missing it to instead cut your palm on the broken glass of the window. 

You find yourself reeling, then, as you stare at the jagged edge that's now glistening with your blood, as you look down to your palm, oozing red and dripping down your arm and onto your floor, and you realize that this is what you'd seen in your vision.

But it's then that you hear it - that eerie, familiar tapping and scratching at the glass. The air freezes a bit more, it feels, as your breath catches in your lungs and your heart stutters. There's a part of you that thinks that perhaps, if you don't look up, it won't be real.

So it's against your better judgement, then, that you lift your head in a slow, shaky movement, letting your eyes trail up and up and up until -

Until you're faced with a huge, feathered hand, blackened claws curling around the broken glass and reaching into your home from the opening that you'd created. Night has truly fallen outside, rendering the world invisible as it's shrouded in darkness. You can't see him, can't make out anything other than the hand stretching out from the impossibly endless night. 

But the lamp on your living room end table flickers out a dull, yellow light, illuminating your figure for him. You may not be able to see him, but he can see you, and he reaches with a sharp, curling movement toward you. 

It hits you again, in that moment, terrified as you are. In all of your efforts to keep him away, you've let the Mothman right into your home. The further you pushed, the clearer the way in became.

There's some sort of commotion on the road below, then, it seems - some kind of accident, most likely, as there are shouts and honking horns and screeching tires. The noise of it all jerks you into action, makes you jerk back and stumble away as blood drips down your arm and your vision swims with panic. 

But it makes the Mothman startle, too, it would appear, as he pulls his arm back to slam his hand against the glass, just like he had in your vision. By the time you've scrambled forward to stare out the window, he's just… gone. 

You peer down towards the street from your window and see some sort of situation on the road below, people already gathered around what you're sure has to be a body lying on the sidewalk as police sirens wail in the distance.

It hits you, then, like a cold, dead hand clamping down on your heart. You brought the Mothman here. You gave him a reason to be here, and surely he's killed again right here because of you. The thought makes your knees buckle, and you slide down toward your floor until you're sitting on the cold hardwood as the epiphany of it all slams into you. 

No matter what you do, no matter where you go, he finds you. All of the effort that you're putting into keeping him away, all of the walls you're building up and the defences that you're crafting - you seem to actually just be bringing him closer. Somehow, in this twisted, tangled city, you've found a way to spiral around each other endlessly, your hands around each other's throats and doom carved into each other's hearts.

Instead of you haunting him, he's haunting you, now. You can't fight it. You can't stop it. You can't change fate. So you decide, as you sit on your floor with your palm oozing blood and the sounds of Gotham's chaos rolling in through your broken window - you decide, then, that you'll just run away. Surely, you think. Surely, there's only so far that he can chase you. 

"Look, really, are you alright?" the officer speaking to you squints at you a bit, eyeing you through the haze of dusk as the sun sets on another accident, another crime scene, another death. "Are you… ok?" 

You're trying to listen to him, really, you're trying to nod and smile and tell him that everything's fine. You want everything to be fine. But the problem is the vision that you'd woken up with, the one that had left you gasping and gripping your chest and tearing at your hair. 

It was a vision of him, of the young, green officer in front of you who'd spent these past months watching you spiral into nothing. You'd seen him, in vague, spinning flashes, getting into his car and driving home late into the night.

You'd seen the collision somewhere downtown, on one of the large main roads. You'd seen his car, crumpled and smoking as sirens wailed in the distance.

You'd seen him die, you're sure of it. 

"There's been an accident," you blurt out, and he raises his brows and glances around.

"Yes," he says slowly. "I know. That's… why we're here. You don't need to be, though."

"No, I -" you pause, searching frantically for something to say, some kind of lifeline to grab onto in this endless, gnawing place. "I mean - a different one. I hear that, uh, a couple of the main roads have been blocked off. Horrible traffic, it would take forever to get through."

"Oh," he says slowly, his hands a bit outstretched towards you, as if he's afraid that you'll suddenly keel over from whatever's afflicting you, whatever is giving you those shifting, panicked eyes and making you shuffle on your feet. "What, in this area?"

"Hm?"

"The accident," he reminds patiently.

"Yes!" you say, snapping your fingers. "Yea, uh, right… right up in, uh, that direction." He turns to follow your pointed finger, glancing down the street as you clear your throat and look at him expectantly.

"Huh," he says, a bit of understanding dawning on him. "Another Tim Drake problem, then."

"What?" 

"Drake. You know, he's that guy everyone around here talks about. More money than morals, works near here."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say bluntly before you bite your tongue, cursing yourself as the shadows spiral overhead and the city leers at you, the buildings closing in around you. 

"That… must have been what the accident was about, right?" the officer continues, suspicion creeping back into his voice. "You know… you know they say he's trying to find a way to bring back the dead."

"Beg your pardon?" you ask weakly.

"Yea," he responds easily, and you can tell from the sigh in his voice that he doesn't actually believe it. They never do. "He's a real mad scientist."

"You can't," you falter. "That's impossible. What's dead… stays dead."

"Apparently not," he quips back, but at your ashen face and swaying posture, he places a gentle hand onto your shoulder. "Hey, I'm - I'm only joking. He just causes a lot of problems for us, is all."

"Right," you respond shortly, forcing out a laugh that has his concern growing. "It's just, uh, it's just a normal accident up there tonight. Car crash, I heard. You know."

"Hm," he shrugs, pulling his hand away from you to cross his arms over his chest. "Yea, there's a few too many of those these days."

"I just think that, uh," you continue on, your eyes darting around the street, glancing at the towering buildings that loom high up above you. You rub a hand over your forehead roughly when you catch, or you think you catch the flickering shadow of a wing out of the corner of your eye. "I just think that the bridge is a better route to take tonight. If, you know, you - I mean… it's - it's the way that I'll be going… because of, uh, the accident, remember?"

"No," he says gently, his voice slow and a bit halting as he watches you with concern. "I… I don't remember that, because I don't even know… well… uh, thank you. You, um, you be careful out there, alright? Get home safely."

"Hey," you laugh, a hysterical sort of thing as a shadow flashes overhead and you duck a bit. "You be careful, you know?"

"What?" he asks, the bewilderment creeping up on him a bit too much, the unease of it all crawling up his arms and beginning to wrap around his throat as the city curls inward and casts darkness onto the two of you and the sun dips far enough below the horizon that its precious light is lost once more. "No, I - do you need a ride home?"

"No!" you all but shout. "No, sorry, uh, no, my car is just parked around the corner… and I'm leaving now." You spin around at that, walking swiftly down the winding, cracked sidewalk until you find your car, all but ripping open the door to climb in as the officer watches, bewilderment and concern carved onto his face. 

You're not sure how long you sit in your car after that, your hands gripping the steering wheel as you place your forehead against your knuckles and force deep breaths in and out of your lungs. Time drips on and you see, out of the corner of your eye, the city continues to darken as night wears on and the crime scene is wrapped up, police leaving in flashes of blue and red and blue again. 

But you've done it this time, you're sure. You've been quicker, you've been smarter. You've cheated death of another victim - held back the Mothman, if only for a single night. 

It makes sense to you, of course, for you to take the bridge home, yourself. The threat of the Mothman is an ever-present weight bearing down on your shoulders and you can feel yourself scrambling, like a prey animal finally caught in a trap, to try to get away from him. With the memories of your visions still rolling through your mind endlessly, it feels only right to finally settle yourself in the driver's seat and begin to turn away, away from the main roads and the locations of your nightmares and the looming, hulking, shadow of the Mothman.

Surely, you think. Surely, this time, I'll rewrite fate just enough to make it matter. Surely, this time, something will change.

There's a sort of anguish in you, then, when you arrive at the bridge and have to slam on your brakes and bring your car to a screeching halt. It's a misery that burns you, that crawls up your throat and strangles you as the tangled web of the city closes in further. 

The police are already there, illuminating the depths of the night with their lights as they circle a car crash. It's a cop car, in fact, that's part of the collision, crumpled and smoking and warped under the endless darkness of night. 

And it's his car, that lovely young officer that you'd spoken to so many times. It's his licence plate, as clear as it had been in your visions. 

Sirens wail through the foggy air and water rushes under the bridge and your heart hammers so loudly that you swear to god it could beat out of your chest in a minute. 

Beyond the accident, beyond the cars and the police that swarm the scene, beyond the death that permeates the air and rots the ground beneath you… beyond all of that stands the Mothman, huge and terrifying and staring straight at you. 

No one else can see him, you assume - the idea that you'd toyed with for so long finally coming to life. No one can see him but you. He stands still, unmoving, unbreathing, unflinching, his feet solid on the dark asphalt as his wings spread so wide that they brush against the sides of the bridge.

He stands, like an omen of death, like a symbol of your neverending failures, and he stares at you with glowing, yellow, unblinking eyes. 

An officer knocks on your car window and you scream, a short, shrieking noise until you snap your head around to look at him and sigh. He says something as he shines his flashlight into your car, but you just shake your head and roll down the window.

"Pardon?" you ask, your voice cracking. You're not looking at him, though. Your eyes are still trained, instead, on the presence of the Mothman, the mass of black feathers and razor-sharp claws and bright, yellow eyes boring into you. 

"You've got to move along," the officer repeats. "We're trying to get the ambulances through here, those drivers need medical attention."

"Medical attention?" you all but shout, ripping your eyes away from the Mothman to stare at the cop who's leaning down to talk through your window. "They're alive?"

"Yes…" he says slowly. "It wasn't a terrible accident. But - please, we really need you to move along. If you need to cross the bridge, that's fine. Just go now and go quickly, will you?" When you look ahead of you again, the Mothman is still there, standing like a statue guarding the tightrope between life and death.

It doesn't make sense, you think as you roll up your window without another word, driving ever so slowly past the officer and across the bridge. It doesn't make sense. If he's not here to kill someone else, then who…

Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly enough that the leather creeks as you pass the scene of the accident, staring at the creature right ahead of you the entire time. You're going slowly, practically crawling over the bridge as the Mothman stares down at you, still unmoving. 

It's not until you're close enough to almost hit him that he finally shifts ever so slowly, stepping to the side so that he can watch as you drive past him. You don't look, of course, your breath stuttering as you keep your head facing forward, knowing that his yellow eyes are fixed on you as you drive past. When his wings, still outstretched and menacing, scrape their feathers across the side of your car, you suck in a shaky breath and wonder what it's like to die.

But nothing… happens. You drive on, over the bridge and away from the scene, and the Mothman simply stares, fixed in his spot, as you disappear down the winding, twisting road. Here, on the outskirts of Gotham, the large manor houses loom over you as the city retreats behind you and disappears in the thick, foggy night and the rolling tides of the water. It's greener here, trees sprouting up into forests in tangled, maze-like patterns, and there's something in you that makes you take a sharp turn, heading toward the woods. 

He's been following you, you know, trailing after you this entire time. You catch glimpses of him out of the corner of your eye as you drive, seeing the flicker of his shadow overhead, hearing the flutter of his feathered wings. It makes a sort of desperation begin to swirl in you, a panic begin to fester in your mind as you begin to drive into the shadowed forest.

When the trees are too densely packed for your car, you merely park and throw open your door, stumbling as you continue on foot. Any other time, any other person would say that this is crazy, that you're some poor, lost soul stumbling to their death, likely to freeze or starve somewhere in the woods after straying too far from home. 

But you've been far too lost for far too long to stop now, and running away, you're beginning to realize, might be all that you really know how to do. 

Perhaps you shouldn't be surprised, really, that you run directly into the creature, somewhere deep in the depths of this impossible forest. Perhaps coming face-to-face with him really was always going to happen, and none of the erratic twists and turns you took could have ever prevented it.

Perhaps, you think as he stands in front of you, huge and terrifying and dark as the night, his eyes shining in the haze, perhaps there is really nothing that you can do against fate.

You think that maybe you should run, maybe you should try endlessly to scramble away from this… to defy the inevitable. You're shifting on your feet, bracing yourself to bolt away from him, when he speaks, and the sound makes you freeze. 

"You cannot run from this any more than I can," he says clearly, and his voice is a low, smooth rumble. You stare at him, eyes wide as the air leaves your lungs in a punched-out gasp, and he continues. "That is the curse. You cannot run, you cannot hide… you cannot break it."

"Who are you?" you ask weakly.

"You know what I am," is his only response.

"Who are you?" you repeat, your voice louder this time as you step forward. He blinks, his yellow eyes glowing through the night, as you squint at him. "Or is your only name Death?"

"I… am not death," he says slowly, a frown tugging on his lips as you continue to walk toward him. When you get close enough and crane your head back to look up at him, you can even see his face under all of the feathers and shadows, and he looks… he looks almost human underneath it all. "My name is Damian… and I am nothing more than an omen."

You're not sure what possesses you to reach up, leaning onto your toes so that you can reach for his face, brushing feathers away until you can see him clearly. Smooth skin and downturned lips, furrowed brows and his eyes, his bright yellow eyes staring at you through the darkness. 

"An omen?" you repeat questioningly. He hums in affirmation, his knees slightly bent and his shoulders and back hunched so that you can let one of your hands smooth across his face. 

"I see them, these deaths," he continues in his low, rumbling voice. "I watch, but I cannot change. You… you understand this, do you not?" You huff out a surprised breath at his words, jerking back like you've just remembered yourself and stumbling to create distance between the two of you. He straightens at your actions, watching you carefully as you twist your hands together and feel, as if for the first time, the biting cold of the night. 

"You're killing those people," you say harshly, but he merely stares.

"I am not… any more than you are."

"What?" you say, and you feel the air freeze in your lungs. "I'm not - I didn't kill anyone. I just - I keep seeing it and I'm… I'm trying to stop it, I'm trying to save people but I don't -"

"You are not responsible," he speaks over you, and you swear that you hear an exasperated sigh from somewhere deep within him. "That is our curse… you must watch, but you cannot change. It does not ever change."

"Then why…" you falter, searching frantically for some sort of answer, some sort of way out of this tangled snare. "Why were you there? Why are you here?"

"I am an omen," he repeats. "Where death trails through, I am to appear."

"That's it?" you say weakly. "You just… you stand and you watch? Over and over again?"

"You…" he says slowly, "would understand that, I think." You laugh at that, a high-pitched, hysterical sort of noise that makes a bird somewhere nearby squawk.

"Yea, uh, I guess - I guess I would," you say as you rub a hand over your forehead in a harsh way, squeezing your eyes shut. You try to breathe deeply for a moment, try desperately to move the freezing air through your lungs, but there's something in you that's strangling you, that's tugging at your heart and making it beat strangely in your chest.

You're just starting to consider that maybe you really should just be thrown into Arkham when a hand, huge and clawed and ever so gentle, wraps around your wrist and brings your palm away from your face. When you look up at him with wide eyes, he's staring down at you, hunched over so that he can be close to your face.

"Why are you hunting me like this?" you ask quietly, your voice a tired whisper. His brows furrow together and he frowns again.

"I'm… courting you."

"…Pardon?"

"We understand each other, I think," he explains, straightening to look down at you while he keeps his fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist. His wings arc out behind him, blocking out the moon and the small sliver of brightness that it had blessed you with. 

"I don't… think we do," you respond hesitantly, but he just shakes his head.

"It is a curse, this life… to see but not speak, watch but not move. It is… lonely, this life. It is lonely to be us."

"So what, we…" you let your eyes dart around as his words wrap around you and make your head spin. "We just… I don't know, what, we're not alone when we're together, I suppose?"

"It is true," he says simply. "We are not alone in this place… you are not alone with me by your side."

"I thought you were trying to kill me!" you shout, pulling your arm away from his grip. He lets you, much to your shock, making a low, panicked sort of sound when he can't loosen his grip fast enough and his claws scrape against his skin. Your hand's already bandaged from the incident with your broken window, and now long, angry, red lines curl across your skin from him. 

"I have never killed anyone," he says quickly - firmly. "I have not."

"I thought -," but you cut yourself off, burying your face into your hands to let out choppy, shuttering breaths. The creature makes another pained, whining sort of sound and when you peek between your fingers, he's kneeling in front of you so that you're face-to-face, and his eyes… his eyes look so human as he stares at you with agony.

"I would never hurt you," he says firmly, but then his eyes glance down at the scrapes on your hand and he shrinks back. "Not - not on purpose. I would never lay a hand on you like that." You take a deep, shaky breath and look at him, your breath coming out in foggy gasps from the cold.

"What were you doing on the bridge tonight, then?" you ask firmly. "Why didn't that cop die?"

"I was not there for him," he says simply, frowning at you. "I was there for you."

"Then why did I see it? I saw him die -"

"Did you?" the creature cuts you off gently. "Or did you just… see him crash?"

"Well, I -," you falter, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment as if to try to see the visions again before looking at Damian once more. "I… the visions are always of death. Always except for that one and -"

"And?" he prompts. You just press your lips together, flashes of your visions with Damian running through your mind. 

"How can you think that something like this could ever work?" you ask tiredly, a weak distraction as you let your forehead thump against his feathered shoulder and revel in the warmth that radiates from him. He rumbles somewhere deep in his chest and he spreads his wings further to wrap around the two of you, cocooning you in heat and darkness as his eyes bathe you in a yellow glow. 

"Is there a reason why it should not?" he asks in return, letting one of his hands find your waist while the other lifts to your cheek so that he can stroke a knuckle across your skin. You huff a bit at his easy demeanour, but with your eyes closed all that you can think of are those visions.

"I - I've seen you," you admit.

"You have?" he asks mildly.

"Yes. I've seen you - us. I've seen…" but you trail off, thankful that the darkness can hide the heat raging in your cheeks.

"You're blushing, beloved," he points out, though, and you curse yourself for not thinking that of course he can see through the impossible darkness of the night. 

"Shut up," you respond quickly.

"Not… death visions, then, I suppose?" he asks, and your eyes narrow at the playful, near-smug way that he speaks. 

"Not quite," you grit out. 

"Well, that is delightful, is it not?" he says smoothly, his voice keeping that deep, low, rumble as he leans back to look at you more clearly. "That you've accepted me?"

"I have not," you say stubbornly, but you bury your face into his feathers again, hiding your face from view while he laughs. 

"Well, that is alright," he says soothingly, brushing a hand over the back of your head. "Is this a rejection? If it is not, I'll keep trying." You grumble something under your breath, turning his words over and over and over in your mind. Would it be so bad, you think, to not be alone?

"It's… it's not. It's not a rejection," you say weakly, and when you lift your head to look at him once more, you learn that monsters can still smile. 

It's several months later, past the time of year when the cold fully sets in, and then even further past when it begins to thaw - it's then, when the ground shifts as warmth rolls in and fog begins to get muggy and sticks to your skin, that you find yourself curled up on a little fold out chair on your fire escape. You're sitting with your legs propped up on the chair with the rest of you so that you can lean your chin on your knee and stare up at the stars, at the endless pricks of light that sit just beyond the reach of this terrible, cursed city. 

It's been one of those nights, where the visions just won't leave and they wrap around you and squeeze until you're tossing and turning and gasping for breath. It's one of those nights where you wonder why it's you who's cursed, why it's you who feels so caught in the tangled thread of life and death that runs through this city. 

It's one of those nights where you think, rather desperately, that there must be some way to change what you are and what's laid out ahead of you. 

But it is a bit different already, you suppose, as a fluttering shadow stretches overhead and you glance up to see the outstretched wings of the Mothman as he swoops and dives through the darkened night sky.

It is different, because there's a new routine that you and Damian have now, where you catch each other when one of you stumbles and falls. 

It is different, if for nothing other than the fact that neither of you face death alone. 

"What's wrong, my love?" Damian's voice rings down from somewhere above you, deep and smooth as you feel the warm night air swirling while his wings beat. He's rather graceful as he lands, perched on the railing of your fire escape, the weight of him making the metal groan and creak underneath him.

"What are you doing here?" you quip, but there's no real bite in your voice as you stand and lean into him, letting him wrap an arm around your waist while you press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

"Can't you sleep?" he asks in lieu of answering. When you sigh heavily and shake your head, a frown tugs at his lips and his yellow eyes blink down at you.

"Not tonight," you answer quietly, and you shrink in on yourself just a bit. The action is enough to make an empathetic whine sound from his chest before he wraps you fully in his arms and lifts you off of your feet.

"I'll stay with you," he says simply, but you huff a bit in his arms as he settles where you'd been sitting before, letting you curl into his lap while he wraps his wings around the two of you, sealing you into a little hold of safety against the looming horror of the city beyond the two of you. 

"Damian, you don't have to…" you trail off, and he looks at you pointedly when you sink into the warmth of his embrace, relaxing in his hold. 

"But why wouldn't I?" he asks simply. You do nothing but squirm and shrug a bit, toying with some of the feathers that cover his chest. 

"Isn't there somewhere else to be?" you ask quietly. A laugh rumbles from him as you press your face into his neck and bury your hands into the soft, bluish-black feathers. 

"Like where?" he asks, a hint of mirth in his voice. "Out there? Staring death in the face? What a thing to do when I have you right here." He says it so simply, always. And you suppose that, really, he's right.

Sometimes life, you suppose, just… is what it is. Sometimes there is no fighting what you are. But why do it alone? Why not do it right here, in the arms of a monster who's learned how to love?

[bleedingcoffee42]

Do you think any of the people professionally involved with Band Of Brothers ever wondered about the exact nature of the relationship between Nixon and Winters? I'm reading the Dick Winters interview transcript where he talks about Nixon for several pages, and it caught my eye how the interviewer calls it a "different kind of relationship", "it's very curious", etc. Or the things Ron Livingston has said (asking Winters to prom, etc.)

GOD YES. I firmly believe that these acting choices that built this fandom came directly from how Dick Winters talk about his best friend. Not only that, but Dick did NOT object to what he saw on screen except for that boy in Paris.

BUT Dick Winters was on a untouchable level where everyone was not only obeying orders but trying to not to tarnish anything or piss him off. It's not until years later anyone admits they liked Speirs more. I think everyone also wanted to respect it, keep the focus on the war story and used it to enhance that bond they were trying to demonstrate.

And most of those interviews were definitely leaving those questions open ended for him to come out and say more. An honestly what he does say, especially in how critical he can be of everyone else, kinda says what he really couldn't or wouldn't. And then there are the photos. LORD. But yeah, I really think there was a "'So, we agree, these two guys were in love right?" conversation between Damian and Ron when they started talking about how they play this thing.

IRL guys...well I've been thinking about how odd it is that Nix has a huge island farm out in California he gets Hester to run, but Dick "My goal in life is to have a farm" Winters is out in Central Pa cutting rocks by hand to build a house, living in a house without water, working like crazy to make it all happen by his own hand when his best friend already got him a job when he came home and has no problem making jobs exclusively for him.

I don't know that Dick ever realized what Nix was to him (That West Virginia hitchhiking story makes it clear Dick knew men swung that way but he's got a fixation on image that I don't know he could ever shake. I think if he did we would have never heard some of these stories because he would be too protective of them.) but I think Nix did. I can't see an 'engraved knife with our initials in it like two lovers carving our names on a tree' being something he wasn't aware of. I think he's more than aware of how people talk and still was by Dick's side when he had no reason to be. I also think Nix had something to do with Ron Speirs being right there when Dick needed an option when Dike locked up, especially after he assisted in getting Peacock shuffled back to the States. I think he took care of him better than he did his own wife, even if it was to shuffle pieces around the chess board to make things fall into place.

One thing is for sure, the men of Easy Co. know how to circle the wagons and protect their own. I don't know if we'll ever know the truth about what Dick said, because in being part of BoB, the actors were also brought into that circle of trust.

[mysanaf]

༄ "Weekly" Fic Round-Up ༄

This is inspired by @captainkirkk's weekly fic round-ups which I've found many a good fic from. This is also a collect of fic from all of December as well as this first week of January, but perhaps future round-ups will be more accurately named.

Fandoms: Batman, Batman X Marvel Crossover, Nine Worlds Series by Victoria Goddard

Batman

reset by Valkirin

Black Mask hires Circe to keep Red Hood out of his way for a week. Circe's spell will only last a week and she doesn't think Batman will notice or care that she placed a time-limited memory spell on a minor criminal. Fifteen-year-old Jason Todd wakes up in a future he doesn't understand.

No pressure by Valkirin

Tim starts his night trying to calm down a graduate student with a ray gun. He has no idea that he is part of a time loop. Future Tim (which will be him in three minutes) won a second round of the Titans Tower fight and managed to put Jason on the path to coming home. Past Tim didn't do much other than think he was dreaming when he met a much calmer Jason. Future Tim decided that three minutes was plenty of time to figure out just get everything right and stabilize a time loop on the first try. No pressure.

best laid plans by Valkirin

Tim Drake knows that Batman needs a Robin. When Bruce and Dick aren't interested in what he has to say, Tim makes his way to the cemetery to say a few words to the boy he's trying to replace. Tim has the chance to say far more than he expected when Jason digs himself out of his grave that night. Tim does his best to get Jason home to Bruce. The League of Assassins finds them first.

Redrawing the Lines by BirdChild

Dick finds out that Damian cut Tim's line.

To Be a Bandaid by something_dog

Tim Drake never actually wanted to become part of the Robin-Batman-vigilante outfit. No, really. But the last Robin up and died, and now Batman is going crazy, and no one else is doing anything about it, so...Tim decides to become Robin. He might as well, right? At the very least it'll give him something to do while his parents are gone. Still, Tim's not taking up the mantle until he can put a couple of things in order. Step one? Making sure the Joker can't get it into his head to kill another Robin. Not ever again. (Good thing Tim's not the one with a 'no killing' rule.) And then after that? Well, after that it's only just a matter of keeping Batman from learning Tim's identity and subsequently chasing him off. Not until Bruce can get back on his feet and pick a new Robin, a real one this time. Easy-peasy. Sort of.

just me against the sky by magneticwave

Tim Drake stops stalking Gotham’s nocturnal wildlife when she goes to college. Unfortunately, they don’t return the favor.

A Request:

If anyone has any Cassandra Cain focused fics they love please send them my way, I haven't found any and I'm starving 🥺

Batman X Marvel Crossover

Shake the Devil Out of Me by thepartyresponsible

The first time Jason sees Phil Coulson, he sees him in the soft, flickering light of a warehouse fire. It’s romantic, he thinks, later. Like candlelight.

Do Every Stupid Thing by thepartyresponsible

Jason doesn’t mean for the Winter Soldier to be a present for Tony Stark. The youngest Stark isn’t supposed to be involved at all. The plan is simple: intervene before the Winter Soldier can murder Howard and Maria, tranq the Winter Soldier until he’s sufficiently incapacitated, and then drag him off for further study and let the Starks carry on with their fraught, bourgeoisie bullshit.

Nine Worlds Series by Victoria Goddard

the long way home by ariex09

If Cliopher had to sit around twiddling his thumbs he would lose his mind. “I’m going to legalize the rest of Fitzroy Angursell’s poetry,” he said, without entirely meaning to. To Aioru’s widened eyes and Ludvic’s raised eyebrows, he said, “I need a project, it’s non-essential to government functioning, and he’s Zunidh’s poet laureate now. Having half of his works be illegal for sedition is absurd.” - A political crisis in Nijan prevents Cliopher from retiring after the landslide and reuniting with Fitzroy. What it can't prevent is Cliopher and Fitzroy being ridiculous about each other from worlds apart.

[i-yap]

I have a Dick Grayson request!

I don't know if you do vigilante s/o but I was wondering if you did could you write how he would react when he finds out that the crazy person jumping off buildings with his alter ego is also his gn s/o? I always find the different takes on the reader finding out about Nightwing but I really want to know what you think his reaction would be?Anyways, this might not be something you'll write but I just figured I'd ask

Lots of love and admiration for you and your works

❤️

A compliment and a Dick grayson ask??omg made my day ( I promise he isn't my favorite I love them all equally)

Ive never really written vigilante reader..or even imagined one but I can try

Dick Grayson x vigilante!s/o

s/n- supername

"There's an armed robbery at the children's hospital on 34th" reported Tim onto the batcom.

"I can get there in 5" replied Dick.

"Take hood with you, he's on 39th " Ordered Batman

"I don't need a babysitter..especially not hood"

"HAHA, Ill be there as soon as I'm done beating up this creep who was cornering pretty girls" Jason says cheekily.

"wait ..I dont think i need you here hood, or even I'm needed..S/n got here first. She's tying up the perps as we speak"

"Unmask her Nightwing, even I couldnt figure out her identity and she has been spotted in too many crimes around gotham" said Oracle

"You can't passible think THE s/n is a criminal" tim replied shocked

"Haha timmy has a thing for s/n just cause she was caught buying rock shirts from the shady stores he loves" Jason teases

" NO REAL NAMES ON THE COMS JASON, also Oracle is right. Best to be precautionary" states Batman.

Nightwing approaches s/n. "OH JEEZ, hi your scared me haha. Not that you're scary. You're really hot , I mean your partner probably finds you hot but not me. I'm just random vigilante...Uh anyways Ive called the police they're on their way so I think my work here is done!" You say hurriedly after spotting your boyf-nightwing approaching you.

"Well good work here s/n. But I actually had to speak to you alone. " "Me? why??"

"I need you to unmask yourself. Batman's orders . You cant trust me, you know I'm one of the good guys and we have been on multiple cases together. Plus you are kind of in my city"

" Well I- dick listen." "How do you -" You take off your mask to reveal yourself.

"I was about to tell you dickie..please don't be mad" "MAD? ME? MY SWEETHEART IS A CRIME FIGHTING ASS KICKING SUPERHERO! I KNEW YOU WERE TOO STRONG TO BE A BARISTA!. I mean I do wish you told me before" "I just didn't know how you would take it. You always talked about how much you loved our domestic intimacy and simplicity in our relationship and i-" Dick takes your hands in his "We can still have that baby, just because you are a superhero doesn't change anything. Youre still the best thing that ever happened to me and now we can even spend more time together as our alter ego. We would be a great power couple!" Says dick, pulling you into a passionate kiss.

"EW EW THE ROMANTIC SPEECH WAS GROSS BUT KISSING NOISES?" Yells jason into the coms

" NO DICK HOW COULD YOU, MY SUPERCRUSH MAN" Cries out tim

"shit i forgot to turn off my comms" whines dick

"NO REAL NAMES ON THE COMS !" Orders Bataman

"Bring her to the manor once you have discussed the - the revelation. There is much to talk about" Says Batman.

"I'm Surprised Y/n is even real" Joins in Damian.

"WHY WOULD I LIE ABOUT HAVING A PARTNER" yells Nightwing into the comms while you try to muffle your laugh.

"Well, I am no one to comment on your mental state NightWing, But it is questionable"

You pull away Dick from the comms before they all start bickering- and giving bruce a headache. Sure there was a lot to discuss but dick is the best batboy to be a vigilante partner to. He would be understanding and non restrictive and the perfect partner in fight. Communication is easy with him and he trusts you and gives you your space to be yourself. After all, its all these things that make him love you for you.

sorry if there is anything offensive i don't usually write gn!reader cuz I'm a cis female and I don't proof read. Also english is not my first language. Lmk if there's anything offensive and ill change it.

[phantom-dc]

Dad hood - part 3

After cooking up some breakfast for the 2 of them, Jason and Danny were eating at the table.

'So Danny. What do you like?' If the kid was going to stay with him, he might as well make it more comfortable for him. Jason had plenty money so getting the kid a nice room was no problem.

'SPACE!' Yelled Danny. 'I love space! I like the stars and the moon and the sun and the planets!'

Jason smiled: 'Yeah? How about meteors and asteroids?'

Danny frowned: 'I like meteors, but I don’t like asteroids. One nearly broke the earth. I like the Earth too! I don’t want it to be broken.'

Jason remembered that. Bruce had been in a frenzy. A large asteroid emitting a strange energy had nearly destroyed the Earth, when somehow, the Earth had turned invisible and the asteroid had just flown right through! He had been going crazy with theories until John Constantine had found out beings from a place known as the Infinite Realms had turned the whole planet untouchable under orders of their King. Rumors said some Lex Luthor wannabe had tries to use it to take over the world, but nothing had come up of it. The investigation had come up empty, and other cases took their focus. In the end, the file was never closed, but no one was working on it. Poor kid, he must’ve been so scared of losing his home. Suddenly the alarm went off, someone was trying to get inside! Jason quickly pushed Danny in a closet, telling him to hide. He grabbed his gun and headed to the window, pulling back the curtains and taking aim.

'FOR FUCKS SAKE, OLD MAN! Let me know beforehand if you want in!' Batman looked at him with that stupid stoic face, and Jason turned of the alarm. Deciding to be petty, he didn’t let him in, forcing B to pick the lock. When the Bat entered, Jason asked him what he was doing here. Batman said that Jason was the one to report Penguin’s warehouse last night. Jason confirms this, and asks why. Batman says something was taken from it, and he asks if Jason has it. Jason gets defensive, wanting Bruce out of his house. He didn’t take anything! So now B can leave, right? Suddenly they hear a thud, coming from the kitchen. Jason’s heart sinks. He doesn’t want B to know about the kid. Batman takes out a Batarang and heads to the kitchen, followed by Jason. Jason doesn’t say anything, knowing that any excuse he gives now would only make Bruce more suspicious. He knows that Bruce dislikes the Lazarus Pits. As much as it brought back his kids from the dead, he knows Bruce still hates it for bringing Jason back wrong. Bruce always said he loved Jason, but Jason could see it in his eyes. He’d never trusted Jason after that, not truly. Bruce grabs the closet’s doorhandle. Jason it going over excuses in his head. He needs to be able to explain things when he sees Danny. The door is opened.

The closet is empty.

Bruce puts the Batarang away, letting out a grunt. Jason asks him what he expected to find, aside from groceries.

Bruce turns away: 'A penguin.'

Jason is incredulous: 'A what?' Bruce admits the warehouse that Jason reported had 34 penguins, but only 33 made it to the Gotham Zoo.

Jason just looks at Bruce: . You know you have another Robin that’s a much more likely suspect, right? Damian is the animal lover, not me.. Bruce heads to the window. Jason knows that means he's ashamed: 'How long have you been awake, B?'

'… A week.'

Jason laughs at Bruce: 'Maybe the Batman needs to hit the hay. If not to get his detective skills back, then to set a good example for the Replacement!'

Bruce grunts, and grapples out the window. After waiting a few moments to check if he really left, Jason immediately runs back to the closet. He looks inside, asking for Danny.

'Danny? Danny, where are you?' He is very worried, when suddenly Danny pops up! Like, you blink and he is back! Jason actually falls backwards in surprise.

'TADAAH~! I hid! Did I do a good job? I’m the best at hiding!' says Danny happily.

Jason agrees, not wanting to ruin Danny’s good mood. He asks how he did that. Danny just asks this? And turns invisible. Jason picks him up, still invisible but giggling. Jason grabs a black notebook and puts Danny back in his chair. He writes down:

Accelerated healing

Invisibility

Looks like the LoA was not just making a second Respawn, but trying to improve on him with extra powers. 'Ok, a 5 year old that can turn invisible. That’s.. I can deal with that! Jason thought naively. He had no clue what was about to come.

First - Previous - Next - AO3

[bugaboo25]

I Will Forever Love You Chapter 3

Masterpost Prev

Thanks for all the kind words everyone, it's really helped keep my motivation up even though my schedule is absolutely crazy!

On to chapter 3:

Damian woke from his slumber as soon as the sun came up. Instead of remaining under his covers, he made his way to the restroom to prepare for the day. It was Saturday, yes, but weekends never meant relaxation for those in Wayne Manor. He grabbed his toothbrush, and, after lathering it to perfection, he began brushing his teeth. Slowly, Damian’s green eyes made their way to his reflection. His hand slowly came to a stop, and so he pulled the toothbrush from his mouth. His lips twitched down, so he stopped staring, stopped searching for a boy that shared his face and simply finished his morning routine.

            Once he was dressed, Damian sat on his bed. He reached underneath his mattress, pulling out a well-worn book. Damian allowed his fingers to trace the title: Cosmos by Carl Sagan. Even though he had no interest in the subject, he had read this book dozens of times. He flipped open the cover and stared at his neat handwriting, the last words his brother had ever spoken to him stared back at him. He sat in that manner for a good ten minutes, before flipping to the page that his bookmark currently resided on. He allotted himself twenty more minutes before he once again closed the novel. Damian never understood Danyal’s obsession with stars and the universe, but it was now the only way he could be close to his twin. Before he could carefully put the book back in its resting place, there was a knock on his door.

            “Baby Bird, I know you’re up!” Richard was knocking incessantly, so Damian placed his most prized possession on his desk, just out of sight of anyone that stood in the doorway. He opened the door, and Richard was immediately in his personal space. “Come on, the family’s going out for breakfast this morning, Alfred’s orders.” Damian cursed internally, if the butler had ordered they be seen in public for breakfast, then there was no possibility of not going. He allowed himself to be pulled out of his room, but not before shooting Danyal’s book a look of regret. He would have to place it back under his mattress when they returned, he just hoped Richard had not seen it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Dick pulled Damian down the stairs, not letting him go until he was under Alfred’s watchful eye. He laughed to himself, knowing there was no way for him to slip away now. He pulled out his phone, already setting his plot in motion. He shot off a quick text to Tim.

            Dickie: wanna mess with Dames?

            Timber: always

            Timber: what did you have in mind?

            Dickie: there was a book sitting on his desk, cosmos or something

            Dickie: I gots to know if he’s got a thing for astronomy

            Timber: dude

            Timber: no way, it’s worn and there’s writing in it

            Timber: I am not getting attacked by demon brat again

            Dickie: ugh fine what’s it say?

            Dick opened the picture that Tim sent, and he had to stifle the sound rising in the back of his throat. I will forever love you -D. What was that doing written in one of Baby Bird’s books? It was his handwriting, that’s for sure. But Damian never said I love you, none of them did. Which, okay, maybe he should put some effort into that, but there’s no way that book was meant for anyone. It was old and worn, and Dick could make out what seemed to be a bookmark at the top of the picture. Did he get it from someone? He must have, but the only person whose name started with D in this family aside from Damian were Dick and Duke, and he didn’t give him the book and Duke sure as hell didn't give it to him. He came to the conclusion that this would require further investigation, then sat down and waited for the rest of the family.

            Tim came into the kitchen after Duke, Cass trailing behind him. He caught Dick’s eye, but he simply raised an eyebrow as he made his way to the coffee pot. The door flung open, and if the people in the room had been any other family, they would have jumped. As it was, five sets of eyes turned to look at Jason as he wore a large grin. As time continued forward, the Pit Rage had calmed to a point where he only had episodes a couple times a month. With the knowledge that he had better learned to control it and it was happening less often, Jason had once again started hanging around the manor. Alfred must have invited him to breakfast, as he joined everyone else in waiting for Bruce.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Slipping into the limo with the rest of his family, Tim allowed himself to take some time to consider what he had done that morning. He had been so ready to use Cosmos to tease Damian, but as soon as he saw the state of the book and the neatly written words just inside the cover, he had decided against it. Obviously, the novel was important to Damian, but due to the lack of anything else related to astronomy in his room, he had to guess it was for more personal reasons. If the youngest of the Bats was anything, it was less than receptive when it came to talking about personal matters. He also didn’t want to give Damian any reason to start attacking him again. Sure, it had been years since the last time he was on the stabby end of his katana, and they had gotten to a point where Tim was comfortable teasing him, but he didn’t want to risk anything. If it had only been a book that showed the beginnings of a new hobby, then he would’ve gone to town on the annoying big brother role. But it was obvious from the old, definitely overused pages, that it was something more than that.

            Dick would try to pry. He always tackled opportunities to get to know more details about any of his siblings; but Tim would stay out of this. Honestly, he just hoped that he had managed to get the book back exactly as it had been left. Damian was perceptive, and he would definitely notice if his possessions were left even a centimeter out of place. They all would.

            “Allioop!” Dick came flying through the door, sprawling out across Tim and Jason, who had sat in the space beside him. Tim swatted at Dick’s hair, and Jason started lightly slapping at his stomach.

            “Get off, Dickface! Sit like a normal person, next to met not on me!” Jason was grumbling, a scowl sitting on his features. The fondness that was in his eyes was covered, but not unnoticeable to anyone that was in the vehicle. Tim took that second to check and sure enough, everyone had piled in during his musings. Cass, Damian, and Duke (who was snickering into his hand, the traitor) were sat on the opposite end of the limo, and Bruce was sat in the passenger seat next to Alfred.

            Dick pulled himself off of his brothers and threw his arm across his forehead, leaning against the seat and the door. “Oh woe is me, no one appreciates my fun.” He cracked an eye open, and the look he shot towards Jason and Tim was one filled with mirth and amusement.

            “I would refute, Richard, but your ‘fun’ often ends with you acting as a if you are a kicked puppy.” All eyes shot to Damian, because holy shit he just dissed one of them in a non-demeaning way. And was that a smile tugging at his lips? It was barely there but – oh my god, it was. Tim’s mouth dropped, because was the demon brat acting like part of the family? “Don’t strain yourself, Drake.” Damian’s tone was biting again, but the ghost of a smile was still on his face, so all Tim could do was make a choking noise as he snapped his jaw shut and looked out the window.

            Well, maybe breakfast wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Bruce made his way to the grandfather clock once they were back at the manor. He allowed himself a small smile, thinking back to the way his children had bickered and teased each other at the restaurant. He was delighted when he had seen Damian having to hold back a laugh after Dick’s fork had been drenched in syrup curtesy of Jason. He was finally beginning to feel as though his family was almost whole with the return of Jason and the breaking down of Damian’s walls.

            After slipping into his costume, Bruce set to work. He wanted to sigh, but Tim and Dick had just walked into the cave, whispering at each other. He raised his eyebrow at the hushed tones that stopped once they were in earshot of him. He would have to look into that later, collaborating in whispers between his children never led to positive outcomes.

            “Whatcha working on?” Dick never was one to be subtle, but he welcomed the olive branch. He would need help with this case, his suspect was eluding him at every turn, and it was starting to wear on him.

            “Vlad Masters.” He already had his files pulled up, so he clicked on the tab that had a picture of the man. He glared at the screen, hoping that the missing piece would reveal itself by just staring at the picture for a little longer. “He’s gone from low millionaire to high billionaire in just under two years. None of his business partners remember their meetings, only that they signed away at least half of their company before he was gone.”

            “You think he’s drugging them? Or maybe mind control?” Tim was taking his spot at the batcomputer, already starting his review of the files. Dick was watching over his shoulder, and he hoped that maybe they could find something they didn’t.

            Suddenly, Damian was flying over the edge of the stairs and hurling towards them. Bruce simply turned to look, and Dick was ducking away from the 16-year-old’s fist. “Did either of you imbeciles go in my room?” Damian’s tone was angry, though he didn’t attack again. He was getting better at controlling his temper, it seemed. Though, with the way Tim’s shoulders were ever so slightly tense, he guessed that he was the culprit.

            “Uh, yeah. It was me. Sorry, Dames, I wandered in this morning on accident. No sleep last night and no coffee yet. You know me. I think I nudged something on your desk, and that’s what kickstarted my brain. I left as soon as I noticed.” Tim’s voice was cool, but Bruce could detect the way his voice was just barely higher than normal. So, he was lying about the reason, then. He would have to ask later.

            Damian visibly relaxed, though he was still holding himself with respect. “Fine. Just do not repeat that mistake again in the future, or I will have your fingers.” With that, he was leaving the cave as quickly as he had come down. No doubt Alfred was forcing him to do his homework before he began any work in the cave.

            Bruce turned towards Tim with a raised eyebrow and the question on his face. “I saw something I shouldn’t have.” Huh, he must feel pretty guilty about it if he wasn’t even going to try to lie. “Just a book with a message. No big.” Tim was once again looking through the files on Masters.

            “Have you looked at any of his connections yet?” Bruce grunted, a silent yes. “What about those from college? It doesn’t seem like he has that many friends, though there’s a couple he used to spend his time with while he was getting his degree.” Another grunt, this time signaling that no, he had not checked his college friends out just yet. Tim opened another tab and pulled up a picture of a large man with black hair next to a shorter woman with ginger hair. They were both wearing ugly jumpsuits. Tim continued to scroll, and it was only a couple pictures down that they stopped.

            It was a picture of the Fenton family in a lab. Their daughter, 17 at the time of the picture if Bruce had to guess, was a perfect mix of her parents. She was tall, probably close to 6 feet, with teal eyes and the same hair color as her mother. It was the son that had garnered their attention, though. Because staring at them through the screen was Damian, but a Damian with eyes the exact same shade of blue as Bruce’s and a large grin. His hair was longer, and he was wearing a black hoodie with stains and a ghost symbol hovering over the word ‘Boo!’, but there was no mistaking the skin tone, or the eye shape, or the nose. That was Damian’s face with an unknown expression and different eyes, and it took the three men in the room longer to collect themselves than it should have.

            “Please tell me you’re seeing what I’m seeing.” Dick was the first to speak, his eyes shifting between Bruce and the boy on the screen. “Please tell me I’m not going crazy and seeing Dami in the place of a completely different kid.”

            “You’re not going crazy.” Tim’s reply was shallow, garbled by the confusion that laced his features. Bruce wasn’t sure what to make of this situation, but Tim was already tapping away, pulling up all the information that he could. “Daniel James Fenton. Age 16. He was adopted by the Fenton family seven years ago… today. He didn’t give anything other than his first name. Just wandered into Amity Park, Illinois with a… with a sword?”

            “Hn.” Bruce wanted to lean towards the clone theory, but what would the League of Assassins have to gain with creating a clone of Damian and then sending him to American for seven years?

            “It could just be a coincidence, you know.” Dick was calming himself down, his breathing was slowing. “There are supposed to be seven people in the world that look like you.”

            “Yeah, plus, look at his eyes. They aren’t the same color!” Tim was almost screaming now. “Totally just a coincidence.”

            “Yeah, but that blue is the exact same as Bruce’s…” Dick was leaning forward onto the chair now, careful not to knock Tim off balance. “We… we have to look into this. What if Bruce has another kid!”

            “Yeah, but the age… Dames would’ve told us if he had a twin, right?” None of them could answer that question. Damian was a lot of things, but open about his past was not one of them. If the documents were real, then that means that Daniel was out of the League a year before Damian. There was no way to know for sure, and Bruce was positive he would not get the answers from his son.

            “Where are the Fenton’s now?” The best course of action was to try and find Damian’s lookalike. They could do DNA testing once they did that.

            “They’re… on their way to Gotham for a convention?” Tim had pulled up security footage and the Fenton’s public schedule. “The Paranormal Physiology and Biology Convention, to be exact. It seems both Maddie and Jack, the parents, have doctorates in paranormal ecto-biology, and the daughter, Jasmine or Jazz, is currently attending Gotham University for a degree in Psychology.” Okay, they were on their way to Gotham. So, getting a DNA sample to run would be easier than originally anticipated, unless he was trained by the League. That would make this plan more difficult than anticipated.

            “Find out where they will be in Gotham. Then I want you to try and get a DNA sample so we can run tests and figure out whether he’s a clone. If we’re lucky, he might be willing to help us build a case against Masters.” Bruce was heading for the batmobile now. He needed to think. Either there was a clone of his son living in Illinois for the past seven years, or he had another son that had been free of the League.

            He isn’t sure which one would be better.

[pocketmolly]

I love how present Damian is in all of the crisis/events in dc! Like this man is not just Batman's sidekick and it shows I mean of course he won't have the same plot importance as dc trinity or whatever but this guy is shockingly relevant in almost every event (at least in the new52)

1. Dark Knights Metal

The teen titans go to the challengers mountain in Gotham and Damian somehow fucks off from his team (cannon fodder tbh) and ends up inside. There, he meets Green Arrow, Harley, Killer Croc and Nightwing and they fight their way into the (almost?) center. Damian kills dark robin and only through this do the good guys gain the knowledge that enemies can be killed by Nth metal which leads to their eventual victory. (Gotham Resistance)

2. Shadow War

This event kind of centers around Ra's Al Ghul, Talia Al Ghul and Slade after the Robin (2021) so it makes sense why Damian is a major character in it, basically Batman and Robin just kinda hop around trying to stop Talia and Slade from murdering each other. Anyway Damian has a humongous part in the conclusion where he manages to defeat the bad guy himself and Mary Sues his mother into not killing the guy who murdered Ra's. Also this event is kinda goofy where it ends in sunshine and rainbows (Slade is still alive and sets up Dark Crisis) (Ra's comes back as a ghost).

3. Dark Crisis

Dark Crisis gives Damian his little one shot where they portray him as both 12 years old and 34 years old. Anywho, Damian quickly says 'fuck you' to both Jon and Nightwing and goes on his own adventure where his team frees Justice Incarnate (which is the JL of the multiverse) and somehow unlock Dr Light's powers which she uses to stabilise the multiverse??? And don't let the team accomplishments fool you because Damian hacks into a cosmic tuning fork in an ape dimension to find the source of the Darkness??? (Please read Dark Crisis: The Dark Army, it is so good!!)

4. Lazarus Planet

Even the name of this event screams Damian... This event also starts off in Robin (2021) and is the biggest crossover Damian is at the center of. He starts off as a main antagonist where it's mostly a batfam event. Then, at the climax of the event, Damian is converted back to the hero's side when it becomes an international event. He's basically the main strategist and leader in fighting the god, King Fire Bull. There are a bunch of one-shots where heroes are struggling with new or a lack of powers which is why I say it's Damian's first big crossover event, additionally the entire batfam kind of revolves around him, being literally at his beck and call. The ending is also super sweet where Damian rallies the people of Gotham to revive Batman but he also kind of decided to kill Batman in the first place so that's not so sweet. I think this event, though not extremely well written, gives us a taste of what Damian would be like leading the JL (idk if it was plot convenience but everyone just agreed to following orders from a 15 year old) alongside Nightwing and Jon.

5. Night Terrors

In this Damian is revealed to have control over his dreams (which is crazy btw) and he goes to some monk to learn how to resist sleep? Anyway, while the other heroes are snoozing, Damian gets to team up with Deadman, Sandman and his father's unconscious body. It's the classic superhero story where he swoops in to rescue the two and they get the nightmare stone or something. Truthfully, I'm not too sure why they chose Damian specifically to play this role because I'm pretty sure any other hero would have been an okay substitute but I will never complain about Damian content.

This is just off the top of my head and I'm aware Beast World did happen but that event definitely needs its own post because I just absolutely adore it. Anyway, writers have been pushing for Damian to become a major character in DC and I really really hope he gets to be beside Nightwing and Jon when they inevitably (DC will never let them) take over.

[jasontoddsglock]

DAMIAN WANYE X BLACK READER

( mini series ? )

SUM : Introducing Gothams Princess : Gotham. who sings to the heart of gotham, who understands gotham, she IS gotham. who else better to be with than gotham’s protector? ( not that she knows that yet ) : Damian wayne.

HEAD-CANNONS :

$ : Gotham is spotted and protected everywhere throughout gotham. all the criminals and goons know her and respect her. ( she was once heard calling Penguin her uncle ? )

$ : the old black ladies LOVEEEE gotham to death. every time they see her they always lecture her in a joking way. almost as if she is their own.

“now i seen you in that dress at that concert last week, i bet not catch you in nothing like that no mo!!”

“you doing good in school now?”

“you better not be letting them boys go backstage with you nie!”

$ - Gotham city is always in some type of danger or crime, and as funny as it seems, so is Lady gotham.

- Everytime lady gotham is at an event or store, anywhere something INSANE always happens. ( last week lady gotham walked into a coffee shop, as soon as she step foot inside the power went out 💀 and when she stepped back out it came back on immediately. - the last time she was invited to a wanye gala, it got blown up and the gotham people went crazy when they found out lady gotham was there )

- Regulars in gotham soon collectively decided that wherever lady gotham goes, trouble would follow. and worked their way around it ( whenever lady gotham wants to order something from a local restaurant they meet her AT the door so she doesn’t physically go inside the restaurant, and give her the food AT the door to avoid the restaurant being flooded , lost of power , or wrecked - all three has happened at once before when lady gotham is around )

$- Lady gotham is known for her sass. she has the face of a deer, innocent, but yet has the mouth of a demon. but then again that’s normal for the people in gotham. it’s basically new york but 20 times worse. regulars in gotham think its the funniest thing in the world. they clip the moments she’s sassy in interviews or to paparazzi and make collaborations of it on youtube or tiktok ( they go viral every time ) 

$ - Lady Gotham meets the prince when he is Robin. Robin was chasing down a villain in her apartment complex and broke through her window while trying to catch said villain. and she was PISSED. she ended up tracking Robin down and cursed him TF out. they argued with each other for that next hour. ( will make a separate story about this )

$ - Lady gothams songs are songs that the gotham people can relate to, or songs that she feels like Gotham would sing if the city ever had a mouth. ( i could do a separate story about this as well ) i feel like she would sing songs that relate to death, how it feel to mourn someone. given with all the crime rate in gotham, at least 4 families out of 5 know that feeling of death and mourning. She would speak to them, and how sorry she is that she has caused it.

$ - in interviews they would ask her who her favourite hero is. Lady gotham will give two responses. one for the character she plays ( Gotham in the human body ) and for herself ( gotham which just so happens to be her actual name )

“Lady gotham would say Batman, he has and still is one of our biggest protectors. she will always have a special place for him in her heart. because he is healing her.”

“but me, teenage gotham, i would say red hood. i love him, like actually.”

[frownyalfred]

Omg I love your writing so much I’m just dying to how Bruce got the batkids in bloodletting? I know Damian and Cass were covered a little bit with death watch being the league of assassins in this case, but what about dick? Was the circus like… an intergalactic traveling circus? Maybe Tim’s parents instead of being socialites were some other station of power, generals or something who were killed in battle? Does Duke still have a metahuman bio dad? And Steph… is there like a mando version of CPS?

Ah thank you for asking about this anon! I've had some side stories/shorts in mind for bloodletting, but haven't gotten around to them since the main plot is heating up a lot (and writing the chapters is a lot of work).

The bare outline I usually work with in my mind is:

Damian was part of Death Watch/Kyr'tsad under Talia. He's not Bruce's son, despite Talia's desire to have a child with him. Talia beat him horribly when he questioned her orders and Bruce found him on a raid or mission and adopted him. Damian never renounced Talia so she's still technically his buir, which is difficult since she tortured and somewhat disfigured him (semi-permanent limp).

Cass was raised as a child soldier by Death Watch/Kyr'tsad. Like many of the unfortunate children in this scenario, she was set across from Mand'alor Wayne on the battlefield. I'm not entirely sure what happened, but she defected and Bruce adopted her on the spot.

Dick was the child of spacers Bruce encountered while on a mission. His parents died in a ship crash and Bruce -- newly Mand'alor I think -- took Dick with him as he finished his mission, as they were in a remote area. Once he completed the mission, he took Dick back to Mandalore and gave him the option to find his family or return to another planet. Dick wanted to stay with Bruce, and they said the gai bal manda a few moments later. Probably in front of a tearful Alfred or something.

Jason grew up on Concord Dawn, like the character I sometimes model him after (Jango). Bruce encountered him on a mission like he did with Dick. I'm debating him having the same background as Jango (Bruce helps him avenge the deaths of his buire who were killed for sheltering the Mand'alor from Kyr'tsad) but haven't firmly decided yet. Regardless of his backstory, Bruce knew the instant he saw him -- in the Manda and in real life -- that he would be the next Mand'alor.

Tim, I have sometimes considered, was the child of Mandalorian socialites/etc who joined the New Mandalorians and eschewed the Haat'ade ways of the new Mand'alor. They were close with Bruce's father, the former Mand'alor, but didn't agree with the new empire. Tim jumped a ship as soon as he knew how, demanded to be let into the Haat'ade stronghold, and for an audience with the Mand'alor. I like to think Bruce adored him instantly but didn't adopt him for fear of stepping on his former buire's toes. Tim thought that was ridiculous, renounced them despite Bruce's protests, and basically strongarmed Bruce into saying the gai bal Manda. Otherwise he was going to get like, one of the guards to do it (they all loved this crazy mando kid from the passive New Mandalorians and were fighting each other for second chance at adoption)

Duke I like to think has non-baseline human ancestry that isn't quite apparent visually. I haven't decided what that is yet. He came to serve his Mand'alor as a young orphan when he heard about Bruce's rise to the throne. Dick immediately grabbed him, shook him in front of Bruce, and was like are you seriously employing kids? To which Bruce said [puppy eyes] and started training him as a guard, if only to protect himself. The adoption happened a few months later.

Steph, I'm not sure yet. But I like your idea, anon! Mandalorians feel very fiercely about the treatment of children. I imagine, however Bruce came into contact with her, it was intense. And she was secretly relieved and happy to be adopted and wanted that badly.

[kerakeriza]

it's my personal opinion that damian wouldn't *need* to say this to talia. because she would love her family regardless. that's literally her whole entire problem, her biggest character flaw is that she loves her family despite their horrible terrible issues. she acknowledges this herself. she knows her father kind of sucks but she still loves him, and she's not proud of it, but she also always seemed resistant to really change that part of herself. it was hard for her, like ridiculously hard for her to just STOP loving someone. it was something she could never do, at least not through the 80s. (i obviously can't speak for the 90s. i haven't read many 90s comics at all.)

HOWEVER! i do think damian would still end up saying something like this because he *misunderstands* his mother's intentions and feelings towards him. how i justify talia raising her baby as an assassin despite wanting to break away from that life (or at least give her baby a chance to grow up away from that life) is that she only ended up raising damian as an assassin in order for him to be able to defend himself. the way i see it... is that talia knew someday damian would want to make his own decisions. it was all too likely that he'd want to run away and be with his father and become robin, just like dick and jason and tim all became robin after getting too close to bruce. i mean, it's *canon* that talia taught damian a LOT about his father, enough for damian to recognize bruce in a crowd not so much based on his looks, but based on his posture and mannerisms. she would have to have known the day would come when damian would become robin. ergo, she trained him to defend himself. (that part isn't canon, but it's how i justify everything.)

but, y'know, talia can't go and explain every little reason she had for raising damian this way. after all, how could he possibly understand those reasons? it was all history that he wasn't even alive for. so she wouldn't tell him. so he wouldn't know. so damian ends up with this misconception that talia didn't *have* a good reason to raise him this way, it was just to keep him away from his father and way from the title of robin - to keep him away from doing *what he wanted* with his life! so of course he blames his mother and thinks she doesn't accept him or love him for who he is. how could he know otherwise when it's such an impossible task to explain to him? he could only know when he's ready. when he's able to really grasp the crazy things you do for love, to protect someone you care about. sometimes you hurt them to protect them. of course it hurt damian to raise him this way. but now nobody has to worry about whether the 10 year old boy is prepared to defend himself against violent attacks. bruce worried so much about jason's safety, for instance, isn't it better in the end if he doesn't have to worry so much about that with *this* robin? i think talia would agree that it's better this way, because even if she gave damian away, he may eventually find out where he comes from and want to be a part of that life. sure, it's dangerous in itself to grow up as an assassin, but in the end, it's led to damian being much safer as robin, ironically.